The Eternal Wish
by ChestOfStories
Summary: Yennefer asks Geralt to help her find a djinn on a broken ship disappeared around Skellige Isles. After all these years, she wishes to finally know for sure whether their love was real. Meanwhile, The Wild Hunt is hot on Ciri's trail, and troubles are too many and piling up. How will it all resolve? Based on books and game lore along with our Original Characters.
1. Chapter 1

It felt like tiny glass shards vibrating inside his skull, ringing against the bones of it as Geralt came to. That djinn must've been pretty scorned on his way out – Geralt considered it lucky to still find himself on the withered deck of the ship stuck on the tip of the mountain and not somewhere on the fjords below. Far below. That explosion of magic and fury the djinn disappeared with nearly blew the Witcher overboard.

Wincing, he slowly got up to his knees, then to his feet, looking around. The sky was clear and orange as the sun was setting.

"Yen?" he called in a hoarse voice, peering up at what was left of the captain's bridge. "You all right?"

The djinn exploded in a brilliant display of light, brightness Yennefer attempted to inhale at the last second, as if to say goodbye to what had anchored them together and she was convinced would disappear, only when the remnants of the creature abated and the sky began to clear – nothing had changed – nothing at all.

She sucked in a breath to steady her frayed nerves, trying to assess herself internally, waiting on anything, any kind of suggestion that there might have been a delay, but when Geralt appeared, weary and a bit scathed, her heart gave an automated thump of indiscernible peace.

"I'm fine. Everything's fine."

She didn't look fine to him: her posture was a bit hunched over as if she was about to slide to the floor, weary and spent. Her face wore an expression he wasn't used to reading when it came to famous Yennefer of Vengerberg: uncertainty.

"You need to sit down," he said, holding out a hand to help her down the bridge's stairs. "And have some water. Before you fall down."

"I'm fine," she repeated, taking a hold of his offered hand, letting him guide her down the small series of steps and then slowly drew him toward the side of the boat without letting him go, toward the part where they had destroyed the railing.

She let him go, grabbed the railing and then sat down, letting her feet dangle for half a second before claiming part of the ledge. She only spoke again once he'd joined her.

"Thank you for helping me with the Djinn."

His lips twitched forming a fleeting sad smirk. "Had you told me what you wanted to achieve before we plunged in, I would've refused. It was too much risk for a flawed cause."

_Unless she wanted more to undo the bond rather than check and see what would remain without it_, came an afterthought and left a bitter residue as it slunk back into the dark of his mind.

She cast a glance at him, returning his smile, only might had none of the sadness or nothing she had expected. It felt as if for the first time ever she had the answer she needed.

That she always knew was there and had convinced herself couldn't be possible.

"I needed to know if our connection was real, I had to know that there was no magic involved in the way that we feel—I feel," she said, finding that there was a hint of uncharacteristic joy and possible promise in her tone, a lint of curiosity as well that she hoped he'd read and answer himself.

Her eyes sparkled searching him. he regarded her with interest.

"What did you learn?"

She thought it over, letting the lack of modification drift for a second and then smiled slightly, meeting his gaze with contented longing. "That nothing's changed. I feel the same."

The smallest of smiles touched the corners of his lips as he studied her, unwittingly searching for an undertone, an underlying truth that might still sting after gifting hope for better.

"Which is what? The need to escape me in a flare of a fiery portal leading to another side of the world?"

Her smile widened slightly, her eyes turning to the view, as if to compare it in part to what she was feeling and the peace she felt inside, to the realization that she could love.

"No. That I love you." The truth was that simple and uncomplicated, a belief that had been apparent but hard to decipher and believe since who they were had become intertwined.

An icy comber stroked through his spine, his eyes widened momentarily. "You... You've never said that to me before. You rather stated it was impossible for you due to your circumstances."

It hadn't felt like the first time she'd said it or like it was the last. Yennefer felt as though she'd been saying it for many years, in many different ways, in ways she wasn't even sure of, but suddenly knew as well as she did her own body.

A lot had changed today and major realization met.

"I believed that it was. I never thought that I was capable of love, let alone being loved in return. It's a lesson that's taken me almost a century to learn or even read for what it is."

The same uncertainty shimmered in the way she looked at him, but then Geralt realized with another subtle shiver of shock that it was vulnerability that was usually a foreign concept for her appearance, altogether. It was one of the rarest, impossible moments that happened just once in a lifetime, and he stared away, savoring, marveling and wondering.

She had inspired many looks in Geralt overs the years, many that she'd absorbed and recorded to memory for the nights when he wasn't with her, and this one was no different.

She craved to reach out, to touch a hand to his face, to caress his cheek, but stopped herself, unwilling to give into that greed when she'd already taken so much and needed something else from him.

_A confirmation._

"Do you feel any differently?"

Her unearthly violet eyes fixed on him, piercing and rendering his mind blank. The Witcher blinked, trying to focus, searching himself intensely.

"I... I don't know. I don't know... how I feel."

He stared at her, confused and pained, swallowed with effort.

"I feel nothing."

How was it he could feel nothing when she felt so much? When it was as if a door had opened that would never be closed again and all she'd ever needed to do was walk through.

She had been powerful for a very long time, in control of everything, but her feelings or what she felt in and around or for Geralt seemed to be the only thing beyond that carefully crafted web.

_Until today, that is._

Yennefer blinked, momentarily confused and struck. "Nothing for me or nothing different?"

She had always been certain of the latter, and yet, something in his tone and look made her question it and his wording for the first time.

Geralt searched himself again and again, but it was like feeling his way through the dark with no walls or anything to grab. Like walking through a thick fog expecting to see anything come out of it any moment and seeing nothing new with each step.

He shook his head as if to rid himself of that horrible, dead numbness, but it didn't help. He forced himself to meet Yennefer's intense stare and it scared him with another color he had never seen there before.

_Despair._

"I feel nothing at all. Just... nothing. Stillness. Like I'm empty. I feel nothing... for you."

Now there was an emotion she was familiar with, one she had experienced most her life and had never expected to see on Geralt. He'd made her believe it would never come to that, had convinced her for years that their connection was a deep unexplained root that could never be broken, and now that she believed it, could freely feel it for herself, he was gifting her with the opposite.

Maybe the last wish had never been tethered to them, but to _him_ alone.

A simple unspoken duty.

Tears stung behind her eyes, a reaction she caught before they could spill and she could fully give into the unfamiliar roll of heartbreak, one she'd guarded and controlled like she did her magic since her change.

"We should go," she said, not recognizing her tone or the disappointed in it – the hurt.

The rumors about his reunion with Triss must have rung true, then.

"I've nothing else I need here."

She composed herself, raising the mask she had been carrying for years, finding it harder to do this time and made to stand, to grip the railing and to safely hoist herself back onto the boat.

There it was.

Geralt finally saw something familiar - that mask she had been wearing like an armor that never broke in front of anyone he saw her with and rarely gave any hair thin cracks in his presence - the ones she immediately repaired. It came habitually. And now it came to her aid with the same ease of custom.

He stood up and helped her off the edge, wondering how it was possible to read her better than he could himself.

_What happened to me? _

_What did that djinn do to me?_

"Yen, I'm..." _There is nothing I can possibly say to fix it_, he realized with dismay. "I'm sorry."

And then, he thought of how he had to make her confess why she wanted that djinn so badly.

('I want to know if it's all just magic. Didn't you wonder about it yourself?')

He never really had.

"It's not that all we had together means nothing now."

"Don't be. Our relationship has never been an easy one, Geralt. And— and you were honest, that's one of many things I love about you."

Saying it this time didn't give her the same kind of contentedness, in fact, the more she thought about it, the more alone she felt, the more disconnected from what she thought they had.

"It's just that you feel nothing," she repeated.

Another time she might have shrugged it off, been guarded by that internalized security blank created by the djinn, this time, there was nothing to hold onto, not even the intensity of his stare – even if he looked partially contrite. She didn't like that look directed at her or what it invoked in her.

She missed what she thought she knew and understood in his gaze.

"Is what I hear of you and Triss true?"

Geralt frowned in fleeting confusion. "Depends on what you hear. I helped her and a group of mages safely escape Novigrad, and she accompanied them to Kovir. I saw them off and left the city afterwards."

"And she left with them?"

That wasn't the way Yennefer had heard it but he'd never been one to lie or steer away from the truth.

"The way I hear it or my birds told me, is that you asked her to stay."

Unless someone somewhere had misinterpreted.

"I did," he confirmed without skipping a beat. "I didn't think it was necessary for her to leave with them when she could still manage a better life in Novigrad that she preferred. But she wanted to go. So she did."

The 'I did' was enough to stir a whole new rush of emotional turmoil that Yennefer was not used to dealing with or remotely knew how to control. Was it reflected on her face? She hoped not.

"What did you feel about that?"

He jerked his shoulders in a half-shrug. "That she knew best what was best for her. What is it all about? Are you trying to compare? There is nothing to even remotely compare there, Yen. If I needed her to stay, I'd put more effort into convincing her of that. Like I've been doing with you."

The need for tears had abandoned her, but she couldn't let go of the feeling that she was losing more than she could have ever imagined she had.

Even worse, she didn't know how to fix it.

"Then why? Why now tell me you feel nothing after all these years of insinuating otherwise?"

Geralt spread his arms briefly, looking helpless. "Because I've never lied to you."

Fair enough answer. He had never lied to her and she'd rather he didn't start now, not even if it felt as though he'd ripped her heart from her chest. The urge to cry returned like a hollow wave and she wasn't sure how long she was going to be able to keep her self-possession.

"We should go. I— I have things I need to get in order before we move on to our next undertaking."

She didn't leave room for pause this time, she couldn't, and instead she extended a hand and muttered a word, opening a portal for them directly to the Skellige port and back to Ciri.

* * *

"Fuckin' hell, girl! You've relieved me of my entire coin purse!" Eabrack whined, upending the said purse to show his lack of funds.

"Another round?" Ciri suggested, scooping all the gold to her side of the table with an impish grin, eyeing the frustrated farmer opposite her as he began to collect his deck of cards.

He shook his head. "No bleedin' way. My Irna will kill me already when I get home."

She shrugged and rearranged her own deck, looking around the crowded inn to see if there were any other worthy challengers nearby. Most of them were drunk. That made them highly worthy in her opinion.

Her movements came to a halt when a shiver erupted down her spine, the air surrounding them becoming electrically charged for a few brief seconds. Magic.

She turned her head, gazing inquisitively at the door leading to Yen's room. Were they back from this mystery mission she'd not been allowed to partake in? They'd been gone most of the day.

"I go first," new male voice sounded opposite her and Ciri shifted her attention to the burly man who had just taken Eabrack's seat, clumsily fumbling with his frayed and aged cards, dropping most of them at least twice before he managed to collect them again.

Another grin bloomed on her face. "It's a deal."

* * *

Geralt didn't appear to be open to any more discussion or complaints about the portal, so as soon as he stepped into it, she followed, carrying them back to Skellige with all her usual ease.

When he was clear of it and we were on the docks, Yennefer found her ability to keep pretending fade away, as if now that they were amongst people, it was even harder to keep the walls in check.

"I'm going to find Ciri, let her know we're back."

She was desperate to see her, to be close to her. Who knew how long that would be for and when he'd decide to take her to their next mission. Yennefer wouldn't be joining them, after all.

Geralt was never going to get used to portals. It still made him a bit woozy. He suspected, however, that partially it was due to the heavy residue they both carried from the previous talk. He still didn't know how to address it and how it could be healed – at least for her, given he still couldn't find any particular heartaches in himself. He felt as numb as the cold winds of Skellige treated any skin left open to them.

He nodded, contemplating his further actions. Outlines of a plan began to form. "I'll take a walk."

Yennefer nodded despite the fact that she hardly heard him, that his words made as much sense as the breeze that ruffled her hair or the mindless chatter from the villagers outside of the Inn.

She put distance between them and then stopped when she could no longer feel him behind her, raising a hand to her cheek, finding that it had come away wet. She frowned and double-checked with the other.

The same thing had happened there.

Was she crying?

She scrubbed her face, felt the tears dry up and fade and then forced herself to slip inside, assuming that Ciri'd be hanging around somewhere having a drink and entertaining herself.

It wasn't long before Yennefer found her playing a lively round of Gwent.

And from the looks of things, she was winning.

Ciri scooped her winnings towards her and poured them into her pouch, entertained by the dismayed looks on her opponent's face as he watched her make away with his hard-earned coin.

Everybody looked up when the door to the inn opened, letting in a breeze of cold air that made the flames in the fireplace flicker dangerously. The sorceress appeared from out of the dark.

Ciri smiled. "If you'll excuse me, lads…"

They didn't seem to mind. Most of them didn't want another go.

On slightly drunken legs, Ciri hurried towards the sorceress, childlike excitement evident on her face as she held up her purse. "This place is gonna make me rich!"

Ciri stopped in front of her, brushed some melting snow off her shoulder and peered behind her.

"Where's Geralt?"

* * *

Geralt watched her go, cringing inwardly as she hunched a bit while walking. Like she was in pain. It was all such an impossible wonder for him that he felt he couldn't even begin to comprehend everything that happened in those moments they shared after the djinn disappeared with a bang.

This Yennefer that had emerged from it was so different from what he knew, and yet, there was a lot of what he glimpsed that seemed to be what he had always been looking for – desperately – in the depth of her cold violet stare, in every gesture and rare smile. Now those treasures finally twinkled and lured, and they were out of his reach forever.

And he felt… still. Quiet. _Dormant_.

He no longer knew the right word for what dwelled inside him.

Geralt strolled along the docks, taking his time and enjoying the sobering sting of the wind and the thickening twilight around him. Some people around the village knew him, and he wasn't in the mood to talk and celebrate. He felt the need to get away from here.

He found Mousesack in the small inner yard of the castle. He was taking a moment to pray, swaying the tiniest bit due to the amount of mead consumed. Geralt waited politely until he turned and grinned at the Witcher.

"Geralt! How are you enjoying the feast?"

"Magnificent as always, your feasts," Geralt nodded, smiling.

"Good, good. Cirilla looks so happy. She's grown into a beautiful young woman, became a great warrior akin to yourself. You must be ten times as proud as I feel."

"Indeed, I am," he nodded again.

"She is a pride and joy for all of us who know her." The Druid finished the mead there still was in the horn he'd been holding and turned a wary eye to Geralt. "You sought me out for a purpose, Witcher? What is it?"

"To ask for a favor," he confirmed. "I need to go back to Novigrad and tend to unfinished business or two. I don't suppose any ships are sailing there any time soon, and I'd love to get there sooner."

The Druid frowned. "I see. And that wild raven-haired one doesn't go with you or has already left without notice, I assume?"

"Yennefer will stay longer with Ciri, I imagine. I have to deal with the contracts I left undone. More people might get hurt."

"I understand." He hummed, stroking his beard as he studied the Witcher. "I can send you there. Do we need to go to the stables for your horse?"

"Roach stayed with Dandelion in the city. I thought she had no business being here. Hope he's taken care of her."

"I wouldn't hold my breath for that troubadour to do anything one would expect. But that's none of my business. If you're ready, Witcher, you can go. But do not expect me to explain the matter of your absence to Crach or our new Queen."

"I wouldn't burden you with such task. I'm grateful for your help."

"It's nothing, Witcher. Take care."

* * *

Despite the way she felt, a smile automatically graced Yennefer's lips, mimicking Ciri's happiness, grateful for it and her contagious mood. This image was what the mage needed to counteract the other and the nightmare playing in constant loop in her head.

She swept a hand over her 'daughter's' head, brushing a stray white strand behind her ear.

"He went for a walk. Been enjoying what remains of the feast?"

Went for a walk? Since when did Geralt go for walks? Unless he was hoping to run his sword through something waiting on the other end of the Path, that was.

"I have. The mead tank never empties. Nor does the supply of men eager to prove their worth at Gwent." Ciri paused, looking her over. "What have you two been doing?"

She wouldn't have asked if she believed they'd simply snuck away for some private time together. But Ciri knew that wasn't it. Knew they hadn't… reconnected. After all, the stuffed unicorn was still in Yennefer's chambers.

"Geralt and I had some unfinished business to attend to and loose ends to tie up."

Yennefer would rather not go into too much detail out in the open when her nerves were so unpredictable and her emotions were running all over the place. She hardly knew what to do with herself.

"You enjoy your night further, Ciri. Play another round of Gwent for me, be merry, but also be shrewd and innocuous. I think I'll retire to my chambers, take a nice long bath—"

Possibly accompanied by an unusual crying session.

"And have an early nights rest. We'll probably want to be gone from here come early morning."

_Unless I leave now._

"Why?" Ciri asked, tucking her winnings away, watching Yennefer cautiously. "Crach and Queen Cerys have invited us to stay indefinitely." She paused, hands on her hips. "Have you business elsewhere? Does Geralt?" Ciri would have imagined they'd told her if that was the case, but maybe not. Maybe they still saw her as Ciri the Child rather than Ciri the Woman.

Yennefer doubted that invitation was one that extended to her willingly but was more so out of courtesy for what Geralt had done for them and what Yennefer could do here and there for his people.

She raised a hand to Ciri's face, touching her cheek tenderly, a small smile on her lips at her stubborn display.

"I believe he has ongoing business in Novigrad. I've a lot of my own that need tending as well."

All of which she gladly would have and did drop for the both of them for a short time.

"I suspect you might be feeling a little listless yourself by now?"

Listless? Not really. Not yet. Ciri liked Skellige. She liked its people and the life they led. And most of all, she liked how far away they were. So far from her father's reach.

But she would choose Geralt and Yennefer over any fear or discomfort and therefore did not let her slight disappointment show. "Of course. I always manage to keep myself occupied in Novigrad. Even with the witch hunters roaming the streets," she said with a smile. "I shall be ready come morning."

She assumed they were all going together and in the past – had this extra endeavor gone as Yennefer had wished – they would have. Unfortunately, she needed time to manage herself.

"Perfect. In the meantime, don't let our shortened festivities halt your winning streak."

Yennefer removed her hand from her face.

"Go have fun."

"I will," Ciri gave her another smile. Yennefer seemed off somehow but Ciri couldn't put her finger on what it was, what had changed. Maybe it was simply that Ciri didn't really know them anymore. Their looks hadn't changed one bit, but perhaps something else had. "Have a nice bath."

Reluctantly leaving the sorceress behind, she stepped out of the inn to inhale some of the cool night air. People were still out celebrating the day's coronation and yet it was quieter here than it ever would be in Novigrad.

Another shiver rippled down her spine, pulling her attention up towards the castle. Someone had opened a portal. Mousesack?

Curious, she invoked her own special magic and vanished in a flash of green light, instantly appearing a few feet from where she had felt the portal open. The sight that met her was not what she had expected. "Geralt?"

Geralt lifted his foot to step in when a voice calling his name made him freeze. Ermion and he turned to the one whose voice the Witcher would recognize anywhere.

He sighed, "Ciri."

* * *

Yennefer returned her smile and then glided away for her chamber, chin held high as she walked, used to the stares of contempt, wonder and lust from the consortium of inn's people.

She could read them easily.

Just like she'd read him.

Yennefer knew she shouldn't, that had he known he wouldn't have been pleased as there was certain things he liked to keep to himself, but she couldn't help it, couldn't bring herself to accept that nothing was just nothing. How was she supposed to accept that word for what it was at face value after everything that she knew? After everything they had been through to get to this point and what he himself had been willing to risk?

She walked without seeing, her bedroom door closing behind her minutes later, fingers fumbling with the buttons and laces on her corseted blouse.

Once she stripped completely, she slipped beneath the water that had already been present in the wooden tub. A perk from being at an inn. Whether you used it or not that night, come sundown, someone had taken it upon themselves to make sure there was something in case you wanted to be clean. That wasn't the reason for this particular soak, though.

She sunk into the water, enjoying its warmth, letting the tears that had finally escaped run freely.

She had no idea when she'd started crying, she only hoped that it had happened once she'd actually made it behind closed doors and to the safety of her own space where she wouldn't be disturbed and could purge this cloying plague of love from her system.

* * *

Ciri looked from Geralt to Mousesack and back again, a slight frown on her brow. "What are you doing?"

Geralt threw a helpless look at Ermion, but the druid folded his arms with a subtle smile and didn't even move to leave them to talk. The portal closed.

Geralt sighed again and spread his arms in a brief gesture of what-did-it-look-like. "I was leaving. I have an urgent matter back in Novigrad. Yennefer was going to stay here with you."

"She said we were going tomorrow." Or had Ciri misunderstood? She was confused now and tried to remember Yennefer's words exactly. "She said you were just out for a walk."

Meaning that either she'd lied, or she hadn't known Geralt was leaving.

Frowning still, Ciri moved closer to him, practically ignoring Mousesack's presence at this point. "What's going on?"

Of course Yen didn't explain anything. Geralt knew she wouldn't hurry to, but he underestimated Ciri's nose for subtle art of reading them both.

"I told you: I wanted to go back to Novigrad to finish a few things, and Yennefer intended to spend more time with you. If she decided against that since our parting in the docks - I didn't know."

"Right." Geralt never lied to her. So why did she feel like she was missing something major right now?

And why were they both so eager to get back to the mainland when they'd only just arrived in Skellige? When they'd only just found one other…

They had been searching for each other for quite some time. Did Ciri not live up to the expectations they'd had of her? Was she a disappointment?

These were rare emotions. She was always so sure of herself, especially in battle. And only now did she realize she'd had some expectations of our reunion as well. And it wasn't this; not everyone going their separate ways as soon as possible.

Ciri felt Mousesack's eyes on her, sensed the pity. She didn't like it. It made her cheeks burn.

She backed away from where the portal had been opened just moments ago, as if to give the Druid permission to activate it, and set her gaze on Geralt again, putting on a smile for his sake alone. "See you."

The Witcher saw her doubt - well justified and fair - and couldn't help a mix of hurt and pride. She was so good at sensing him, too good, and that stung her own heart.

He stepped toward her, once again feeling helpless. "Ciri, forgive me. I wish I could stay, but I feel it wouldn't do any good right now. I can't explain before Yennefer does - it would be wrong on my part."

Her eyes narrowed shrewdly, not from anger but suspicion. She stepped in close as well, lowering her voice, her words for his ears only. "Are you in danger? Is she?"

"No, no, of course not. Neither of us would keep such thing from you."

"Alright." Then she was still as clueless as before. And scared. Not that she would ever admit to it.

Ciri spread her arms briefly and stepped away again, trying to convey that she forgave him even if she had no idea what he needed to be forgiven for.

Geralt stepped after her and pulled her into an urgent hug.

"It's not you, Ciri. If you wish to stay longer, I'll come back in a couple of days. I love you." It was nice to feel. Her closeness cast away the chilly fog of nothingness and he felt the familiar warmth of affection. "And I miss you. I always miss you."

He pulled away and held her face in his hands for a moment, etching her features into his memory. Then he kissed her forehead and let go.

"I have to go now for a bit. It's needed."

Her smile was genuine now and impossible to suppress. All her earlier fear melted away at his reassuring words and firm embrace, and she wrapped her arms around his waist in return. "I love you."

Those words came easy with him, and with Yennefer. Others, not so much.

Sufficiently soothed, she didn't cling to him like she would have as a child. She allowed him to let her go. Because she trusted him. If he said he'd come back, he would. "Don't die," she demanded softly, absentmindedly toying with the witcher amulet at her hip as they waited for Mousesack to open the portal.

Geralt merely smiled, knowing better than to promise things like that with doing work like his. Her smile and acceptance still melted his heart. A huge part of him yearned to stay, but Yennefer's eyes full of despair and heartbreak lingered behind Ciri's figure like a wraith and cast him away.

Mousesack decided they were done, and opened the portal. It swirled the air next to Geralt, blowing his hair and glistening with magical light. He raised a hand in a mute goodbye and stepped in.

Ciri watched the portal swallow him and disappear and secretly wondered what kind of business he had that was so urgent. There were always contracts to be closed, of course, but still… she wished he would have asked her to come help.

She spent a few minutes in Mousesack's company, letting him fill her in on the various trials the contenders for the Skellige throne had performed in order to win the crown. No such thing would be needed for her to claim the title of Empress should her father decide his reign was over, and from what she had heard that was exactly what had happened. The reason he was looking for her in the first place. She couldn't imagine anything she wanted less.

Ciri took her leave of the castle – on foot this time – and pulled her hood on to brace against the icy winter wind that howled between the mountains. The few guards she met on the way nodded politely as she passed but other than them, most of the town seemed to have holed up inside, safe and sound from the cold. The further she walked, the more Yennefer's bathtub called out to her.

* * *

Yennefer closed her eyes, recalling his face, that look in his eyes, the apology that had crossed his features although she wasn't she sure he even knew what he was feeling guilty for. Their relationship had always been a complicated one and for a time—a minute there—after the djinn had been destroyed and the light had subsided, she'd been sure that she understood it, that they'd be okay and that everything she'd initially feared about their relationship had been solely in her head.

But that hadn't been the case.

She had pushed him too far, so far, in fact, that for the first time since they had first laid eyes on one another and that night beneath the rubble when they first became intimate, he felt nothing.

Absolutely nothing but wretched culpability.

She sank beneath the water, for the first time, unconcerned with the state her curls would be in after and the fact that she was removing every bit of make-up that she meticulously kept intact.

* * *

The party was still going strong when Ciri entered the inn a little while later. Now the singing had begun. Drunken singing at that. Not exactly nice to the ears, but it had a certain charm nonetheless.

The few flakes of snow that still clung to her clothing melted before long and she pushed her hood back, grabbing a giant roasted turkey leg off one of the platters on the bar counter, and headed for Yen's room.

She opened the door quietly in case Yennefer had managed to fall asleep already and snuck inside. The light was dim with only a few candles lit, and there was no sight of her.

Ciri took a healthy bite of her turkey and chewed as she stealthily made her way towards the bed we'd shared the night before (Geralt had been on the floor) and whispered, "Yen?"

When the need to breathe became more urgent, Yennefer resurfaced, taking a large gulp of air, brushing the hair from her face, eyes stinging from the water and emotions she had tried to release.

However, and like with the djinn, nothing had changed, she still felt absolutely every bit of that singularized definition he'd used on her.

She expelled a frustrated sigh and let her head rest against the back of the tub, unaware that she was no longer alone until she thought she heard someone shuffle behind her.

Yennefer looked around, eyes widening when she observed Ciri, turkey leg in hand.

"I thought you'd be at the feast a little longer," the mage mused, voice slightly strained, almost alarmed at Ciri seeing her this disarrayed.

Ciri's heart skipped a beat when Yen's head suddenly broke the surface of the water, a chunk of turkey dangling from Ciri's mouth until the shock had settled. It was rare to see her so disheveled. Not that she looked bad. Yennefer could never look bad.

Ciri shoved the turkey bite into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Sorry. Thought you might have gone to bed." She hesitated a little before continuing. "So… Geralt left."

"And you were coming to share your turkey with me?"

How much mead had she consumed?

Still, the thought of Geralt being gone so soon after everything—after what had happened—even though Yennefer knew that was his plan, only added another dagger to the already open wound.

"You said goodbye?"

Ciri eyed the turkey leg, not sure she wanted to share. It wasn't that she was greedy, exactly… Well, yes, she was. She had been raised by a bunch of burly witchers. And one thing she'd learned quickly in Kaer Morhen was that if you didn't stake a claim of your food, you might not eat. It wasn't like at her grandmother's castle where servants were always ready with treats.

But this was Yennefer… Was she hungry? Was that why she looked so sad?

She extended the leg her way. "Yes. I caught him before he could enter Mousesack's portal."

Yennefer was aware Geralt wanted to leave, she wasn't aware, however, that he was that desperate to do so that he wanted to take a portal, one of the few forms of travel he despised with a fiery passion.

Another time Yennefer would have denied her offering, gestured that she enjoy, but for the first time in her life, with curls drenched, make-up running, she took the turkey leg from her and stole a bite.

"You didn't go with him?" That much was obvious, but it was still a question.

"Don't think he wanted me to." Ciri took a seat on the bed and began the arduous task of removing her boots. "Are you going to tell me what is happening? Because when we talked this morning we were all planning to stay here for a few days. And then suddenly this evening, there is urgent business to be handled. For the both of you. But obviously not the same."

She groaned with the effort of freeing her foot from the first boot, dropping it to the floor so she could start on the other.

Since Ciri hadn't made a move to reacquire her turkey leg, Yennefer twisted around and made a point of devouring the rest, scooping up a piece of meat that had dropped off the bone and floated.

She popped that into her mouth as well while she listened.

"What's to tell? Our personal strategies rarely ever go according to plan and everything changes from day to day. What makes you think that this is somehow different? More meaningful?"

Not that she'd said that she did, but the underlining was there and Yennefer had read it clear enough.

"It felt like he was running away," Ciri said honestly, eyeing the sorceress once she got rid of her second boot. "Geralt doesn't run away from danger. Which means he's either running from you or from me. Which is it?"

Yennefer laughed bitterly, not because her assumption was humorous or wrong, but because she'd managed to figure it and called her, Yennefer, out on the meagre bluff.

"You can be certain of one thing, Ciri, Geralt would never run from you. Ever."

She polished the bone and carelessly dropped it into the bath, rising from the chilling water, reaching for the freshly folded cloth nearby that she could cinch around her body and dry herself off with.

"It's me. I've always been very good at destroying things."

Ciri frowned, unused to seeing the sorceress so cavalier with her eating habits. "What did you destroy?"

"Something dear to me."

Something Yennefer hadn't even realized was that dear until she had actually lost it. It had been a hard concept to grasp in totality, for years she had struggled and feared, and yet, now that it was no longer even an option anymore, it felt as though she'd been split open and cut down the middle.

She ran her hands along her hips, using the cloth to dry herself, ignoring the vanity and her compulsive need to brush her hair, to fix her make-up and remedy the horror she must have looked like.

Yennefer eased a knee onto the mattress and then lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.

"The feast coming to an end or did you run out of drunkards to take money from?"

She clearly wasn't going to share what that meant. As was her right. Her secrets, her business. Didn't mean Ciri liked it.

"Their purses ran empty," Ciri said, unfastening her belt to get more comfortable on the bed. "And their wives became angry. But the feast is still going. And will long after sunrise if my childhood memories are accurate."

"Those memories haven't failed you in the slightest," Yennefer said, rolling onto her side to watch her as she undressed, admiring how much she looked like Geralt although they weren't blood related and at times how much of her personality could mimic Yennefer's own.

It was as if this little family of theirs had always been destined and yet – it wasn't.

All of that had been a lie.

"You remember the story about the djinn?"

Ciri dropped her belt to the floor and turned to watch her, brow slightly pinched in concentration. "Yours and Geralt's djinn?" The one who had bound their destinies together upon Geralt's command? "Yes, I believe so. What of it?"

_Our djinn._

Yennefer might have smiled at the way she put it, the fact that it was seen that way, and she guessed it was – like a fable – that their friends told.

"I took him to break the spell. The last wish. We destroyed the djinn. And in doing so, I inevitably destroyed everything in the process."

Ciri sat with that for a while, processing the information. "Was Geralt angry?"

It was the only way she could imagine "everything being destroyed" as Yennefer put it. Though Geralt hadn't seemed angry at all when she saw him. He'd seemed… uncomfortable. Guilty? "Why did you break your bond? Do you no longer wand to share his destiny?"

"No, it's— he wasn't angry at all."

He just felt nothing. A big raging emotional _nothing_.

Yennefer expelled a soft sigh, averting her eyes to the ceiling again, finding that her usual confidence and the confidence with which she had gone into this battle with had abated slightly.

"I do—I did, I just… I wanted to make sure it was real and that what tied us together, what I felt—feel is unaffected. I know it doesn't make any sense, that I should have accepted it at face value but, I needed to do this for myself, for us, if we were going to move past our ever on and off."

Ciri could understand – in part – why Yennefer would want to challenge the wish. She'd never been shy about admitting she struggled with her emotions. Love, especially.

There had never been any doubt in Ciri's mind that Geralt loved her, though. "And what do you feel?" she asked cautiously, suddenly scared the sorceress would cry. She had never seen her cry. And Ciri wasn't sure how she'd react if Yennefer did. Or rather, how she could help.

The tears bubbled to the surface again, internally making Yennefer curse. She had more than enough time to get this particular part of the scenario out of her system so why was it still coming up? Why was the way Ciri was looking at her with sympathy hitting so hard?

"Nothing changed for me. Nothing. I—I still feel the same as I always did. Only, I feel like I can finally accept it, that I'm free to believe that it's genuine. It's Geralt that surprised me."

And then the tears came, spilling from her eyes at their own accord like savage fiends unwilling to cooperate with her usual control.

Ciri stared in mingled horror and panic when her eyes watered and the tears spilled down her cheeks in abundance, unsure what to do, how to soothe her. Ciri decided to replicate what Yennefer had done for her when she was still a child, on the few occasions she herself had cried.

Reaching for her, Ciri wrapped her arms around the mage and allowed her to rest her head against Ciri's chest, stroking her damp hair. "What happened? What did he say?"

Yennefer couldn't remember the last time she had let someone see her cry, let alone comfort her in her desperate grief and give them a glimpse at the failing mask of confidence.

She shouldn't even be this way. She knew that. Everything the Lodge had taught her belied it. Still, she clung to Ciri, letting the tears flow and the speech elude her.

When she'd calmed down and felt that she had finally rid herself of some of the hurt she was feeling, Yennefer freed herself of her comforting embrace and claimed her spot beside the girl again.

"H-he said nothing, he said he felt nothing and that it's changed for him."

"Nothing?" Nothing for Yennefer? Or nothing in general? That was worrying. Both options were. "That doesn't make any sense," Ciri muttered, directing her gaze to the ridiculous unicorn beside the bed, freeing Yen from her intense stare. "He had to have loved you before the djinn. Why would he make that wish otherwise? Why would he have bound you together?" She paused, thinking. "Maybe he's just confused."

"Confused?"

If either of them was confused, it was Yennefer. He'd been telling her for years that they were meant to be, that they were destined and that he didn't care to listen to any kind of explanation or theory.

Yet, the moment she had cleared it up, specified it for them both and realized what she assumed he'd always known or suspected, it was shown as the exact opposite.

"I told him I loved him and he said he felt nothing. I can't really picture where the confusion would come in, unless… there was someone else."

She knew of Triss and a series of other women, but she never really worried about them, confident that their connection would always hold, that when it came down to it, they were so drawn to one another that at times she didn't care, either, to try and piece it apart or together. She just lived and accepted.

"Have you heard anything?"

He'd never lied to her before, had given her a truth, and she'd even read it as such, but he'd really surprised her, shocked her so much that amidst her grief Yennefer struggled with disbelief.

"I mean the magic," Ciri said. "It's only just dissipated. Maybe it will take some time for his body and mind to settle?"

All speculations, of course. A wish, really. Because Ciri didn't understand this world where Geralt and Yennefer were not together.

They'd always fought, yes. Even when Ciri was a child and they thought she couldn't hear. She heard. She noticed. But she was never worried. Because they always returned to each other in the end.

The three of them.

Ciri shook her head. "No, of course not. Who else could it be?"

Ciri really was the sweetest most wonderful child. If it hadn't been for that connection, Yennefer knew that she wouldn't have been part of her life and she'd never been gifted something she'd craved.

She filled a hole in Yennefer, something that had been filled with darkness and bitterness for the longest time while Geralt anchored it, squeezing in his own dedications until their joint emotions had been such an overload at times Yennefer had no idea what to do with it.

Magic she could control, her emotions and needs around the two of them, she couldn't, and eventually almost always conceding to what she had deemed was their invisible tether.

"Perhaps. It's possible that the djinn's wish only disquieted him."

But Yennefer knew that wasn't true, that magic didn't work like that and if it had, that she wouldn't have been standing here, that she'd have died that very day the wish had been made.

She didn't want to think about it and her eyes were so sore that she didn't want to cry anymore, either.

"Are you tired?"

"A little," Ciri admitted, wondering how far she could push her with questions. Because she wanted to know more. To understand more.

Maybe Yennefer wasn't the one to answer them. She couldn't speak for Geralt.

Did this mean that they were no longer together? That… they were no longer a family?

And sneakily, a new fear appeared. DId Geralt only love Ciri because she was his destiny? He'd wished for her once but she didn't think he ever intended to claim his prize. Something that had become evident their first few encounters.

Perhaps she was being unfair. Perhaps she was poking possibilities that were better left alone.

"Yes, I'm tired." Ciri changed her mind. She wanted sleep. The kind of sleep where such thoughts wouldn't torment her.

Yennefer also wanted sleep, this talk, the crying, the mere wondering and trying to figure it all out in her head and made sense of that singular word had taken it out of her.

She slipped off the covers, stood beside the bed and pulled the blankets from above the bed, spreading them open as she had done for them the night before when they all had been in better spirits.

The evidence of Geralt's rough-and-ready bed still evident on the floor.

She picked up his pillow, dumped it between them and then carefully got beneath the covers, waiting until Ciri had gotten comfortable, dousing the candles with a mere crook of her fingers.

In the darkness she reached for Ciri's hand, holding it, content to fall asleep knowing she was with her and in need of the amnesty that soon came after.

They curled up beneath the covers, hand in hand, Yennefer miserable, Ciri uncertain. It was a stark difference from the night before when everything had been wonderful.

Ciri lay for a while in absolute silence, listening to the revelries happening in the inn beside them, grateful for the noise they provided. It was a distraction.

And yet… before she could fall asleep, she knew she needed to find Geralt as soon as she was able. Did he have answers? Or was he as confused as she was?

These were the thoughts that stayed with her as she drifted off.


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't get it."

Dandelion stopped fingering the strings of his lute and stared at Geralt, perplexed. One of the butterflies mistook the plume on his hat for a flower and added to the décor investigating. The troubadour's attire was the brightest among the assortment of herbs presented on the field outside Novigrad's walls the pair of friends chose for a few lounging hours. The weather was outstandingly inviting.

Geralt looked up at him with a questioning rise of an eyebrow. "What?"

"You told me about all things Crach, the bloody druid and a whole bunch of bloody Skelligans I don't even know, then Ciri and all things Ciri… But what of her? Wasn't she with you two at all?"

Geralt frowned, reluctant to call out the name. "Why, she's been there. Enjoying the festivities just the same, more so with Ciri, for it's the time with her we have been robbed of most."

"Uh-huh," Dandelion hummed, eyeballing the Witcher ironically. "It's not like I expected some sultry details of how you two snuck away more than once to have a festivity of your own. It really never happens when you two are stuck at some royal feasts where the most exciting part would be some noisy drunk making winds and thundering laughter. Or have you been killing time with cards?" He squinted in mock doubt. "Highly unlikely the said lady would have let you out of her hand for longer than it takes to bring her refreshment."

Geralt rolled his eyes and lowered onto his back, put his hands beneath his head watching the cloudless sky.

"Geralt! We can do it the hard way – you know I will pester you until you can't hide it anymore – or it will be easy and you just tell me what happened?"

"So you would write another ballad to embarrass me all around the paths I travel?"

He heard the bard gasp. "How dare you! I would never embarrass you! My ballads are what makes people happy, Witcher. You wouldn't understand, your field of work is too brash and violent, but your trophies shall never outlive the stories people pass on to next generation."

He waited a beat or three and, seeing Geralt kept silent, shifted closer.

"Come on, Geralt, is it so… bad? I won't write a ballad, I swear, just… you're so… just tell me what's wrong? I know something is wrong, don't even try to deny it, you shall wound me. I know you and you cannot lie."

The Witcher sighed, wondering how he could tell about something he couldn't figure out himself.

"Ciri will tell me anyway," Dandelion put in. "So we better take care of covering your side of the story before I have to rely on someone else's ideas."

"Remember the djinn?"

Dandelion hesitated, attempting to think of how it mattered. "How could I not – the bastard almost stole my life, and more importantly, my voice! It would have been the greatest tragedy of the modern world. What of it? It found and attacked you?"

"No, of course not. It's… about that wish."

"Oh?" The perk of curiosity was back in his voice; he shifted even closer. "Don't do this to me, Geralt. Speak! You make me ache with all the suspense!"

Geralt sighed and opened his mouth and began to speak. The birds chirped, the cicadas chirred, and Dandelion's nimble fingers danced over the lute's strings as he listened intently.

* * *

Ciri woke while the hour was still early, to the sound of a rooster alerting the town to the rising of the sun. She turned to look at Yennefer who appeared to still be sleeping. It was good she had managed to get some rest. At least Ciri hoped that was the case.

Unwilling to wake her, Ciri slipped out of bed and haphazardly pulled on her boots. She stealthily made her way out of the room and into the main area of the inn, stepping over a few passed out farmers on her way to the counter.

"This always happens," the innkeeper's wife said as she brought a heap of freshly washed tankards out from the kitchens. "Always a few who don't make it back to their own beds."

"You don't mind?" Ciri asked, leaning her elbows on the counter.

The woman smiled. "I prefer 'em this way. Unconscious and quiet."

Ciri breathed a laugh and nodded her understanding. "Is there any food?"

"Aye. Just collected the eggs a few minutes ago and the bread is still hot out of the oven. I'll bring some to your room in a few."

Ciri gently tapped her hand on the wood and pushed away, heading back to Yennefer. "Thank you."

So unused to the likes of crying and the headache it induced, when Yennefer woke up the next morning, it was with a heavy head and an even heavier eyes.

When she did eventually manage to pry them open and saw the bed empty beside her, save for Geralt's pillow, sufficiently squeezed in the middle of the night, slightly melded from both sides.

For a time, her heart seemed to falter when she sat up and realized that she was completely alone.

"Ciri?" Yennefer asked, hopeful that maybe the girl had chosen to have a bath or had gone to relieve herself.

What if she'd left, though? What if what Yennefer had said the night before had worried her so that she fled?

Yennefer tried to remain calm, the exhaustion evaporating as she slid from beneath the sheets and got to her feet. Maybe Ciri had gone for breakfast?

Yennefer closed her eyes, scrubbed her hand against her face and slowly moved toward her vanity, moving to sit down in front of it, flinching as she studied the unfamiliar face. Her hair was in disarray, her make-up had streaked and there were dark circles beneath her eyes that were tinged with darkness. She was ugly, so ugly. She brought a hand to her face, scrubbing at the black streaks that imitated her tears, unconcerned that it had and the flesh had started to redden as she furiously scrubbed away the reminders.

* * *

"This is…" Dandelion, for the first time in ages that Geralt had known him, was lost for words. Utterly flabbergasted upon hearing the tale. "This is unbelievable… Impossible! Maybe it's some kind of a trick on that djinn's part? Maybe it tricked you both and did something to you to scorn Yennefer?"

"Why would it need that?"

"Because they're all mad to be summoned! They are ready to kill for it! It couldn't harm her, but you weren't his master at the time."

Geralt thought about it and shrugged. "Your idea makes sense, except for I have no clue what it could be that he's done to me. I didn't feel any different until she asked me… Well."

"Oh, Geralt, you don't understand! It can't be true, it's absolutely tragic! … However…" He stared at the ground in front of him, pensive and focused, fingering his lute. "Tragic ballads are so outrageously popular - but if the epic love still has even the slightest hint of hope to it. And I believe in what you have with her, Geralt. I always had. Your story just can't end like this. No, it's impossible. I refuse to believe it's how it ends."

"Believe what you will, Dandelion," Geralt said, closing his eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds of starting summer around him, intensified by his mutated senses. "It doesn't change what I don't feel."

"There must be a way to reverse it! We have to try! Look at yourself, Geralt, your cheeks are smooth! You shaved! Why? Not once in my long memory of travelling with you had you had any yearning to maintain such trait, nor had any of the fine vixens we met objected to your stubble. If you ask me, I'd say most of them loved it that way. So why would you do it now? I'll tell you why: because the certain famous sorceress has a taste too refined and finicky and you've just came back from being around her. And shaved this morning."

The Witcher reflected on his reason and didn't really like it. "I did because I wanted to."

"Pardon my dialect, but bollocks, Geralt. Darn bollocks. You did it out of habit. Because her opinion still flies high on your horizon."

_Habit_, he said. Geralt frowned, mulling it over.

What if the whole bond they had was also a sort of a morbid habit? He latched onto Yen out of some deeply rooted need to belong?

Unsettled, he tried to push the thought away.

"Do you have any new ballads, Dandelion? I could use anything at all to change the subject. Please."

The poet grumbled. "Ah well, all right. But this conversation is not over."

Geralt chuckled, despite himself. "Keep it for Ciri's return. With me, this discussion is closed. Go ahead, I know you want to brag about your new piece. Do me the honor."

"Before I do, allow me the last thing: answer my question. And then we're done discussing this. Deal?"

Geralt groaned. "Fine. What is it?"

"With all honesty, Geralt, tell me: would you truly want to never have made that wish to have nothing to lose now? Would you want to, maybe...never have known her?"

Geralt thought about this carefully. He thought about their fight with the first djinn, about her defiance and her tempting him with all the things he could have wished for. He thought of her fury when they met at the golden dragon hunt. He thought of how she stared at him with her daring cold eyes demanding he stopped pouting over finding out about her other lover who wanted Geralt out of the picture to propose to her – and how she refused to choose between them. He thought about Essi the Poet and how her desperate love horrified him to think of how Yennefer had been forced to tolerate his all those years.

('You know how it is. We're made for one another, but nothing would come out of it. … Kiss me and let me go.')

"I would," Geralt murmured his answer like a man in a dream.

Dandelion was completely quiet - so uncharacteristically silent Geralt thought he might have imagined the poet's presence.

Just like his bond with... with... _Yennefer_...

He blinked and raised his head to throw a look at Dandelion. "You promised a ballad."

"Oh... Yes," he shook his head to clear his mind like someone who had been consumed by a deep reverie. He flashed the Witcher a smile. "Just wait till you hear this, my friend, you will be humming it to yourself in the sleep for a week."

His fingers began their dance, pulling a beautiful melody, and he sang.

Geralt closed his eyes and let his mind drift off.

* * *

Ciri opened the door silently and entered the room. Though it turned out there was no need for caution. Yennefer was up, sitting at her vanity and studying herself.

Ciri wondered briefly if she'd somehow brought all this furniture with her from whatever base she had nowadays. They were too pretty to be the inn's own.

"Morning," Ciri said, offering a smile. "Breakfast is coming. How are you feeling?"

Relief flooded the sorceress as soon as the bedroom door opened.

_She hadn't left. _

Yennefer let her hands fall away from her face, away from the powder she had been applying and the added rouge.

"Tired," she added truthfully. "I haven't felt that way in over five or six decades. Did you sleep well?"

"Not too bad," Ciri fibbed, for sleep never truly came peacefully for her. Not since she was a child. Adulthood and all its woes. "What are you planning to do in Novigrad? Are you going after Geralt?"

Yennefer hadn't even considered going after him as an option. He'd fled from her for a reason and she was satisfied to give him that space, if only to protect herself while she tried to nurse his rejection.

"I thought I'd travel, go on to some other town and find my way back to Nilfgaard for a while. You're more than welcome to join me, unless you'd like to go to Novigrad?"

Ciri flinched subtly. "Nilfgaard?"

Taking a seat on the foot of the bed, she was silent a moment, trying to sort through her own thoughts.

"Have you any contact with the Emperor?"

Ciri's change in demeanor didn't go overlooked as her relation to Nilfgaard and her father had never been an easy one. Yennefer wished she could make it easier on her.

"As of this time? None. The last time I had contact with him was when Geralt and I had needed him in relation to finding you."

But that had been a little while ago.

"I thought I could make an ephemeral turn in Tarnhann."

One of the smaller cities, one of the few that although like most judged her, they were more open and tolerate of what she did and seeking her help.

"You know, just until— _this_ passes."

This feeling of loss and helplessness that she was unused to.

"Will it pass?" Ciri asked, relieved to know the sorceress wasn't in close contact with her father at current. It wasn't that Ciri didn't ever want to see him again, or that she was even curious of what he wanted her for, but it was complicated. Even when she was hunted she had a certain freedom she'd never experience should she return to her place at court. "Geralt said he would come back for me. If I stayed here."

Maybe that would urge Yen to stay as well? Already Ciri felt as though she was supposed to choose. And she didn't want to.

Yennefer had no way in which to answer the girl and her own heart's rapid beat wasn't helping either. It seemed to mock her and the idea that she could ever run away from it – from him. Oh, she had tried, done it for many years and somehow they always found their way back.

"He said he was coming back?"

She knew he wouldn't abandon Ciri, he wouldn't have dreamt of it, but he'd fled so quickly she assumed that he was giving Yennefer time to make her escape as he knew she would.

"You want to stay?"

Ciri wasn't sure if she should tell her the truth. It would hurt her to be with Geralt now, she knew that. But wouldn't she hurt no matter what? "I want to stay with my family." She sounded more like a child than she had in a long time. "That's you and Geralt. Both of you. I don't know what to do now you can't be in the same town together."

As much as Yennefer hurt, the look on Ciri's face was enough to temporarily shut it down, to force the mage to see outside of herself, to accept that perhaps she deserved this nothing from him. She had taken it for granted before and here she was willing to run away again even after she knew she had pushed him to it.

What to do, though? Yennefer felt broken, she felt lost and she couldn't imagine a repair that would hold.

Aside from Ciri.

Maybe she'd keep Yennefer from falling apart and diving into her older habits? Ciri's pleading had surely reached her and she didn't want to leave the girl again – not after she'd been gone so long already.

"I'll stay. I'll stay with you."

Ciri's lips quirked in a hopeful smile. "Really? Even after he comes back?"

She knew he would. He wouldn't have said so otherwise.

"Even then."

Yennefer's heart even gave a hopeful thump at the prospect. Who knew that despite it all, despite the heartache and numbness and the window he'd given her to escape, that she'd still want to see him and be with him? Oh, it would hurt to know that the connection itself wasn't really there, but maybe, just maybe Yennefer could settle like he had for the scrapes that little she could manage?

"It's not as if he's the plague. He just doesn't love me anymore."

Ciri got to her feet and searched for her sword. Now that they had decided they weren't leaving at once, she'd have time to give it a proper cleaning after breakfast. "I don't believe it. That he doesn't love you, I mean. You don't just suddenly fall out of love with someone."

Yennefer turned back to the mirror, studying her reflection and the uncharacteristic horror she hadn't seen since before she even became a sorceress.

"He's a Witcher. He isn't meant to love."

The same way the sorceress wasn't and shouldn't be able to and now knew she did.

"Magic is a powerful source, you know that. The way it was cast, at the time, I was weakened and perhaps he was, too. It could have crept in and locked on. It was what it was meant to do."

At least it explained in part that particular connection they'd had or he'd had to her, even if it hadn't really changed in essence for her.

"If you say so." Ciri still didn't believe it. Not meant to love? That was something people who were afraid of their own emotions said. Never once had that been instilled in her during her Witcher training.

There was a knock on the door and the innkeeper's wife entered with a tray laden with the breakfast she had promised, as well as a pot of tea. She set it on the small circular table next to Yennefer's megascope, which she eyed curiously before excusing herself and exiting again.

Ciri put her sword aside and took a seat, always hungry. "What do you love about him?"

Yennefer had managed to untangle her unruly locks by the time the breakfast arrived, but no sooner the door had opened, had she whispered an incantation of invisibly and disappeared from sight.

She had a certain reputation to uphold and being unkempt wasn't one of them.

When the door closed, she reappeared again, finishing with the knot she'd been fighting with and looking a tad more like the self that she'd lost the day before.

She got to her feet, walked over to the bath and used the cold water to splash her face, wiping away the last rouge so she could reapply, all the while thinking of what it was she loved about Geralt.

There was a lot.

"What I most loved was that he always had this uncanny ability of knowing me even when I wasn't sure I knew myself. It's been that way since day one and so far, the only person to date I feel that has seen every bit of who I am and doesn't judge me for it. I never thought it possible to be loved like that, to be seen in my entirety and not have someone repelled by it."

Yennefer hadn't meant to add the last out loud, but it had been there, one of the many staples of her past that had driven her to that point of desperate disbelief where only the djinn had the true answers.

Ciri hadn't even noticed Yen's disappearing act until she re-emerged out of thin air.

Sorceresses – so vain.

She cracked an egg and rolled it along the table, picking the shell apart while Yennefer talked. "Love. Not loved," Ciri corrected her, only because she didn't want to find out the feelings had disappeared on Yen's end as well. How would they ever find their way back together if that was the case?

"And," Ciri paused with the egg, fixing her with a perplexed look, "who could ever be repelled by _you_?"

Yennefer arched a brow, lips quirking into a tickled smile at Ciri's question. She was sure Ciri wasn't deaf to what people said about Yennefer when she was around or not. Sure, superficially they appreciated a good thing, but it never went further than that. Geralt, on the other hand, extended both ways in equal measure and usually their passion appeared to be on the same level.

Even if at times it had been terrifying.

"Guess you'd be surprised."

She used the wrap she'd fallen asleep in to dab her face dry, walked to her clothing trunk and removed some clean undergarments, quickly stepping into them and dressing.

When she was done, she headed back over to the dresser and applied her face anew.

"Preparing to join the festivities again?"

Ciri eyed Yennerfer's undergarments with mild envy. Even as a child she'd thought the sorceress the most beautiful and powerful woman, and a part of her had wanted to be just like Yennefer. Ciri didn't necessarily understand all the hardships her powers or beauty could bring. She just saw the glamour. And loved the fact she didn't wear poofy dresses.

"No," Ciri said after a moment's contemplation, helping herself to a slice of bread to have with her egg. "I'm staying by your side."

Yennefer regarded her in the mirror with a smile, deciding she'd keep the last few touches for later and moved to join her with the breakfast.

Unlike Ciri, the mage didn't bother rolling and peeling her own egg, she simply waved another hand and cleared them all, helping herself to a neatly peeled one.

"Shall we play a hand of Gwent?"

* * *

"We need to get to Skellige," Dandelion announced as Geralt finished making a fire and settled at it next to him to boil the needed oil. A pack of harpies had been bothering a village a few miles from Novigrad, and he had all the evidence to pinpoint their nest's location.

"I have work to do," he argued, rummaging in the saddlebag for ingredients. "More people will get hurt unless I take care of it now. I wouldn't have returned otherwise."

"As if," Dandelion scoffed and fed the fire, blowing at it to get the flames brighter. "Nevertheless, Ciri must be awfully disappointed in you – abandoning her so soon after finding. You must be ashamed of yourself. And ready to rectify this monstrous choice of yours. I'm even going to be so generous as to go with you."

"No ships sail there now, nor would you tolerate their climate."

"See, that's the point: I hate, absolutely hate their cold and winds – it never compliments my complexion. But for you and Ciri I'm willing to get over it for the sake of a hearty reunion. What do you say? I know a sorceress who would help."  
"Didn't they all flee the city?"

"I know people who know people."

"You'd even leave that cabaret of yours?"

"Priscilla would do just fine, she's very meticulous and I believe she's been born to manage a cabaret, more so than I could ever hope to learn. It will be fine. Just say you're in. I miss Ciri too much to sit here and wait, besides, your stories of the Skelligan feasts got to me. I'm sure Zoltan misses me bitterly."

"I need to do this job, Dandelion. Don't be a child."

"I'm not stopping you. I mean we should leave right after."

"I'll think about it. Now let me concentrate."

* * *

"I'm not playing you for money. You're too shrewd," Ciri said through a mouthful of bread and egg, pouring them both cups of tea before she rose to find her deck of cards. "But I will play for bragging rights."

"Probably for the best," Yennefer retorted, smilingly softly. "You're likely to lose."

Yennefer watched Ciri's every expression of concentration, the way her mouth ticked when she had a particularly good hand, the way she'd frowned when she didn't, it was all subtle, but it was all similar to the person who for all intents and purposes hadn't helped birth her. Mannerisms adopted from years of watching, learning and living in such close quarters.

You'd think that with all the time they'd been apart that would have changed, but it was all till there, all carefully etched into her blood and bones, fueling their family connection.

Once the game finished and Ciri lost interest in being beaten, Yennefer slid off the bed, returned to the vanity and added the final touched to her face.

"Perhaps we should go see Crach and The Queen?" Ciri suggested, sheathing her sword which she had been cleaning again. "They did invite us personally, after all. Would be rude to hide out here all day."

"You're probably right," Yennefer mused, rising from her chair, sufficiently put together and every bit the figure she had always been, as if last night and yesterday's break hadn't happened.

She'd always been good at carrying her mask.

"I was about to suggest the very same."

Yennefer sashayed across the room and headed for the door, assuming that Ciri'd follow.

Ciri strapped the sword to her back and followed, maneuvering through the rapidly growing crowd of patrons at the inn. Their cheeriness was infectious.

The chill winter wind swirled around them the moment they set foot outside. Ciri didn't mind. Unlike last night, the sun was out now and warming Skellige's inhabitants despite the snow on the ground.

They tracked through the village and started the climb for the castle, up a devastating number of steep stairs that she knew would soon enough turn her breathing from woman to walrus. "I think I would play with Queen Cerys when I was a child, you know? Once or twice. I believe we're the same age."

"Sparrowhawk looks older than you do."

Clearly the cold harsh weather, their lifestyle and battles had taken its toll. Like it did on most of them.

As soon as they entered the castle doors, the sentinels made a point of announcing them, ushering them to the newly crowded Queen as if for the first time.

Cerys rose from her chair, her cheeks pink from the mead most her court where sharing. They'd been making work of keeping to tradition now that the drama of their attack had faded.

Yennefer bowed respectfully, heard Cerys laugh as she approached and smiled while the sorceress straightened.

"I was just about to do some riding with my brothers. They challenged me earlier and managed to get a seconds head on me, but I feel my new crown might give me the boost I need for a win. Care to join us?'

She didn't look at the sorceress asking that question.

* * *

The sun was in its peak when Geralt found his way back to the camp where Dandelion was waiting. The troubadour refused to leave for the city, daring believe Geralt wasn't going to be long. The Witcher didn't count the time time it took him to clear out the mountain and the harpies nest, but he assumed it took hours.

Dandelion jumped up as he saw him and Roach. "Thank the gods, I was beginning to worry!"

"Never took you for a particularly religious type." Geralt didn't bother securing the reins to the tree and headed for the campfire.

"You've blood!" Dandelion pointed. Geralt looked down and saw crimson trickles on his leather pants seeping from beneath the jacket.

"It's just scratches. One of the harpies got me with the talons. There was a lot of them. If not for the bombs, I wouldn't have pulled it."

"You need it looked at. Can you ride?"

"Stop it, Dandelion, it's not the first nor the last time. I'm fine. Just a bit tired."

Riding was uncomfortable, but the potion Geralt had applied to the wounds helped kill some pain. The witch Dandelion's connections had led them to offered to help with the wound, but Geralt relied on Skellige and Ermion in case he needed assistance. She shrugged and opened the portal.

Geralt squeezed his eyes shut and stepped through after the troubadour…

… and out to what appeared to be the inner yard of the castle Geralt had left from before when it was the old druid to open the door.

"Oh bloody hell, how can anything survive in this wind?!" Dandelion was hugging his arms dancing from foot to foot, looking miserable.

The Witcher laughed. "Get inside, crybaby."

* * *

In Yennefer's wake, Ciri attempted an awkward curtsy in honor of the new queen. Cerys snickered approaching and Ciri took an instant liking to her. A monarch with a sense of humor? Her kind of girl.

Her offer of a race had Ciri grinning mischievously. "I never miss the opportunity to put boys in their place," she said, then paused, her smile dimming ever so slightly when she remembered Yennefer at her side. Ciri couldn't leave her when she was in pain. "Um, but perhaps now is not the best time."

The Hall filled with long tables and people hummed like a hive of disturbed bees. They drank and laughed and quarreled and bragged and argued and laughter thundered again.

"Not much warmer here, save the wind," Dandelion grumbled, his eyes scanning the crowds as they went in search of familiar faces.

"Geralt!"

Zoltan detached from the noisy group at a Gwent table and approached them.

"Oh gods, Dandelion! Didn't expect to see you here. Is Priscilla with you?"

"Someone has to take care of work," Dandelion said through clattering teeth.

Zoltan laughed, gave the bard's arm a friendly smack. "Indeed. Shame I won't hear her beautiful voice ring in this Hall. At least we have you now." He looked to the Witcher, his eyes narrowing. "You all right, Geralt?"

"Had a contract to finish. A bit tired."

"He's probably bleeding in his bandage, that stubborn bore," Dandelion put in, folding his arms.

"Told you, it's just a couple if scratches. Nothing serious. It's been awhile since our journeys and you've forgotten that it's what happens half the times."

"I miss our travels, but not that part," the bard smirked.

"Aye," Zoltan laughed. "You like the rich parties and invitations to such and crowds of girls fainting to your ballads."

"Nothing wrong with enjoying one's talents to the fullest," the bard said, grinning.

"It's the perfect time," Yennefer supplied, hardly skipping a beat.

Ciri had already spent so much time with Yennefer the night before and the morning, the sorceress didn't want to further bring her down with the festival was actually about having a good time.

And they had been having fun most the morning.

"Go on," Yennefer encouraged, deciding against the drink, bringing a hand to Ciri's shoulder with an encouraging squeeze, nudging her toward the Queen. "I'd like to watch."

"Well, if you're sure…" Ciri's grin back in place, she traipsed after the Queen who was sporting a mischievous smile of her own, moving towards the exit so they could get to the stables.

Ciri never even made it out of the main hall, however, before her heart skipped a beat in excitement and she threw herself at a white-haired man standing next to a colorful troubadour and a redheaded dwarf. "Geralt!" She had expected him back, of course, but not so soon and she found herself delighted and relieved of having him with her again. "You're back!"

Geralt barely managed to notice her ashen hair and familiar attire dashing to him before her arms were already around his neck. She moved so fast.

He grunted at the impact that jolted his side with pain but squeezed her to him in return.

"You just saw him last night!" Dandelion groaned. "And I came all this way to this horrible ice-covered hell valley and deserve no recognition? Oh, Ciri, I never thought you'd deal that blow!"

Ciri smirked at Dandelion over Geralt's shoulder, noticing how very uncomfortable he was. "Have you braved the cold to come see me? How valiant you are."

Yennefer waited until both women had swept past her and then turned on her heels, intending to follow at a few paces. They hadn't made it very far before Ciri threw herself at a familiar face. He'd come back sooner than Yennefer had anticipated, perhaps sooner than was needed to foster this ailing heartbreak that kept rearing and seemed to scream like a banshee.

Dandelion was the only figure to temporarily break the deadlock of emotion. She stepped into the fray as casually as she could muster, scarcely looking at the troubadour addressing Ciri.

"Looks like the business you had to take care of took a bit out of you. You all right?"

Ciri released Geralt when the sound of Yennefer's voice reached her and peered down between them to examine what Yennefer had noticed and she had not. "You're hurt," she murmured unnecessarily because apparently everyone knew.

"You need a healer, Geralt?" Cerys asked from behind Ciri, observing the Witcher with a shrewd gaze.

Geralt faintly regretted coming too soon - such attention was not something he ever enjoyed or was used to seeing.

He smiled for their comfort and shook his head. "Just a few scratches, nothing too bad. Usual consequence of the work I do."

"Nonsense," Yennefer retorted, scarcely letting her gaze shift from his face, feeling more possessive than she ever had and unwilling to let anyone else the court deal with him. "I'll take care of it."

She said it in such a way that Cerys had glanced at her, a small smile twitching onto the corner of her mouth, her shoulders lifting with an unconcerned shrug.

'That takes care of that.'

The possessiveness in Yen's tone didn't go amiss. Ciri tried not to smile at that, some small hope kindling that the two of them may find their way back to one another.

"Yes. You should probably go do that right away," she insisted, trying not to be too obvious. "Dandelion, we're going racing. It's the Queen's decree!"

Cerys, following Ciri's train of thought, nodded most severely. "It is. Let us go."

Ciri hooked her arm through Dandelion's and attempted to pull him away.

Zoltan laughed hard. "Dandelion and races around Skellige! That's something I would die to watch!"

Dandelion threw his hands up groaning dramatically. "Ciri! How can you wound me so! I will freeze alive! And then I won't be alive anymore! The world shall never recover from such loss."

Geralt chuckled and took his gaze to the raven-haired beauty, regarded her with interest. "You're a healer?"

Neither Dandelions dramatics or Ciri's enthusiasm went unnoticed. With a nudge from her magic, Yennefer forced the troubadour to take an instinctive step from his friend's side. He yelped in surprise, perhaps even a bit of pain as if he'd expected he'd been stung, regarding her as if she had betrayed him.

_Oh, he should be used to it. _

Yennefer smirked, eyes transfixed on Geralt, disregarding the poet's outrage.

"I'm a good many things, Geralt, you know that."

She moved to his side, taking over from where Ciri had been.

"As soon as I've dressed Geralt's wounds we'll be along to watch."

At least she would.

Geralt looked at her with a both confused and apologetic smile. "Besides the healing talent, what else is there I should be aware of?"

"That you were missed."

It hadn't mattered that he'd only been gone a day. She took a hold of his elbow, encouraging him to follow behind the troop of giddy youngsters heading off to ride.

"I'll take you back to the inn. I have a poultice that'll fix you right up."

Geralt followed, thinking once again that he should have come in a day, after having taken care of that and a couple more contracts.

Dandelion never respected other people's plans.

* * *

Ciri cackled in glee at Dandelion's outrage, and between her and Zoltan, they pulled the minstrel outside to walk the tunnel that led down to the stables. It was a bit more comfortable than the stairs considering it protected them from the wind "It's your own damned fault," Ciri told him when his teeth started chattering excessively. "You came to Skellige wearing tights!"

Dandelion appeared to have lost the will for rebuttals. Either that or he feared opening his mouth would let the last of his heat escape.

They reached the stables before long where Cerys' brother, Hjalmar, was waiting along with a few friends.

"I see how it is!" he called to his sister as they approached. "Queen of only one day and already you expect others to saddle your horse for you!"

"Shut your gob!" the Queen howled back with a smile, taking Ciri's hand and leading her into the stables where they were to pick and ready their horses.

* * *

The Inn was roaring with its own festivities when Geralt and Yennefer walked in. No one even noticed as the innkeeper was loading a freshly baked boar into the table to the thundering cheer of the already happily drunk patrons.

Yennefer released his elbow, quietly walking beside him, reveling in the fact that they were able to do that despite the change in their relationship – the new dynamic.

Was it that new, though?

Nothing had changed for her aside from the fact that he hadn't made a singular suggestive comment yet and they'd been in each other's company for little over five minutes.

She walked ahead of him into the bedroom, heading straight for the bath to check if the water had been changed up and reheated. It was tepid but it would do.

"You should take a bath. The less grime, the less chance of infection."

But he knew that.

Geralt stopped in the middle of the room watching her. "I have before coming here. I had a bit of time, so I didn't waste it."

Yennefer flicked the water aside with a nod, drying her hand on the renewed towel nearby and gestured for him to sit, moving toward her items trunk.

A motion of her hand and it flipped open. She never left it unguarded or unlocked. She navigated through the ingredients inside.

"We thought you might have been a few days. What'd you have left to do in Novigrad?"

He sat down, regarding her with mild confusion.

"Ciri must've been quite talkative," he remarked, unbuckling the straps on his jacket. "I couldn't finish all I intended because Dandelion insisted on coming right away. He wasn't going to before. Must've missed Ciri and Zoltan. And, perhaps, a place to brag a ballad or ten."

"You're going back then?"

The idea that he would leave as quickly as he appeared suddenly didn't sit right with her.

She set the items down on top of the mattress, pushing aside his hands so that she could undo the last of the buckles and straps for him, being careful once she managed to free it up and peel it from his upper body.

"Soon?"

He let her take control and leaned back on his elbows. "When Ciri's ready to go."

There would be some time, then.

She stepped away, reclaimed the herbs from the bed, already ground down and quickly threw them all together in one of her bowls. She took her time doing it as well.

"I was thinking of leaving."

She gauged his reaction to the suggested news.

He hemmed his acknowledgement. "You don't like the cold, either? Or there's some urgent business? A djinn to tame?" The smallest of smiles touched the corners of his mouth.

"I can deal with the cold." It was his cold that was more biting than ever. Not that the smile, although caustic in nature, had gone unnoticed. "No. I assumed you'd prefer it. That's why you left, isn't it?"

He frowned, confused. "What would it have to do with my leave? I had contracts. I'm a witcher, if you've forgotten perchance. And why would I prefer you left? You're a gem to any party. It would be a sour loss."

"Even so, we decided to stay a few days. I thought that after the djinn that maybe you were trying to distance yourself from me."

She rarely ever lied to him in the past about how she felt and she felt even less inclined now to pretend that he hadn't hurt her in the most impossible way.

"Not that I would blame you."

She carried the herbs over to the bath, added some water and mixed it together more proficiently as she returned to his side.

He stared at her, dumbfounded, as if she suddenly started to speak some demonic dialect.

"Distance myself from you after the djinn? _That_ djinn? But it happened dozens of years ago. You had no desire for anything other than that... one time."

"What?"

Yennefer blinked, his response giving her pause, unsure of what he was trying to refer to and why he was saying that it—as in, sex—had happened one time? Was he really that unfazed by what had happened a day ago that he couldn't even refer to it or had forgotten about it?

She narrowed her eyes speculatively. "You go from feeling nothing, to pretending that we've never been intimate every time we happened to be in the same breathing space? That your subtle attempt at moving on?"

Geralt was lost for words for a long moment, searching his memories as if there was anything to doubt. He watched her with quiet astonishment. "I met you just one other time - by accident, when I joined the golden dragon hunting party. And nothing happened between us then. I never saw you since."

"Nothing? Never?!"

She set the poultice aside on the bed covers, took his face into her hands and thoroughly kissed him until she was sure he'd feel that spark of recognition.

Thoroughly astounded, Geralt didn't expect her kiss, but it swept his mind off its focus completely. He lost himself in her lips working on his in such delicious manner that immediately shot a hot and heavy desire through his nerves. Her hair tickled his face and the heavenly aroma of lilac and gooseberries was irresistibly arousing. It brought him back to their frantic sex in the half-destroyed room upon her banishing the djinn. It was so long ago, but he never forgot any details.

Yennefer buried her hands in his hair as soon as he returned the exploration, delving her tongue into his mouth to better taste what she'd missed the night before and to fully absorb him a while longer before unsteadily pulling back. Oh, he was kissing her as he always did, and she'd easily been able to read his mind during it, but not once had their time on the ship come up.

"You've lost your memory."

No sooner she said it, no sooner the realization kicked in. Did her breaking the djinn's connection erase her from his consciousness entirely?

"What's the last thing I asked you?"

He frowned, recollecting. "To make the Igni sign to free your hands from the binds. Back at that dragon hunt. The last time I saw you before today. It burnt your skin, but you demanded you could take it. I did as you asked. Our ways parted upon winning the fight."

"What do you remember of Ciri?" She wanted to see if there were points where the girl also disappeared, although their greeting had been familiar and the same as it always was. "You remember that we'd lost her?"

"We?! It was I who lost her. Several times, in fact. I tried to escape that bond at first, and then... I guess it happened to be stronger. And then the Hunt - I assume you know about it, then. Who told you? Ciri?"

_I?_

As in, Yennefer'd had no pain at all. As if she hadn't been there helping Ciri?

"No, I— I helped you get her back. You don't remember the garden? The elf?"

"If you mean Avallac'h – yes, I do know him. Garden… what garden?" Something dawned in the back of his mind as Geralt spoke it. "Freya's Garden here in Skellige – I came upon it once while searching for Ciri's trail. I killed a werewolf there, but found nothing helpful. Rather one of the women told me she saw Ciri ride away from the village, and I followed the trail to the beach. Found a new lead. I… I was on my own."

Yennefer closed her eyes as he spoke, trying to come to terms with the new information and the fact that she had been completely erased from his head. She guessed that's where the connection came in, the added nothing, but then why had he been willing to sit with her after? Was what he'd said true or had it been before that and come in later?

"I'll quit with the questions."

She also had all the answers she could want. She swiped at her lips, touching the last reminisces of their shared kiss and then slowly picked up the poultice. She moved to her haunches, pushed his arms aside and carefully got to work applying the mix to his body.

"This should heal you up within a day."

She shut down, and the light went dim in her gaze in a strange manner. Geralt couldn't decipher what the light was, but then – as her fingers touched his damaged skin – it occurred to him it eerily resembled hope.

Hope for what? Did she hope they had something even after just two times they ever met?

He felt he was missing something crucial. He caught her chin gently in his hand making her look up at him.

"You said I lost my memory. I had once – because of the Wild Hunt. Why did you say it now?"

Yennefer looked up when he took a hold of her chin, keeping her fingers pressed to his abdomen, meeting his eyes with curiosity.

"Because it's happened again. You might not understand, but you and I, we've had a lifetime of ups and downs and were on the edge of an even better beginning."

At least it had felt that way when she finally rid herself of every fear she possessed.

To relay that, she raised up, pressed another kiss to his mouth and then stepped back to go in search of some material strips with which to seal the poultice.

"But…" He looked after her as she moved away, feeling shocked and helpless. "How did it happen?"

"How does it ever happen?"

Yennefer speared him a look from where she was rifling around in her trunk, using magic to slice a few pieces from the uncut material she'd had, not feeling up to struggling the more conventional way.

Usually she was prepared, always at the ready, but since their thing with the djinn it seemed she had lost her touch a little. At least in certain aspects.

"People fall in love, they become intimate – life gets complicated."

Strange to hear that coming from the cold-hearted sorceress she was etched into his memory as – she made it clear from the start how little she cared about making any intimate connections, especially with someone like him.

But then, there was what she claimed had happened to him. _Again._

"No, I mean my supposed loss of memory. How could I have lost it? I don't feel I have any gaps in need of filling."

"The djinn. Our connection. I— I made a mistake. I thought that what we felt was tied to it and when I could, I tried to break it – I did."

It hurt to say that, it really did, especially now that she knew what it cost her and like the night before. The tears built and then disappeared as she returned to his side, the strips of material in hand. She smoothed them out and pressed them to his wound, across the paste to make sure that it got the coverage it needed.

There was pain as she pressed a bandage to his side, but it was as if it was happening in another world, altogether. He was trying to make sense of what she explained, but a lot was lacking.

"What did we have? And why was it tied to the djinn?"

"We have love. And… each other." Now that she knew the cause, she refused to speak about in the past tense. "How's that feel?"

"It's fine," he murmured automatically, mulling it over. "Witchers don't love or settle down. You seemed to be aware the first time we met."

Yennefer flattened her hand against his abdomen, took his face into her hands again, smoothing his hair away, combing it behind his ears, gently touching him in ways she had never allowed herself to before. She brought her lips to meet his own, putting everything she had into it, sliding her arms around his neck until they were flush against one another and were both struggling for a touch of breath.

Despite the jolts of pain in his side due to all the moving and her advances, her kisses were welcome. It was like something from a dream he had and then forgot over time. Her breath tickled his lips as she pulled back a bit, and he stared into the violet eyes of hers and saw the same spark of hope reignited.

"What's that feel like?" It sure felt like love to her and she was only really now able to label it.

He didn't know what to offer for that hope in her to not die out. He barely knew her, and she claimed they were in love.

It sorely resembled what happened with the loss of memory he actually knew about, but he couldn't quite put his finger on how, exactly.

"You're tempting me. Though it wouldn't take as much effort, especially from you."

"That's lust, Geralt."

One of the only connections between them she had easily been able to distinguish. Yennefer slid her arms from around his neck, leaning in once against as if to kiss him, halting short of the actual touch to bring their foreheads together.

She wanted him to differentiate the closeness, the scent and warmth, see if any of it registered on his features, assuring him of what she knew was there and what she had quite possibly buried.

Even if he didn't, she closed her eyes, savoring the moment for herself, grateful that it wasn't her love that had been unreturned but lost entirely.

All she had to do now was unlock it.

She was right, it was lust, and it played all the more insistently on his body the more she bathed him in her delicious scent. Her black hair enclosed around their faces brought together like curtains, isolating them from the rest of the world. Even the sounds of the Skelligan sailors feasting in the hall outside their room retreated away.

"What are you doing?" he ventured after a while of her strange meditation, her forehead pressed to his.

"Regretting my decisions."

She drew back slightly and pressed an uncharacteristic kiss to his forehead, moving to pick up his armor, the bits she had helped him discard earlier so that he could slip back into it.

"We should get back to the festivities."

She needed time to think on what to do with him now, how she was to work around this new change and if there was any way to undo what she'd done. Should she even? Maybe he was happier this way? Without the knowledge and complications they had shared before. They could start fresh.

But would it be the same?

Nothing had changed for her, but who was to say he'd ever reach that pinnacle again?

The abrupt end after all the declarations of love they supposedly had was disappointing. He didn't feel like going back to the roaring Nordlings. Ciri and Dandelion were out there, though. He had to make an effort.

Geralt sighed and began to dress.

His attitude didn't go unnoticed and wondered if his reasoning for not wanting to join the festivities stemmed from exhaustion. "If you're tired, you should stay, I'm sure Ciri would know where to find us."

"I'll rest when I'm dead," he replied, getting up, and buckled up the remaining straps of his jacket. "Thank you for the treatment. Feels better already."

"You don't have to thank me for that. I'm glad it's helping."

She washed her hands in the bath, dried them once more and sealed her trunk, moving toward the door to guide him out.

"Do you know Triss?"

"Triss Merigold? Yes, I know her. She helped me a few times, I helped her in return. Why?"

"That's it? You've never—"

Yennefer didn't even want to put the idea in his head, but for her question, she found it necessary, wondering if this new alternate reality where she had removed herself from his life, if he'd automatically replaced her with Triss. Yennefer assumed it could be possible since once upon a time Triss had found him before.

"—you two aren't intimately close?"

Geralt smirked with unexplained amusement. "A couple of times in the past."

_And only once with me?_

What kind of bizarre destiny was that! If Yennefer were a cat, she'd have hissed, whirled on him and pounced, fucking Triss out of him.

Only, if he didn't know Yennefer, what would that serve but to push him away or have him divert to the usual?

And yet the need to possess was almost smothering.

"Wonderful."

A hand swept through the air, magic springing forth to release a spark of that immediately jumped into a whirlwind of gold that would carry them to Ciri and the race Yennefer assumed was in progress.

"After you."

Geralt made a face, reprimanding her with a look. "Hate portals. We could just walk."

* * *

By the time Cerys and Ciri had saddled their horses and led them outside, Dandelion had found two new female admirers to drape him with warm pelts and hug him close. This was the most content Ciri had seen him since he appeared earlier.

She snorted with mingled exasperation and amusement.

"Oy, if you want this to be a fair race, you two gotta catch up," Hjalmar said, moving to her and his sister carrying large tankards of what appeared to be mead. He grinned. "The lads and I have got two down our hatches already. Your turn."

Ciri exchanged a brief look with the Queen, who shrugged and accepted her tankard without protest. She followed Cerys's example and drank deeply.

They drank more than two tankards and once Ciri made it into the saddle, she promptly fell out of it again.

It didn't hurt. Barely even felt it.

Giggling, she climbed back up and guided her horse to the starting line, throwing a glance over her shoulder to see if Yen and Geralt had emerged from the small crowd that had gathered.

She couldn't see them, anywhere. Hopefully that was a good sign.

She made a mental note never to touch Yennefer's stuffed unicorn and urged her steed into a gallop as soon as the starting-trumpet sounded. They were off!


	3. Chapter 3

With a momentary hesitation, Geralt stepped in, anyway, and found himself in the rear of a cheering crowd. The race had begun, he saw Ciri's back. She careened sideways in her saddle as she rode. Like… she was drunk? He wouldn't believe it impossible - Skelligans didn't favor sober races.

Once he crossed over, Yennefer waited a beat to release the breath she'd been holding and to let go of her anger. She forced a smile onto her lips, one that turned genuine once she reached the other side and the horn of the racing starting sounded in her ears. She was just in time to see Ciri take off, feeling a sense of pride at how comfortable on the steed the girl was although she was listing slightly, kicking off into the lead with all the grace of a drunken elf. She'd be all right, though, Yennefer knew that much and no one else seemed to be forging any better, either.

"Are you going to join?"

Geralt turned to the sound of her voice as she came to stand by him, and gifted her with a surprised look. "Not with my current side problem. Besides, it's fair when they're of the same age."

"Smart."

He'd never really minded doing that kind of thing, though. Hurt or drunk. She guessed the issue was that he was still too sober. She knew she was. And she needed to keep it up.

"How'd you convince Dandelion to join you?"

"He wanted to come and insisted we did so immediately. I intended to be here in another couple of days."

"You hadn't told me that."

And she supposed he hadn't even remembered that. Was it that she'd disappeared from his memory before he'd left or after when she was no longer in his sight?

"You remember saying goodbye to Ciri?"

He cast another look at her, frowning. "I do, very well."

"Care to share?" He would have, had he been inclined to, but she guessed, without their history, she literally had to force the words and describers from his mouth. "Was I anywhere in that picture?"

He thought about it a moment, then shook his head. "No. I didn't know you were around. And someone like you present at a party - everybody is aware. So it's strange, unless you arrived after I left."

"I arrived with you."

She knew it didn't make any sense to him and that she was pushing in parts, but it was the truth.

"We've been together for months."

His eyes widened, the pupils dilated momentarily. "Months? I… I don't know what to say to that, ehm… Yennefer, is it?"

"Yen," she corrected.

Ciri was no longer in sight but the mage could feel her moving along the road.

"That's what you call me. Only you."

Sometimes Ciri, but for the most part, where the nickname was concerned, he was the one and only person that dared.

"Yen," he repeated, tasting the name on his tongue as he looked back to the track, trying to see if their round was coming to the end. Ciri was competing with someone else for the win, someone third close on their tails.

He didn't say her name or it's shortening as it was revered; he said it as if he were trying to get acquainted with a foreign taste. She didn't like it, didn't like how it had changed.

* * *

Ciri had no knowledge of who was ahead of her and who lagged behind. She simply rode, trying to follow the feeble markers so she wouldn't accidentally end up in someone's back garden.

The person before her toppled off their horse and landed face-first in mud, making her cackle with victorious glee until she realized she'd almost veered off course and got smacked in the face with a twig. That woke her up for the next few seconds.

She rode hard and fast, delighted to, for once, be racing without imminent danger on her tail. She'd spent so long fleeing from the Wild Hunt she'd almost forgotten what it was like to have silly, stupid fun.

The rest of the race passed relatively peacefully, literally going by in a blur. Someone was coming up on her side but she didn't know who, didn't turn it find out, her sights set on that finishing line.

She crossed it to cheers of excitement from the crowd that had gathered, though she wasn't truthfully sure if she had come first or last. Her attention had been caught by Geralt and Yennefer on the sidelines.

She urged her horse in their direction, swiped a leg over the mount's back, and clumsily slid down in front of them, arms reaching for them both.

"Did you see me?" she asked, grinning in delight. "I was so fast!"

* * *

Yennefer plastered a smile on her face when the race came to an end and Ciri shuffled up to them, happy and proud of herself. Yennefer was proud of her, too.

"Surely did. You were the fastest out there! Does that mean you'll be freeing them of some coin?"

"If that race was for no prize, it's not up to Skelligan standards," the Witcher commented.

"Hell to the no," Zoltan said, pushing through the crowd to give Ciri a hearty hug of his own. "Ye did so good, lassy. So good. They'll have to give ye all the horses if there's no set prize."

Ciri returned Zoltan's embrace happily, laughing at his little outburst. "We didn't agree on a prize."

At least she hadn't. Whether or not Cerys and her brother had a bet of their own was a different story.

"Besides," she said, straightening, "what would I do with a half a dozen horses?"

She'd long learned there was no use in keeping personal belongings while hunted.

Ciri eyed Geralt and Yennefer. Neither looked particularly happy, but her drunken brain didn't much register that. "So… how are things?"

"Good," Yennefer lied for the sake of letting her be trouble-free for a while longer.

Geralt hadn't displayed any negative effects aside from the obvious and that was more Yennefer's problem than it was a detriment to anyone else, and more importantly Ciri.

That Yennefer could see thus far.

On instinct, she slid her arms around Ciri as if to congratulate her and stole a few more subtle seconds of comfort for herself. "Just fortunate you didn't end up in the mud like Ragnar."

He appeared from the crude track without his horse, nose bleeding, mud thickly encrusted on his face, the remaining multitude of Craite offspring having moved to circle in on him.

Yennefer (or _Yen_) picked the answer before Geralt could, and he let it be. In any case, he had no idea anything was different than any time before.

"Shame about the prize," Zoltan lamented. "But what we still have left is Gwent and the mead. Geralt, Ciri, let's go ruffle Dandelion's feathers before he gets too bored among all the lasses."

"Sounds like a solid plan," the Witcher said, following the dwarf toward the castle.

One of the women who had tended to Dandelion before the race was already crying, while one of the others had taken a seat on the troubadour's lap and was cooing in his ear.

Geralt and Zoltan headed his way to break up the "party". Ciri took Yennefer's hand in hers and pulled her along. She wasn't going to let the sorceress slink away so easily. Ciri wanted them all with her.

After drawing back and watching the small crowd head off, Yennefer had intended to break away, to decide what she was going to do with this new revelation and think it over.

Only Ciri didn't seem to want to give her the gap.

Yennefer smiled, letting Ciri drag her along behind them, finding herself willing to do so despite how uncomfortable this thing might have been at another time.

"He's been here only a few minutes and it looks like he's already broken his first heart."

Ciri hummed with agreement. "Dandelion has a way with the ladies, that's for sure."

"And they with him," Yennefer added conversationally.

Delaying the inevitable chat. Yennefer hadn't expected they'd talk about it while Ciri was intoxicated, and it also wasn't fair to do so when it wasn't at any risk to her and the sorceress was trying to figure it out internally.

Ciri eyed Geralt's back as they walked, looking him over for a limp or something of the like. "How are his injuries? Did he not take a potion?"

"Survivable. I applied a decent poultice. He'll be fine by morning. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"A little," Ciri admitted, even though she felt guilty about doing so considering her own situation. "Avallac'h is… nice, but he's not very festive. Not a big fan of fun." Which made sense considering being hunted by ancient evil elves was no laughing matter. "I can't remember the last time I truly relaxed."

"Maybe he needs help getting into the festive mood?" It's not as if Ciri couldn't be persuasive when she wanted to be, Yennefer thought. "I could offer him a little persuasion."

Anything to further add to her happiness.

"I think a happy Avallac'h might be a careless Avallac'h. He may be cagey and somewhat dull but he's managed to keep me alive when I wasn't able to myself."

"Fair enough." Yennefer could respect that he'd done that and the price he'd paid for it. She didn't really get on with the elf, but she also didn't hate him, how could she after everything he'd done for Ciri? She was forever indebted.

Not-so-subtly Ciri steered the conversation back to the most important topic – Geralt. "Has anything changed since last night?"

"A lot. I don't want you to worry about that tonight, but be assured I'm not going anywhere."

How could Ciri not worry when it was Geralt and Yennefer's happiness on the line? "What has changed? Did you… make up?" That was perhaps not the right word, but she wasn't sure how else to phrase herself.

"Nowhere close to that."

But unlike when the world had been crashing and burning the night before, it was different now, as if Yennefer could relax in the knowledge that the only reason he didn't love her was because he didn't know her.

"He lost his memory. He doesn't remember me. Destroying the djinn severed our connection."

"What?" Ciri halted, looking from her to Geralt's retreating back, feeling mildly horrified. "He doesn't remember… anything?"

Yennefer stopped as well, studying Geralt's back. "He remembers meeting me, a couple of exchanges here and there, but that's about it. I'm nothing in his life."

"How could that have happened? Is it the djinn's work?" Ciri thought they had killed it, rendering previous wishes null and void. Had they instead made another wish? One that had now come back to bite them on the backside? "How are you so calm?"

Yennefer shrugged. "I assume that despite what we thought about the djinn, there was a part of us, our relationship linked to it and when we destroyed it – we destroyed what we had."

Or she did. There was no real 'we' in that scenario since Geralt didn't even know what she'd been intending when she took him out there.

"Do I have a choice? If I think about it too long I might snap and I'll be useless." Yennefer hadn't been inadequate since the day she started as a sorceress.

"I'm just impressed, is all," Ciri murmured, a little winded from the trek up to the castle, feeling lightheaded. "Not sure I'd be able to."

Yennefer smiled although it wasn't all that sincere, in fact, now that she'd mentioned it, it felt a little sad and that doubt was beginning to creep in.

The first time he'd fallen in love with her it had been a fluke, a once in a lifetime, one that had interceded upon once before and had almost been lost completely.

Would Yennefer really get a third chance?

"I'm not so sure if I can either. I'm trying."

Ciri paused again to put her arms around the sorceress, kissing her cheek before burying her face in the crook of Yen's neck. It was rare for her to be this affectionate but the drink made it easier. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to make you sad."

Yennefer hugged her close and closed her eyes, savoring her presence much like she had his while they were alone. "You didn't," she murmured against her shoulder.

_I was already sad._

"Now," she announced pulling back, sensing that she was dragging Ciri's mood—and her own—in a direction that was only going to mean another hard night for them, "let's go join the men before they get into too much trouble without us."

She'd already lost sight of them and assumed they'd all gone for mead.

"All right," Ciri said, detangling from her and leading the way into the castle, trying to tame her hair. "You know, upon our reunion in Novigrad, Dandelion told me the story of his affair with the Duchess of Toussaint. Apparently they were madly in love, but she sentenced him to death when she caught him with a baroness."

She eyed the girls from the village who he'd entertained earlier. They were lingering outside the hall, arguing with the guards to gain entrance, looking almost desperate. "I think his _love_ of women will get him hanged one day."

"Amongst other things," Yennefer commented, drifting into the hall behind her. "Care for another drink?" She was also beginning to feel hungry.

"Always." Even if it was highly irresponsible of her. Were the Wild Hunt to show up now, Ciri'd not be much of a match for them.

Still… one more drink. What could it _really_ hurt?

She caught sight of Geralt, Zoltan, and Dandelion further into the hall and descended upon the trio, gently nudging the Witcher with her shoulder. "You're back sooner than I expected. Did you miss me?" She grinned impishly. "Did you miss me so much it hurt?"

Geralt opened his mouth, but Dandelion pitched in: "_I_ missed you too much to wait around for all his contracts and wounds to be dealt with, little bird. Aren't you happy I spurred him up?"

Ciri smirked at Dandelion and swatted at the literal feather in his cap, amused by his constant need to be the center of attention. "You have my undying gratitude, poet."

"Aye, no one can ever do squat without ye," Zoltan chortled, pouring the drinks. "Yer elf, lassy, he doesn't really like it here, does he? Locked himself up in his quarters broodin'. Sourpuss. Or maybe he feels neglected by ye. Might wanna talk to him before he gets on the last Skelligan nerve."

"He's not _my_ elf," Ciri scowled. It felt important they knew that. "I think he feels we are wasting time. That we should be gathering allies or drawing up combat plans." And he wasn't entirely wrong. It wasn't just her life at stake, after all, but everyone's'. But it did feel good to take a break, to remind herself what it was she was fighting for. Her friends and family.

"He'll be fine," Geralt waved a dismissive hand and pulled Ciri onto his lap as he sat at the table, hugging her to him. "I'm not sure I'd go more than a day away from you, and that'd be too long. That's the truth."

She draped an arm over Geralt's shoulders, his embrace making her feel some kind of way. Warm for the first time after a long, long winter. "Same. I feel the same. I don't think I was made to be apart from you."

A smile claimed the Witcher's mouth, he shook his head. "Want to revisit the destiny part? Not that there's need for that when I'm actually here. I came for you."

"I made him," Dandelion put in nonchalantly and took a swig from his tankard.

"How's Priscilla, Dandy-boy?" Zoltan inquired, eyeballing the bard with a cunning smirk. "Let ye go oh so lightly?"

Dandelion's confidence faltered a tad. He shrugged. "Someone had to keep the business going."

"While ye gather new Skelligan admirers?"

"There is no way to stop people's appreciation of arts, you grumpy dwarf," Dandelion said with a haughty mien and finished his drink, then reached for the pitcher.

After grabbing two jugs of mead, Yennefer moved to join them at the table, smiling at the position Geralt and Ciri had taken. She couldn't even bring herself to feel envious that in their happiness, her own wasn't really a thought – at least not for one of them, anymore.

She set Ciri's mead down in front of her, grabbed an open chair and listened while the group spoke around her.

Ciri gave Yennefer a smile and nod of thanks when she joined the table with their mead, instantly helping herself to a large gulp while Zoltan and Dandelion bickered.

"Do you really not remember her?" she whispered in Geralt's ear, her brow pinched in sudden concern. Because this whole thing _was_ worrying.

Her eyes were full of worry bordering on fear. So that was real, then - Geralt had been missing something essential for them both.

He sighed. "I do remember how I met her for the first and second times - and now is the third time."

Ciri swallowed, gently taking his hand in hers and tracing the faded scars on his fingers with her own. "We have to fix it. We're a family – the three of us. That can't just disappear."

"I don't know what there is to fix, Ciri. You are my family, and that's been the only constant in my life. Nothing else."

Ciri nodded, understanding his plight even if she didn't like it. "You don't remember. So it makes no sense for you to try and fix anything. Because you don't know what you've lost.

"But I do. You and Yen – you're the reason I keep fighting when I think I can't anymore. When I think I've lost. I will fight for you both."

There was little to nothing to say to that. It's close to impossible to imagine what you might have had when you have no recollection of having it.

"There was a djinn and a wish involved, and as far as I understood, she was very determined to do away with it. Apparently she managed. Means she wanted it."

"She didn't want you to forget her. She wanted to know if your feelings for one another were real or fabricated by that wish you made long ago," Ciri argued softly, sneaking a glance at the sorceress before helping herself to another large mouthful of mead. "Do you remember making the wish all those years ago? Or is that gone, too?"

"I didn't make any wishes - I made him go away with the same ridiculous exorcism I used the first time. We didn't know it would work again - I thought he would kill us both. But he didn't." Geralt reached for his tankard and took a hearty swig.

Yennefer wasn't feeling very sociable, so didn't even bother with the rest of the bodies around, focused on the two and their bent heads, reading their relayed thoughts.

"No," Ciri murmured. "That's not what happened. Not unless you've both been lying to me since we first met." And that seemed unlikely. They'd never lie to her. Never.

She drained her tankard and reached out to put it back on the table, briefly meeting Yen's eyes and offering her a consoling smile.

"I would never lie to you about this. It's what I remember happened."

Yennefer lowered the tankard just enough so that Ciri could see her mouth and her smile. The sorceress had no plans to intervene on their conversation, unwilling to pretend for even a second that she was going to discuss it out in the open where everyone would be able to hear it or see it.

"I know. That's why I have to fix it." How and when Ciri'd find the time with the Wild Hunt nipping at her backside, she didn't know. But it was important. What would happen otherwise?

Yen and Geralt never spending time together again? Having to come see them separately? Being unable to mention them to each other for fear of upsetting them? They had been – were – such important and pivotal parts of each other's lives. How could that just stop?

It felt like her whole world had been turned upside down in a matter of hours.

Was this what children of separated parents felt like, she wondered? It was a rare thing for married couples to separate but Ciri had heard of it happening. This was close, right?

"How can you fix it when you don't know where to even start," Geralt reasoned. "If it's another djinn's spell, then only a djinn can lift it. And djinns are dangerous even for sorcerers. It's very hard to tame them before they kill you. We have more important matters to plan, no less dangerous."

"I shall have to make it my side-mission," Ciri said stubbornly, waylaying the route of his still half-full tankard to bring it to her lips. This Skellige mead was good!

Geralt heaved an exaggerated sigh, eyeing her with a mock reprimanding stare. "You've always been an unruly kid."

"I take that as a compliment," Ciri grinned, allowing him his tankard back. "Though I am a "kid" no longer."

"As soon as you make a grown-up decision, I'll agree," he grinned and held the tankard out to Zoltan who busied himself refilling.

"Why so quiet, Yennefer?" Dandelion asked across the table while the dwarf poured him another drink. "Is Skellige weather troubling you as much as it does me? I mean, how could any sane person live in this place - beats me. Can't imagine such passion in torturing oneself. To warmth and sun and summer that never reach these lands but caress our skin so often where we live!" He raised the tankard in salute and drank.

Yennefer lowered the tankard from her lips and speared Danelion with a considerate look. "I faced a pretty heavy foe yesterday and I suppose I'm still recovering. Also, it's like you said, the cold tends to take it out of you." Nor was she much in the mood for festivities, not like who'd well past the point already and they going to go strong for a while yet. "Although sometimes, a little cold can go a long way to warm a heart." A reference she'd glanced at Geralt with before raising her mug once more and joining in Dandelion's toast.

Ciri playfully smacked Geralt's shoulder before giving her attention to a semi-whining Dandelion again. With her own tankard empty, she allowed Geralt to toast for them both, though she didn't particularly mind the snow. It brought with it some fond childhood memories.

With Yennefer's addition to the toast, she suddenly felt very out of place. Like she was literally stuck between two lovers about to get intimate.

She cleared her throat and slipped off Geralt's lap. "I should go check on Avallac'h."

"He's going to demand more training, mind you," Geralt warned and gave a you-decide shrug.

"I doubt he'll do that – not in her state." Yennefer flashed Ciri a smile to let her know it'd be fine, and then carefully finished what remained of the mead.

"I've been told I'm an unruly child," Ciri gave an impish grin, swayed lightly on her feet, and trotted off in the direction she'd seen Avallac'h been escorted the day before.

* * *

Ciri didn't knock on his door. He'd never bothered with such formalities with her before, so why should she with him? She found the elf standing near the window, hands clasped behind his back, gaze on the village below. His stance was rigid, but that didn't mean much. That was just Avallac'h. "You not enjoying the festivities?"

It was a foolish question. If what Zoltan had told her was true, the elf hadn't set foot outside the door since they got here.

"It is frivolous and unimportant," he replied coolly, turning to face her as she stepped further into the room.

"It's unimportant to find joy between battles?" Ciri asked, one brow raised. "To live? What do we fight for then, if not for life?"

Avallac'h watched her, his eyes narrowing, scrutinizing. "You are drunk," he pointed out.

"You're… old."

"So unlike Lara," he sighed regretfully and turned away from her again. "So quarrelsome. So stubborn."

Ciri felt a touch of hurt at that, though she didn't know why. It's not as if she'd ever known her ancestor. "Really? Because back in Tir ná Lia I was told Lara was supposed to marry you, and instead fell in love with a human. He didn't steal her away like you all once tried to make me believe. She chose him. Despite the wishes of her entire race. Sounds… quarrelsome. Sounds stubborn."

She could see him tense in the reflection of the window and knew she'd struck a nerve. It didn't feel as good as she'd hoped.

He was silent for a long moment and when he spoke again it was as if he pretended part of their conversation hadn't happened. "I aim to talk to the druid who lives here. Since Yennefer and Triss Merigold have yet to find their fellow sorceresses, I suppose I shall have to start gathering our allies myself."

"No time to lose, eh?"

"None, and you know that better than anyone. Go sober up, Zireael. You are no use to anyone like this."

She narrowed her eyes at the elf's back, ire spiking again. But she didn't argue. What was the use? She simply headed for the door and left him with a few parting words. "Mousesack is at the feast. See you there."

* * *

Geralt turned to regard Yennefer pensively, sipping his mead. "What is it you believe Avallac'h wants with her truly?"

"Elves are a shady folk," Zoltan piped in uninvited and sat down with his full tankard. "They say one thing, think the second, then do from third to fifth depending on their moods or weather. They rarely show any favor for any other kin, especially humans. It's clear all he sees in our lassy is her talents. He sees use in them for himself. No doubt about it. He helps her now and then demands rewards."

"Who's to guarantee he won't be just another what's-his-name-the-hunt-prince," Dandelion agreed. "He might want all your help to eliminate this commander to claim her for himself." He shrugged and drank.

"Not that I'll let it slide," Geralt said. "Even wraiths find their end on my sword, and he's a living-bleeding creature. He will not get away with it if that's his plan."

Yennefer thought that it could go one of two ways. Either he was so infatuated with her that he'd hoped that by being her rescuer he'd eventually attempt to wed her, or he wanted her favor for something more sinister. She listened to Zoltan's rebuttal – she understood where he was coming from. Avallac'h wasn't forthcoming about who he was and there was only so much digging that had served. And also Ciri appeared to be very protective of him which made it harder to press the issue.

"Nor I," Yennefer chimed at Geralt's declaration, adding her own threat when he was finished. "And when Geralt's had his turn, I'll bring him back and we'll start the procedure all over again. No one with ill intentions are going to get their hands on her."

What Zoltan had said though seemed to brew, to feaster in her head like a warning bell. Signs came to you for a reason. What if this was one of them?

"What do you know about Avallac'h, Geralt?"

So much of their story had changed, perhaps he'd been gifted a different perspective in this, too, especially since he hardly remembered them saving her together or breaking the curse that bound the elf.

"Only what he told me, which isn't enough by a long shot. He's indeed after his own goals and he lets no one know about them until the time comes. He's training Ciri fanatically to help her control her powers, but it also feels he wants to get a better control over her for whatever purpose he keeps to himself."

"Aye," Zoltan nodded. "He needs to be watched at all times when he's with the girl."

"Or perhaps she doesn't need him all that much," Dandelion said and shrugged, directing his eyes to the raven-haired sorceress. "What can he possibly provide her with that Yennefer is incapable of? What? His elfish charms?"

"Whatever there is about that charm - no one but Ciri has a say," Geralt said with a wince of displeasure and finished his mug.

"Geralt's right," Yennefer said. "We're free to worry and air our concerns, but she's matured a lot since she's been gone and she's been making her own decisions. It wouldn't be fair of us to push our fears onto her and question his motives without evidence."

Didn't mean they couldn't go out of their way to find any or keep a closer eye on him. For now, though, she trusted him, didn't think he'd steal her away into the shadows and flee.

She'd never let him.

At least she hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Yennefer stood slowly, swept a hand over the table to claim her mead and casually excused herself as she went in search of more to drink and something to eat.

Ciri ran into Crach on her way back to the main hall and received one of his large hands in a friendly pat to her back that nearly sent her face-first into the table. It seemed the giant man had taken part in a fair deal of celebration himself, which wasn't a surprise. His daughter had been crowned Queen, after all.

She left him to drink and laugh with his son, Hjalmar, and friends, and sought out her own, cautiously trailing Yennefer with her gaze as she veered away and towards the tables holding food and drink.

Ciri took a seat between Geralt and Dandelion, opposite Zoltan, and felt the latter two's eyes on her. As if they had recently mentioned her name and only fallen silent because she had come. "What?"

"How'd it go with the elf?" Zoltan asked, not bothering with any extra courtesies. "Ye talked? He's mad at us or something?"

Dandelion and Geralt drank quietly, glancing between them.

"At you?" She smiled, a little amused. "No. Avallac'h tends to reserve his anger and annoyance for me. Apparently I know just which buttons to push. But he's not fond of our parties. Not dignified enough for an elf, I think."

She reached for the nearest tankards to examine their content, whether there was any at all, and found them to still be watching her. She hesitated. "You distrust him?"

Dandelion and the Witcher busied themselves with refilling their tankards, but Zoltan had no reservations.

"Of course, Lassy! It's not just that he's an elf - though it plays a huge part in how he is - but also a sorcerer, and that combination means he never lets ye in on all his plans or morals. Ye need to be careful, very careful with him, is all I'm sayin'. No matter how much ye've grown, yer still our precious little lassy. We'll always worry and protect ye."

Ciri pushed her tankard Geralt's way for a refill, but her eyes remained on Zoltan. "Avallac'h and I have history. And not a good one. Had this been five years ago I would never have let him near me. But time has passed and priorities have shifted. Avallac'h is cunning and manipulative but I trust him with my life. And yours. And I won't have any of you move against him. Do you understand? Doubt his motives all you want amongst yourselves, but don't try to push him away. I need him."

Neither Geralt, nor Dandelion found it immediately necessary to argue, though the glances they exchanged said they were wary of how trusting Ciri appeared.

"It's not about any moves against anyone, Ciri," Zoltan said, leaning closer to the table confidingly. "And I have no doubts he's ready to protect yer life - he needs ye for many things, I'm sure. He's not into losing such powerful project. What I doubt is his investment into anyone else's wellbeing. Not that it's a problem for Geralt or me who can protect ourselves. But still, lassy, keep in mind he'll fool ye if it benefits his cause. What his cause is - ye don't know."

"What is this history, if you don't mind us prying?" asked Dandelion, unable to rule himself down. "What makes you so sure of him and your need in him?"

The touch of tension at the table hadn't been lost on Yennefer when she returned, and after a brief scan of everyone's inner thoughts, it wasn't hard to know what had been said. She carefully set her plate down, sat down and began to eat, not feeling it necessary to interject while Ciri was being lectured by her friends or advised about her safety. Besides, Yennefer was curious, too, about this so called history that they had as not much had been shared.

Ciri did know his cause. They were the ones left out. And a part of her felt sorry for that. But it was necessary. If they were told… they'd fight tooth and nail to hold her back. Because they loved her.

She chose not to reply to Zoltan then and instead fixed Dandelion with her attention. His question was not a pleasant one and she regretted having even brought it up. It wasn't simply that the story still made her feel humiliated at times, but that, because they were already so wary of Avallac'h – a most important ally – they'd practically hate him once they _knew_.

"I'm not sure it would be wise of me to tell," she admitted, regarding Geralt from under her lashes even if he had not been the one to ask.

"So it's wise to keep us in the dark, you mean?" he said, no longer able to just keep his mouth shut. There were limits. "We have our most important battle ahead and we head into it half-blind because we let someone we don't know, nor trust, way too close to all of us solely because you believe you need him."

"What is it that you need him so much for?" Dandelion asked, squinting. "You have one of the best sorceresses at your disposal, but you pick a shady elf with hidden agenda over the person who helped raise you. I'm sorry, Ciri, but I find it a bit strange, as if he charmed you out of your common sense. Or maybe he ensured that bond otherwise."

Geralt studied her closely as his friend spoke, with more dismay noticing something in her that she didn't want him to know. That not just hurt, but worried him beyond measure.

The Witcher set his jaw to refrain from saying anything else she obviously thought wasn't his place to judge, and focused his eyes on his tankard, mulling things over.

"Let her breathe," Yennefer chided, although she understood where everyone was coming from with their concern and that they couldn't go in blindly into their battle.

It wasn't fair.

However, if that was what Ciri wanted from her – the sorceress was sure she would. Yennefer had to save her, hadn't she? Only she didn't want to push Ciri away or make anyone else drive her into a corner where she got defensive and clammed up. "Do you trust him, Ciri? With your life? With ours?"

"I already said I did," she told Yennefer, trying to stay calm. Though that plan rapidly went out the window.

She met Geralt's gaze, saw the ire and hurt there and it ignited her own, and yet it was Dandelion's queries she answered first. She could practically feel her eyes flash with the same fury she'd found impossible to control as a child. "Pick? Am I to choose then? Between the people that matter to me? I didn't know that was an expectation you all had of me. You speak of him as if he has already betrayed you. As if he has brought you harm. And yet the only person at this table who has right to that claim is me, and if I can manage to push old resentment aside for the greater good, then the rest of you should as well.

"How is he keeping you in the dark? How am I? You really think I would keep secrets that are a threat to your life?" It was Geralt she watched now and her annoyance immediately died down, replaced by disbelief and pain. "It's not just him you don't trust; it's _me_."

It was a realization that threatened to knock the wind out of her. Ciri promptly stood and headed for the exit, feeling as if the castle walls were closing in on her.

The hurt in her eyes directed at him with the open accusation stabbed Geralt deeper than any sword could. He felt every inch of her broken trust blade cracking inside his heart pouring dead cold around it.

"It was a bad idea to bombard her with all our doubts from all three sides in one go, especially when she's tipsy and worried about the whole ordeal," he said, shaking his head, and set the tankard on the table, readying to go.

"Shame about how she exploded, aye," the dwarf said, rubbing his neck and looking apologetic. "But she had to hear it from us - not just ye. So she wouldn't think it's yer jealousy or something as stupid, Geralt. She has to let herself think about it."

"She will cool off, she always does," Dandelion added. "Maybe she will even give it a bit of thought on her own. She ought to. She's a very smart girl. She wouldn't have survived without it. You taught her well." He attempted a meek smile of encouragement that dimmed significantly when his eyes went to Yennefer. "Although, I imagine, someone else could've said something." He shrugged and drank.

"I'll go talk to her," Geralt said getting up.

Ciri's outpouring was enough to break Yennefer's heart, especially the look Ciri'd directed at Geralt, as if of all of them she expected better from him. When she stood and headed for the exit, the sorceress prepared to get to her feet as well, to follow Ciri in hopes of catching up.

Matching Geralt's intention as it appeared they both had a similar idea.

Another time Yennefer might have let him talk her down alone, but with what he didn't remember and everything in between that had separated them, who knew how it may have warped for him.

"_We'll_ talk to her," she said with determination, leaving little room for him to attempt to argue as she walked away from the table, eyes scanning the throne of people in search their ashen-haired drunken beauty.

When they were almost at the door leading out into the inner yard, the Witcher caught Yennefer by the arm.

"Given how she felt we all cornered her, I think it's best I try alone."

Yennefer appreciated his sentimentality and his concern, but she also knew that it wasn't going to go down that way, that with their views so vastly different, that as much as Ciri needed her, so did he. "I won't get in your way."

But he wasn't going alone, and she made that known by carefully freeing up her elbow and continuing on her way in search of Ciri.

Geralt frowned, proceeding outside. "Don't trust me with her?"

Yennefer speared him with a look that said he was being ridiculous. "Of course I do, but even the great Witcher of Rivia needs a little back up when it comes to a temperamental adolescent."

"I've been doing just fine all the years we had. Let me do this."

That stung, especially because those years no longer involved her, automatically discounting her opinion on the matter as if Yennefer had been criticizing him.

She drew to a stop, the now familiar pang of sadness sweeping in like an old friend with its cold steel.

"If you need me I'll be at the inn."

With that, she cut away and headed for the mass of people gathered on the stairs leading toward the inn.

Geralt felt a tug somewhere in his chest at how she looked at him. He couldn't explain it, but followed an instinct before his reasonable mind stopped him and caught her arm again.

"I didn't mean to... exclude you. Forgive me. I just... I need it to work and more than one could drive her further into defiance. Well, if you've been as involved in her life, you gotta know it."

Yennefer was already blinking tears from her eyes, stiffening as his hand found her arm a second time, almost too ashamed by her own erratic emotions to meet his gaze.

But she did, eventually, touched by the fact that he'd apologized.

She seared the space between them and pressed a kiss to his lips, unconcerned that they were out in public and that many people might have seen and would carry on with their next bout of stories.

Her kiss, once again, caught him off-guard, but somehow his arm wrapped habitually around her waist as she leaned in, as if executed many times over. The whole theory of not knowing her shivered a tad while her lips made him lose any thought for the long moment it continued. When she drew away, he felt more intoxicated than all the Skelligan mead had managed to achieve.

After a brief moment, she pulled back, gifted him a smile to let him know she was fine with what he felt he needed to do and that his apology had been accepted. "You know where I'll be."

She freed up her elbow once more, offering him an encouraging smile as she left and then steadily continued on her way, this time feeling less mangled and broken than she had the first time.

He smiled subtly and gave her a thankful nod, watched her go as his mind span around the mystery of Yennefer of Vengerberg like an eagle soaring over a field with potential prey that has to be stalked. When she was up the stairs and gone, he went in search of Ciri.

He could have used his senses, but somehow deep down he felt where she went, as if there was some special magical scent trail in the air leading him to where she was.

* * *

She chose a cliff over the spot where the harbor met the ocean. She sat on the edge, legs dangling, and watched the sun crawl its way to the horizon coloring the water orange.

Ciri wasn't sure why she'd chosen the cliffs. Not at first. Not until it dawned on her this was where she'd sat as a child, watching the other children play down below. Before she became accepted, one of them. When she still felt like an outsider.

The wind was harsh and unforgiving, making her eyes water. At least, she told herself, that was the reason for the sudden moisture.

Geralt found her easily, of course. She'd half expected it. And it was comforting to know he still could. That all their years apart had not changed that.

"Forgive me, Ciri," Geralt began in a quiet voice, approaching her. "I meant to say nothing, but it didn't go as planned. Not because I don't trust you – that could never happen – but because I can't fully rely on this man the same way you do. Mostly because we know close to nothing about anything you two share in that common history you mentioned." He settled on the stones, legs crossed, and looked at the ship sitting in the harbor. "I sense something unpleasant about him, but I'm no sorcerer and can't read thoughts. It does leave me in the dark with all my doubts and suspicions and hunches. It doesn't feel good in this place I'm in right now.

"I've never lied to you. Thus I had to say it. What I didn't have to do is hurt you in the process. I'd die to take it back."

"I hurt myself," Ciri told him, for she had calmed down and now felt quite silly for her earlier outburst. She wanted so badly to be able to partake in an argument without exploding, like Yennefer, or Geralt himself. That had yet to happen in her life. "There is nothing to forgive. You are right to be wary. I probably would be, too, in your boots. But it's not like Dandelion says; I have not chosen him over you or Yennefer. I never would. You are not even in the same category.

"But I do care about Avallac'h," she added quietly, gaze on her hands in her lap. "Not like you may think. He has not 'charmed' me. He was never that charming. Eredin was the one with that trait."

She swallowed, silent a while to collect her thoughts before continuing. "Avallac'h and I have travelled together for the better part of two years now. We've encountered so many perils, so many challenges, visited so many worlds, and seen things I would never have imagined in my wildest fantasies. And never once has he let me down. All he has done is keep me safe. Risking his life to do so.

"And because I couldn't find you or Yennefer, no matter how hard I tried, he made me feel… less alone. Like I wasn't facing The Hunt on my own. Does that make sense to you?"

Geralt nodded. "It does."

He didn't think the elf was doing it out of the goodness of his heart, though.

The Witcher turned to Ciri, considering her. "How did you two meet?"

"It's a long story," Ciri said, not to be dismissive but simply to warn him. And she doubted he would like any of it. She didn't, either, to be honest. "It was after I had to flee Thanedd Island where Yennefer had brought me to escape the oncoming war."

Ciri paused again, because of course, he would not remember. "After my training at Kaer Morhen, when Triss was unable to help me with my powers, you asked Yennefer to train me and brought me to Temple of Melitele to meet her there."

She eyed him to see if there was any recollection of the memory. Perhaps he only remembered bringing her there to learn magic, but the part about Yennefer had slipped from his mind. "Anyway, to escape Thanedd Island when the temple was attacked, I stepped through a portal. And I ended up in a world of trouble after that. Figuratively speaking. Another long story. Short version being, I became a wanted woman. Well, girl, I suppose. The Emperor was searching for me, though I did not know his true identity at the time. I didn't know he was my father. But he was not the only one. There were others, people who wanted me for crimes I had committed, and those who wanted me for my blood.

"And so I was pursued by bounty hunters and mercenaries. Soldiers, too."

Ciri didn't want to tell him details about the one who caught her, though she suspected he already knew some. The memory of that man still brought fear to her heart, making her hands tremble right here and now, even though she knew he was dead and gone.

"In my mission to escape them, I entered a portal with no idea of where it would take me. I ended up in the world of the Aen Elle. And Avallac'h was there. Waiting for me."

It was hard to refrain from raining questions down on her, but Geralt had to ask the most important ones. The rest she could tell them later.

"Waiting for you?" he repeated. "He knew you'd come? Or he was one of those searching?"

"I think he knew. He might have seen me coming in a vision. Because when he first saw me, he said: 'What took you so long? What kept you?'"

She paused, uncertain whether some of the details were important for Geralt to know. Perhaps not, but they did regard their enemy.

"When I was chased by the bounty hunters, I sought out a tower. A tower mentioned only in legends called Tor Zireael. The Tower of The Swallow. I'd seen a similar tower in Thanedd, Tor Lara, and had used its portal to escape before. I believed the two were connected, that if I managed to activate the portal I would be able to travel from Tor Zireael to Tor Lara, where I would be safe. At least for a while.

"But one particular bounty hunter was close on my heels in the end." She still remembered the fury on Bonhart's face as he neared, how he had called out to her: 'I told you that you were mine! That I'll do what I want with you! That no one will stop me from doing it! Not people, not gods, nor devils, nor demons. Or enchanted towers! You're mine, witcher girl!'

Ciri inhaled sharply, because the memory still had the power to fill her with dread. "I knew I'd be dead, or worse, if he caught me. For the truth is, Geralt, even if it brings me great shame to admit it – he was stronger than me. A better fighter. Better than any human should be. And I was truly frightened then, because where the tower was supposed to be, there was just empty space.

"But then I heard them. Horses in a gallop coming our way. It was the Wild Hunt. I don't know what they did to him, but they at least stalled Bonhart's progress. And the tower emerged as they did and I stepped inside. Eredin saved me from him. And don't worry, I know perfectly well it was not out of the kindness of his heart. For his heart has no such quality."

"I understand Eredin whose motivation is purely selfish," Geralt said. "What about Avallac'h? Why is he so dedicated to save you if it's not about personal feelings?"

"When we first met his motivation was the same as Eredin's. When I stepped through the portal I saw the most horrible visions. And I knew they were true. They were of you. And of Yennefer. Both in danger. Both in pain. And I knew I had to find you immediately.

"But as I said, the portal did not take me where I had expected it to. It took me to the world of the Aen Elle. I tried to make the portal open again. It would not.

"I had my horse, Kelpie, with me and we tried to escape. To run away from Avallac'h and the she-elves at the tower. But no matter how far we ran, I always ended back up there. It was a strange kind of magic. No matter what I did, I could not escape.

"We spent eight days at that tower, me trying to escape, the elves waiting for me to finish. And when I finally did, Avallac'h took me to the capital. Tir ná Lia. And then, he told me what I had to do to earn my freedom. He wanted me to produce an heir with their king, Auberon. My great, great-something-or-other grandfather.

"You see, Auberon once had a daughter named Lara. She was very powerful and a carrier of the Elder Blood, like me. The Aen Elle had worked for centuries to breed that bloodline to perfection, and she was to marry another powerful Aen Elle, one who would unlock the power of the Elder Blood. Avallac'h.

"Together they were meant to produce a child capable of opening the Gates of The Worlds. A portal the elves had once had access to, but had lost over time. They wanted to travel freely between the worlds, to conquer and enslave, and also to move the entire population of Aen Elle to a different world where they would be safe from The White Frost.

"But Lara fell in love with a human mage, and defying the wishes of her people, she married him and had his child. My ancestor. The elves never truly recovered from that loss. They felt as though the human had stolen the Elder Blood from them. And it was my duty to pay the debt owed. By giving them a child.

"That no longer seems to be Avallac'h's priorities. Even back in Tir ná Lia I could tell he had been in love with Lara, and in his own strange way he was trying to keep me safe. To honor her, I think. He was never cruel, never laid a hand on me."

Well, except that one time, but Ciri had purposely provoked him then. To his breaking limits.

"I don't think he loves me like he did Lara. But I know he sees something of her in me and he wants to keep me safe."

She paused again, silent for a long while. "I'm no fool, you know. Not a stupid little girl infatuated by the mighty elf. I cannot say for certain Avallac'h priorities won't shift once we defeat Eredin and his riders. But that will be then. This is now. And for now, we are on the same team."

Disgust, anger and dismay mixed up into an explosive need to run both his swords through the bastard. It took all of Geralt to squelch it.

He wished Yennefer could hear this story. Somehow, he knew she would be as mad, and it made him feel slightly better to not be alone in it. He didn't know how deep her affection for Ciri ran, but deep down he trusted it could be parentally profound.

"You've always been far from a fool, Ciri," the Witcher said watching the sun creep lower toward the waterline of the horizon. "What it looks like now is a tug of war between Avallac'h and Eredin for the ultimate prize which is what you can give them. I trust he wants you alive. But I don't trust the good intentions. He might have proven you many times he would protect you. But he hasn't proven to me once that he would let you be free when it's all done. And I don't believe it's what he plans for you."

Though he hid it admirably, Ciri could sense his anger. And the revulsion. She wondered how he'd feel about her and the decision she had made back then. Would he be disappointed?

"If he does have hidden and nefarious plans for me once the battle ends, you have my full support in running him through with your sword," she said softly, resting her head on his shoulder. "But until any such evidence appears…"

Silent again. She watched the few fishing boats out in the bay, thoughtful.

"I agreed to their terms, you know? I tried to give Eredin and Avallac'h what they wanted."

Geralt swallowed and pulled her to him possessively in a hug. "Tried..?"

"Those visions," she said, closing her eyes as his arms wrapped around her. "You were in danger. Suffering. Dying. I had to find my way back to you. And the only way to do that was to co-operate. Time worked differently there. Though nine or more months would have passed there, if done correctly, they could ensure I got back to our world mere moments after I had left in the first place. I refused at first, of course, but the more time passed, the more desperate I became.

"So I agreed. I would fulfill my end of the deal, if they stuck to theirs. Every night, they bathed me, fixed my hair, makeup, and put me in the most beautiful clothes. With exquisite undergarments. Like those Yennefer has, you know?"

Or, she supposed, he didn't. Not anymore.

"And I would go to Auberon's chambers. He was never in a hurry. Elves have all the time in the world. Many nights we would talk or play chess or study books. He was handsome. Very much so. Like Eredin, himself.

"He had my hair…" A detail she hadn't truly paid much attention to before but occurred to her now. "And every night, Auberon would tell me to get undressed. Which I did. He would…"

She fell silent, not from any kind of trauma but sheer embarrassment. Geralt was the closest thing she had ever had to a father, after all. It must be torment for him to hear of this. Her cheeks flushed pink and she pulled away a little, straightening up.

"The point is, Auberon was never able to… um… rise to the occasion." She decided not to meet Geralt's eyes. "At first I assumed it was because my looks displeased him."

She touched her face, the scar that marred her cheek and had looked even worse back then.

"Or that perhaps it was my lack of experience in that area. But eventually, I understood. It had nothing to do with my looks. And everything to with what I am. Human. He was disgusted by the idea.

"Eredin once told me that looking at me and seeing the resemblance to Lara, was like finding a nugget of gold in a compost heap. Auberon said that was too modest a comparison. They hated humans with such a passion. We were nothing to them.

"Of course, everyone in Tir ná Lia soon knew of the King's problems. The walls had eyes and ears, always. One day, Eredin challenged me to a race. On horseback. No one had ever beaten him before but I did. My horse was better. And I was unafraid. He took me to a cottage by the river and for a short while I suspected he wanted to try what the King could not do."

The images of Ciri, a little girl of ten years lost in the dryad forest flashed in Geralt's mind; Ciri, the little girl pursuing her destiny running into his arms calling his name with the joy Geralt had never heard in anyone's voice producing his name before in his entire long life.

It was even harder to listen to her story and remain cool-headed, but he had to do the impossible for her. To her in the whole world, he owed as much, and more.

The Witcher unlocked his jaw from its tight set that made the muscles in his cheeks bulge, and asked: "What happened then?"

Part of Ciri hadn't even minded the thought of Eredin. She was excited at the prospect. She was intrigued by him, and despite his best efforts not to be, he was intrigued by her as well. Though obviously for other reasons.

"But that was not what happened. He offered me a small flask with a green liquid. It was an aphrodisiac, he told me, and I should give it to the King. I was young, yes, but I knew perfectly well when someone was trying to use me. So I told him no. I would not give up my freedom by potentially assassinating the King. He didn't mind. We ate dinner together, and he let it go.

"A few days later I was out riding Kelpie when suddenly the mare took off in a direction I had never gone before. I tried to stop her but she would not yield. I expected a barrier to come eventually, for it always did, keeping me prisoner there. Not this time. Instead, I found myself in a stone circle, surrounded by unicorns.

"Did you know the Aen Elle and unicorns are enemies? They weren't always but are now. The unicorns offered me a way home, for they did not want the Aen Elle to gain access to the Gates of The Worlds again. I took it after some consideration, waiting at the castle for the right time to come.

"I decided to see the King one last time. I found him in his chambers, slumped in a chair, Eredin's flask hanging from his hand… He was dying. At first he mistook me for Lara. Called me his daughter and asked me to come to him. Before long he realized who I was. He confessed to me how frightened he was. He asked me to stay with him. I did. I held his hand until he was gone.

"And then I ran. I battled Eredin on the way, for he had seen me leave and was not willing to let me go. But I managed to wound him with my sword and reunite with one of the unicorns. With him, I managed to tap into my power, and we fled to another world. And then another. And another. Endless worlds. Because I did not know the way back to ours. It took time.

"I knew the Wild Hunt was chasing me, of course, but I didn't know Avallac'h was looking, too. Took him years to find me."

Geralt wasn't surprised in the least by Eredin's attempt to use someone else's hand in his gruesome task.

But even that didn't paint him any worse than Avallac'h with his trying to use Ciri for a breeding mare. That the Witcher could never forgive. He killed humans for lesser crimes against their own kin.

He sighed a long one, trying to get all the anger and helpless rage out, for they were burning him like poison inside, and then took Ciri's chin in his hand making her look at him.

"None of what happened to you is your fault or any reason to be ashamed, Ciri, do you understand me? It is all fully and undeniably on them and their foul desires for power no matter the cost. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I couldn't be prouder of you and your strength. Your grandmother would be very proud."

Ciri smiled a little, gently wrapping her fingers around Geralt's wrist. "I'm not ashamed of what I did to try and free myself."

She was ashamed of how good _it_ had felt and how she, in part, had wanted it. How she'd briefly fantasized of Eredin that day of the race. How she had found him attractive. How she'd fallen asleep in the arms of the King. She should have been stronger. Perhaps, had she been older, had it been now, she would have been.

"It doesn't hurt me anymore, what happened in Tir ná Lia. Not anymore," she assured Geralt, reaching up to stroke his cheek the way she had often done as a girl, expecting to feel rough stubble beneath her fingertips. There had been plenty of times during their travels together where he had not had the opportunity to shave for a few days. And she knew it had bothered him. Something she'd taken delight in teasing him about.

But now, his skin was smooth. "I really did miss you, Geralt."

The Witcher smiled, brushing a thumb over her chin, taking in the sparkly green of her eyes and their comfort. "Never since that day we met in that merchant's yard have I felt truly whole without you by my side. I miss you all the time."

"Then let us try to not part ways so quickly this time, hmm?" Ciri leaned into him, the cold of Skellige finally getting to her. She hadn't brought any winter clothing. "Where is Yennefer?" she asked suddenly as if only just noticing she had not come with him. "She didn't leave. Did she?"

"She's at the inn, no doubt waiting to talk to you. She wanted to come here but then allowed me to come alone. I didn't want to make you feel like we were trying to pressure you into something two on one. It was and never would be our intention."

Ciri felt a sense of relief at that and squeezed his arm in thanks. He knew her well. Sometimes she wondered if he was able to feel what she did. "I think we should go back to Novigrad. Avallac'h does, too. We need more allies for the upcoming battles. Especially sorceresses."

She stood and extended a hand in offer to help him up as well.

"I don't trust the Lodge. But sadly, they are needed."

"Anyone who threatens you will have to step over my dead body first," Geralt said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they started toward the village and the inn. "And it's not as easy as it seems. And then there's Zoltan and Yennefer - or so you tell me. What I know for sure is that Yennefer never loses her fights."

"No, she never does," Ciri said, smiling proudly at that. "I'm still baffled by the Djinn's magic and its effects on your memory. It scares me."

She fell silent as they passed a few tipsy villagers. She seemed to have sobered up quite a bit during the talk on the mountain.

"I've heard rumors Emhyr is looking for me. Always looking. Is there any truth to that rumor?"

"He is," the Witcher confirmed. "His spies helped in finding you and he demanded I brought you to him. I told him you would decide yourself, but I don't think he believes I can disobey."

Ciri chewed her bottom lip, giving him a concerned look. "Can you?"

"In a heartbeat. Everything will be the way you choose, Ciri. I swear it to you."

Ciri felt touched at that. More than she would ever be able to express.

She hugged his waist as they walked, unmindful of all the watching eyes surrounding them. That was normal. People always stared at the white– and ashen–haired, scarred freaks. "What do you think he wants?"

"He claims he wants the best for you - which he believes is his throne. But I can sense something else beneath it. I don't know what it is. I can't read his thoughts. I can only smell things like the mutant with his instincts that I am."

Ciri winced. Just the thought of taking on the responsibility of something as important as her father's throne made her shoulders stiffen and ache from tension. "Everyone always wants something." She laughed without humor and briefly buried her face against Geralt's jerkin, letting him usher her into the inn.

"Burden of being special," he murmured, guiding her along the wall of the inn's hall to their room. He opened the door and let her go in. "I'll give you two time to talk while I see what Zoltan and Dandelion are doing."

Ciri paused in the doorway, whispering, "You sure? You're not avoiding her, are you?"

"No. I merely think she would like a moment I robbed her of before."

He didn't know Yennefer closely to want to avoid or not. He didn't really know how to behave around her.

"Alright," Ciri said, briefly squeezing his arm with a parting smile before turning to head into the room. "Yen?"

Yennefer had sensed them on the other side of the door before Ciri had even opened it and stepped inside. Unlike the day before when the sorceress had been sulking in the bathtub, this time she was on the bed, propped by pillows, staring at the ceiling as if it held all the answers. "You all right?"

"Yes. I am sorry for the scene," Ciri said honestly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed where she lay. "I just… needed some air."

Yennefer rolled onto her side, fixing the girl with a thoughtful look, one that delved deeper to probe at her mind gently. "I understand. I also get that Avallac'h has been there for you and that you two have shared more than we could ever know. Two years is a long time to be trapped with someone. Did you speak to Geralt?"

"I did. I spoke, he listened, for the most part." Ciri laughed lightly, then sobered. "And now… I think he hates Avallac'h even more than before. Which is inconvenient. But I also get the feeling he's not going to attempt to murder the elf first chance he gets, so… there's that."

"What'd you tell him to inspire that kind of… change?" As far as Yennefer had been able to tell he'd been distrusting, not murderous or wishing the elf any kind of harm. "Did he do something to you?" She hated herself for not picking up on it before and believing that perhaps the stiff elf harbored some kind of affection for her. She shifted into an upright position so she could sit beside Ciri.

Ciri inhaled deeply, not really wishing to tell the whole story once more so shortly after the first time. But Yen deserved to know. She'd opened up to Geralt and he hadn't let her down. Yennefer wouldn't, either.

So, after she pulled her legs up onto the bed and rested her hands in her lap, Ciri told Yennefer exactly what she had told the Witcher, not pausing this time to allow for questions. They would have to come when she finished.

When she did, she felt a strange kind of exhaustion. One that had nothing to do with her body and everything to do with her mind.

Yennefer listened, eventually taking a hold of her hand, squeezing gently in support as Ciri regaled the details, feeling a rush of nausea and anger sweep through her at their treatment of who Ciri had once been and their attempts to use her womb as if they had some right to it.

If Avallac'h had come into this room at this instant, Yennefer would have gutted him like a stinky fish and sent him back to wherever he'd come from to make sure he didn't harbor such ideas again.

Or better: put him back in that deformed booger-eating cursed monstrosity she had unwrapped him from.

"I always believed you were strong, but you're far powerful than I could ever have imagined – and it has nothing to do with your blood. To have been through that and still found your way back."

Yennefer used her free hand and swept it over the top of Ciri's head, playing with that one rebellious strand that perpetual sprung free of her hair tie, tucking it behind her ear.

"It's admirable."

The sorceress eased off the edge of the mattress, yanked at the covers and then gave Ciri a little nudge, intending to help her remove the boots so she could relax against the covers. It seemed the mead and her emotionally charged conversations had taken their toll.

"You should sleep."

Like with Geralt, Ciri could tell she was angry. Experiencing a range of emotions, actually. And, like with Geralt, Ciri was glad she did not explode or instantly demand for the girl to cease all contact with the elf. Ciri knew they probably wanted to. But they hadn't.

She scooted further up the bed and allowed Yen to remove her boots. Some sleep sounded good right about now. Though the sorceress's words had brought a smile to her face, one without warmth or humor, and as Ciri lay down to rest her head on the pillow, she spoke. "The elves weren't so bad. Not compared to what came before."

It was with the bounty hunter Bonhart she had truly experienced hell. And his memory continued to bring strong feelings of shame and fear. Even grief. The Aen Elle were nothing… They'd been soft, fluffy kittens compared to him.

Ciri absentmindedly traced the scar on her cheek with her fingertips, closed her eyes, and drifted off.

_Bonhart_. Yennefer cringed at the feelings Ciri shared with her before falling asleep, already nearing unconsciousness before Yennefer managed to free her other foot of the boot.

She watched the girl's features, freed the blankets from beneath her and then carefully brought them up over her, tucking her in like she used to do at times when Ciri was a child.

For a time she sat watching Ciri sleep, hopeful that it was peaceful and that come morning, everything that she'd shared with them would have lifted slightly and allowed her a bit of peace.

Yennefer hadn't asked about Geralt.

Would he be coming back tonight? Was he going to hole away somewhere else with Dandelion? What if he returned to the festivities and, in the wake of everything, decided to wrap himself up with someone else entirely – another woman?

Yennefer winced at the thought and the initial hurt that sprung to mind.

What if Triss were to appear now? There were so many what-ifs, potential scenarios on where things could go when he wasn't in his right frame of mind, that she didn't know what to do.

Yennefer guessed she needed to let fate play itself out for tonight.

If he didn't remember her, then he hardly remembered her room and the fact that he'd stayed here, or that even Ciri did.

The sorceress scrubbed a hand through her hair, walked over to the other side of the bed and lay down beside Ciri, hardly tired as she studied her adopted daughter's face, prepared to carefully stroke away any worry should it arise in her dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt found Zoltan and Dandelion where he left them - Crach was strolling away on unsteady feet. Must have had a few rounds of Gwent and drinks with the fellows.

"Hey, Geralt," Zoltan greeted. "How's the lass?"

"I'm sorry, Geralt," Dandelion added. "We wanted all the best for her but failed to explain."

"She's fine," he said, sitting down as Zoltan pushed a filled tankard his way. "Apologized for her outburst. A bit tipsy and touchy on the subject of the elf."

"We gathered as much," Dandelion said. "But I hope you talked at least some sense into her?"

"Did my best under the circumstances. But it's always up to her and her alone what to do with her personal trust. None of us have to replicate it, however."

"He gave us no reason to," Zoltan said and drank. "Just watch out with this guy, I tell ye."

"Right," Dandelion murmured.

* * *

Yennefer stayed with Ciri for a good half hour before rising up off the covers and going in search of Geralt within the festivities. She'd left a lot to fate once upon a time and regretted it ever since. Now that she'd been given a second chance she was going to make sure it didn't play out in the same way it had the first time.

When she found him, he was with Zoltan and Dandelion.

Crach stopped her before she got to the table.

"Dance with me," he demanded, cheeks flush from mead, his hands already on her wrist trying to haul her into position, to join in on the few bodies already scattered around merrily singing.

He was one of the few men to attempt such a brazen move and know he could get away with it.

"Unfortunately I must decline, I—I have other diplomacies that need tending."

His disappointment hadn't gone unnoticed, nor did his eyes immediately darting to Geralt, piecing together her intention and direction.

"Perhaps a little later," she retorted discreetly, soothing his wounded pride.

"I'll hold ye to it."

She freed her hand, offered him a smile and moved to reclaim her former seat, noting that someone had already removed her abandoned plate. She wasn't hungry anymore, anyway.

"You lot not ready to call it a night, yet?"

"The sun hasn't even set properly yet!" Zoltan objected and refilled their mugs. "And ye know how these feasts go - until the morn light."

"I'm not sleepy yet," Dandelion said and yawned into his fist.

Dandelion wasn't going to be hold out very long, but his attempt to keep up was admiring as much as it was amusing. She gave him an hour before he gave up.

"I also know that they can go on for days and that you've got to reenergize."

And Geralt was hurt.

The Witcher looked at Yennefer inquiringly, "Ciri?"

"She's asleep. I believe the mead and… the day finally caught up to her. How about you? How are you holding up? Is the poultice helping?"

Geralt finished his drink and nodded. "Yes, feels better. Why didn't you stay with Ciri? The room smells like you - means you're staying there, too."

"Like it's news to you," Dandelion snorted into his tankard. Zoltan kicked his foot under the table and lilted out his drink.

"I'll go see if Crach wants to win some coin back. If we don't see each other tonight, Geralt, good night to ye. And ye, too, Yennefer." Off he went.

Dandelion yawned, looking after their retreating friend, then back to them. "I'm still to find out where I can sleep if anywhere, but I bet Zoltan will have this matter resolved in a heartbeat."

"Maybe you should talk to him about it before he gets too wrapped up in his endeavor for coin," Yennefer suggested helpfully, meeting the troubadour's gaze with silent determination.

Given Dandelion's exhaustion it took him a few long seconds to get the message.

"Right," he snapped, jumping from his chair, lacking any kind of subtlety. "I'll… leave you two to it."

And then he, too, was off.

Yennefer watched him go, grateful for his ability to reason the situation, and then focused on Geralt.

"You've been staying with us. With me."

Despite his wish to spend more time with the two of his friends, Yennefer's ability to blow the bard off his chair made Geralt smirk as he watched him retreat after the dwarf.

The Witcher turned to regard her, feeling a slight unease. It was getting a bit awkward to see some specific expectation in her eyes that he couldn't meet.

"Wouldn't it be… uncomfortable, given… well, what happened?" He sighed, thinking how to put it better. "I like you, Yennefer. Only a blind and foolish one wouldn't. But things you know about you and me and I don't seem to recall… anymore… I don't want you to end up hurt. Again."

"I appreciate your consideration and the fact that you're trying to nurse my heart, Geralt, but you've already broken it once in the fortnight."

She didn't have to explain how when he already knew. She reached for one of the tankards to check if there was any mead left and then conceded defeat.

"You should get some rest."

Geralt smirked. "So should you. Or do sorceresses never tire?"

"You think I came all this way to tell you that you needed to go to bed as if you were a child?" He wasn't that drunk yet and had missed the subtle invitation presented.

She rose up off her chair, moved toward the end of the table and extended a hand within his direction.

"Shall we retire?"

Geralt perked up an eyebrow, considering her, then threw a glance at where his friends laughed enjoying their cards game with Crach. He sighed and got up, taking her hand.

"We can play a couple hands of Gwent, too, if that's what you desire," she commented, a small smile touching the corners of her mouth as she guided him away from the crowd toward the exit. "Amongst other things."

"I'm not sure Gwent is the best way to have fun in your company, but if you insist…"

"Really?" she asked curiously, wondering if parts of what they used to do had come back to him at some point and if he'd recognized it. "What do you imagine is?"

"There's little that can outshine the day you decided to tame the djinn and almost failed."

"I didn't almost fail," she retorted cheekily. "If it hadn't been for you getting in my way and being unable to make your wish for riches, I'd have had him."

And then that would have been it. She wouldn't have had Geralt (or Ciri), although, technically, and in his newfound world she still didn't. None of it had made a difference.

"Like I've had you," she continued, flashing him a smirk. "In many, many ways."

Geralt gave her a look that was both ironic and perplexed. "I didn't get to make any wishes. I used the same trick I did before. And then you had me for a couple of hours."

"Huh?" Yennefer asked, using her free hand to stop him, to brace it against his chest so that she could focus. "What do you mean you didn't make a wish? What trick did you use before?"

Geralt peered at her incredulously. "You don't remember? I told him to… well, he wasn't happy to hear it the second time."

As soon as he said it, it dawned on her and she gave a light laugh. "And that was it? He just skittered off into the abyss. He didn't try to kill me? You didn't say anything else to make him stop?"

"There was no time to invent anything new. He'd kill you and everyone else in that town."

Yennefer nodded lightly, squeezed his hand and continued walking down the stairs. "Noble. When last have you seen a Djinn?"

"People don't usually mess with them, therefore I get no such contracts."

And yet, the one person who did had brought him in contact with it twice and cost herself pretty big the final time. However, despite what it had cost her and the more time passed, the less she regretted the decision. It never would have worked otherwise and she doubted their relationship or Yennefer herself inside of it would have reached this point of self-assured acceptance.

"What'd you think of what Ciri told you about Avallac'h?"

His pace slowed when she asked it coaxing his mind back to the horrid things Ciri had told him.

Geralt approached the wall looking down at the dark waters of the bay.

"She told you everything? Then - if you know me so well - you probably know what I think."

Yennefer moved to stand next to him at the wall, leaning her elbows onto the stone that acted as a barrier, inhaling deeply the cold air and its refreshing quality.

"I do, but that's not what I was asking. What do you think of Ciri? After everything, do you think she's in the right frame of mind to be making a judgement like this? Fear can be a pretty big trap. Unless we actually learn more about him personally, we're not going to know how to fully protect her."

It was so damn strange to be discussing such deeply personal matter with a woman he met three times in his life, and trusting all of their judgements about their supposed closeness wasn't coming all that easy.

Frowning, the Witcher tried to overcome the barrier and felt the efforts were tiring.

"I… I don't believe her frame of mind is fully capable of producing the right logic. Her views have been altered by things she went through, and fixing it will be enormously difficult. She's all grown now, her mind hardened in the wrong shape."

"So how do we un-shape it and push it in the right direction?"

Yennefer had been there for her as much as she could, but if she could hardly do for herself emotionally, how could she possibly be there in the way that Ciri needed in order to heal?

"How can we even try without making her run from us? Is there even such a way?"

She certainly didn't want to lose the girl again.

His face hardened, eyes narrowing on the semi-circle of the rising moon. "There has to be, and I will find it. But first thing's first: those pursuers have to go. And then I'll see what I can do about her pain."

_How long before we get rid of those pursuers, though? How long before this nightmare starts to see a clearer picture for her? What if this went on another two years?_ Yennefer cringed at the thought, at that failure and the fact that she had no other way in which to even begin to help Ciri right now – today. But she appreciated his determination, the look in his eyes and everything in-between, it made her wonder why she'd ever doubted his sincerity before, why she'd been so scared of it before when all she wanted now was to embrace it – to embrace him.

"And in the meantime, what do I do about you?"

Geralt turned to her with a look of ironic curiosity. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means – do you want to go back to the unknown or are you finally happy?"

As much as the thought disturbed her, Yennefer had to admit she was curious. If they'd never met, if he'd never made that wish, what did his life look like without her? Would she have been worse than what she was? Would she ever have reached a point in her life where love might even have been a consideration, or would still have sat on the side-lines with Istredd playing at all the things that could never be between them.

Geralt regarded her face in the moonlight that made her skin seem to give off a silvery shine of its own. He thought about her question a moment, studying her face that was familiar but not the way she had been implying all this time.

"How can you want or not want something unknown, Yennefer? It's unknown. As for happy, I'm not sure a witcher is fully acquainted with what that feels like."

"Pretty sure that you do. _Did_."

Especially when they'd finally managed to find Ciri. Despite all they'd shared together and the moments that had come close, nothing could have outdone that feeling of finally seeing their child after two years of searching. At least not yet. Yennefer had hoped that with her feelings more open that might have changed but she had unwittingly driven it in the opposite direction and restarted it.

"You're aware this isn't the first time you've lost your memory?"

Geralt sighed. "I am. But 'this time' doesn't feel the same way. I don't know what I'm missing whereas before I knew I had black holes of what I couldn't recollect."

Apart from her, Yennefer didn't know what else he was been missing, either. She didn't see any fundamental changes in his personality and he remembered what was important.

_Ciri_.

Perhaps she should have spoken to Dandelion and seen what he knew was missing since he'd spoken to Geralt to get him back here and would have noticed a difference – if there was one.

And yet, deep down, Yennefer knew that would be fruitless, that nothing had changed in those ways as he'd already told her and that she was, in fact, the only thing he lacked.

She swallowed and studied one of the ships below in port.

"Are you heading back to Novigrad? Or will you be enjoying the remaining days of the festivities?"

The Witcher shrugged and followed her gaze to the ships below. "I came for Ciri, so it's up to her when she wants to leave."

He peeked at her with a strange mixture of faint guilt and curiosity.

"What about you?"

Yennefer considered upon the initial 'nothing' to escape, that it would be easier on all of them – especially her – but she grasped now that she would be just giving up and opening the door to seclusion.

She didn't want that.

Never again.

They didn't have the best of relationship, hell, it was downright rock-strewn at best, but they still understood one another and despite it all always found their way back.

Would it happen a third time if she were to step back? To do the right thing? Was that even the right thing? Was she even capable of doing it if she had to?

Yesterday it hadn't felt like it and the idea had been downright crippling.

Even now.

"I'll be going with you. With Ciri."

She smiled slightly to let him know that she was expecting anything else, although, in all honesty, every part of her wanted to drag him into a quiet corner and fuck him into submission.

Maybe he'd even remember.

It still amazed him - the contrast between the Yennefer he knew and this one that he was supposed to love. The one he knew excited him, drove him from marvel to anger and back within few moments; with all the anger she inserted in him with her jinx back in the day, Geralt still wanted to save her even if he died in the process.

He only now realized how he never questioned that urge nor tried to dissect it. He merely accepted the fact. Now that her eyes regarded him with an utterly different emotion than he remembered, it occurred to him that there could have been something else.

Something more.

Geralt raised a hand and stroked a finger down her cheek, so smooth, velvet-like and cool from the winds.

"I still have the black holes in my memory from the hunt," he said quietly, eyes locked on hers. "If what you and I had is buried in such hole, I don't think it will come back on its own. Nor do I know what to do about it."

His touch had been unexpected but no less welcome than it always had been, immediately igniting heat and a wanton desire to lose herself in his body.

And something else that had never been present in their physical instances.

Sadness.

Despite the many times she had already kissed him and the fact that he'd returned the care, she hadn't expected him to touch her now without anything but remorseful reservation.

Only, she didn't see that in his eyes now.

"Neither do I," she mused seriously, setting a hand on his armor-covered chest, tentatively invading his space. "Do I spare you the heartache and rediscovery of our once tremulous relationship or do I finally free you so you can find someone more deserving of your devotion?"

A ghost of confusion swept through his gaze. "My kind's not meant to devote oneself to anything but work. What happened with you must have been—"

(_'Destiny is not enough... There should be something more..._')

"… It must have been something special. A fluke in time and space and fate."

She had heard that, known that it was what people believed, but nothing Geralt had ever shared with her had every made her think that was true.

He'd always contradicted that.

Which was why, despite his own disbeliefs and the way he aired them, it had been so hard to let go, to not be drawn to him whenever they were in a close proximity.

"It was," she agreed in a murmur, unable to control the emotions as she leaned into him and brushed her nose against his neck, lightly caressing a spot she had kissed many times over. "I was a fool. A self-regarding imbecile. If I'd managed to accept it as certainty sooner then you wouldn't be looking at me as if I were a stranger or as if you hardly understand how it's possible. We'd just be. As we've always been."

Her eyes trained on him, the way she leaned in and enveloped him in that scent that moved something deep inside him Geralt didn't even know he had, the way she spoke with that new, calm and sensitive tone he didn't really recall her using with anyone before made him feel he was missing something important.

"I want to remember," he murmured into her fragrant raven locks. "I don't know how."

And she wanted him to remember, to make it so that he'd never forget for the fourth time and that any magic that was ever forced between them would never sink their hooks in him again.

Her grip tightened on his armor, clawing at it with the same determination and longing as she felt on the inside, at the hope that if they copulated at least once more than it would be enough and that it would shatter this veil that had come down over his eyes.

That stole him from her.

That she'd allowed to happen because she didn't know how to control her own rooted insecurities.

Yennefer loosened her grip with one hand, fingers twitching, eyes blazing a temporary neon violet, gold swallowing the both of them and instant later until they were deposited elsewhere.

She knew he wouldn't appreciate the dramatics of a portal, but given the privacy needed and the searing urgency she had to have him inside her, Yennefer hadn't even considered another option.

Where they appeared was in the castle, upstairs, in old King's bed chambers.

She used the portal on them so quickly and sneakily that Geralt barely registered the reason why his innards flipped making his head foggy. There was something hard propping the backs of his knees and next moment he fell back on the bed. The chamber was dark, but the moonlight seeping through the window was perfectly enough for him.

"I'm pretty sure we're not allowed here," he reprimanded, undoing the laces on her corset while her fingers tugged at the straps of his jacket.

"As if that ever stopped us before."

Not that he'd remember that or that it even mattered.

Yennefer captured his lips in a kiss, pushing his jacket from his upper body, dragging it to the floor beside their feet before hastily busying herself with the belt around his waist.

The urgency in her fingers pulling the belt open and her hardened nipples beneath his fingerpads and the thin fabric of her shirt, her scent all around him cast everything else away.

Her lips grew more demanding along with her hands. The bandaged side stung, but it was in another world, far away.

Yennefer dragged the belt and its lethal trinkets to the floor, deepening the kiss, sweeping her tongue into his mouth in preparation of temporarily parting.

As if she needed the physical token for sanity sake.

When she drew back, she motioned to her shoes with a crook of her index finger, shedding the material from her feet as if they'd been nothing but an assortment of gathered stars.

She didn't want to bother with the laces.

She repeated the process with her pants and the accompanied underwear.

His hands roamed her naked back, drawing her closer against him while their lips found each other again. Geralt felt her heart thrash against his chest, accelerating his own pulse in some kind of a strange excitement as if anticipating something unique, something his body remembered but his mind did not.

Yennefer circled her arms around his neck as he drew him closer, exploring his mouth again, enjoying the act of kissing him as if it were the first time and of being able to taste him.

A night ago she had been convinced it wouldn't happen again, that she had finally pushed it too far.

With one hand she clawed at his shoulders and hoisted herself onto his lap so that she could straddle him, rolling her hips, grinding against him in anticipation of their joining.

Their breath ragged, they couldn't get enough of each other's lips barely minding to take in any air. Her hair spilled around her shoulders in an unruly aura speckled with silver sparks from the moonlight outlining her silhouette. His fingers traveled across her heated soft skin, his lips explored the column of her neck, grazing her skin with teeth in growing impatience.

Kissing Geralt filled her with a renewed sense of life and inspiration, over shining even the magic that she had been harboring for near on a century and its every belief.

She marveled at the newness of the perception, of being able to accept their love for what it was and indulging in it without hesitation.

The internalized fear hadn't dissipated though, deceived by the fact that his lips moved against her own as if he knew her, as if he'd sensed what she liked and had been doing it for years.

Yennefer slid her hand into his silvery hair, tugging at the soft locks, massaging in turn the more passionate they became until the liquid heat between her thighs ached for more.

She broke their kiss and struggled for breath, reaching between their bodies, freeing him of his breeches, using her right hand to steadily work his cock to hardness.

A comber of pleasure thrust through him, and his patience dissolved beneath her demanding hand. Geralt wrapped his own around her throat and flipped her onto her back, hovering over her; a smirk touched his lips as he noticed her eyes widen up at him in the dark.

"Teasing yourself," he murmured. "Your patience astounds me."

Yennefer stared up at him with hunger filled delight, the hand that had been settled around his cock coming to rest on his hip while the other had steadied on the back of his neck.

"It wasn't about patience," she mused, raising her knees beside his hips, sliding her legs around his waist, hooking her heels against his backside to draw him closer and down to where she most needed him. "It's about the value of preparation."

She shifted the hand from his neck to his chin, raising herself slightly to once more capture his lips.

Their lips met, and so did their hips, coming together with a thrust of his. She moaned into their kiss, sending a shiver down his spine as he began to set a pace.

Her body ignited as soon as he slid into her, legs tight around his waist as they fell into an easy and natural rhythm, bodies seeking and working like they always did.

When the intensity became too much and threatened to overwhelm her, she broke the kiss, bringing involuntary and uncharacteristic tears to her eyes, struggling between her moans to catch her breath.

Trying to control it, Yennefer closed a hand around his throat possessively, making sure he kept eye contact with her as they rocked together, seeking recognition in his pleasure-filled gaze, and more importantly a sign to suggest that he was feeling things as intensely as she was.

She was trying to make out his face in the dark, Geralt was sure, but for him Yennefer's was visible in detail. Her eyes were gleaming as if tears welled up there. There was more vulnerability, much more than what he had encountered in their first time. Once again, it occurred to him she would get hurt in the end of this affair if his memory was gone.

Their rhythm became more frantic the closer they got to the finish line they both craved. He leaned in to bury his face in the crook of her shoulder when the wave of thrilling pleasure rushed through him reverberating in every nerve. He closed his eyes taking it all in and relishing in the blinding ecstasy her body brought, bathing in the scent that lured him so unexplainably.

The hand on his throat weakened as the first traces of their culmination began to sweep through Yennefer, causing a sequence of white sparks and stars to dance in front of her eyes until they squeezed shut and she was nothing more than a feeble prisoner trapped in the flame of fulfilment.

With his face buried in the crook of her neck, panting softly as he recovered from the exertion, her arms had snaked their way around him, nails gripping him to her as if she dreaded he'd try to break away.

It didn't hurt, she knew, it couldn't possibly – nothing could – not like it had.

When the nervousness endeavored to anchor its hold, she fought against it, using the opportunity and rush of despairing strength to flip them over.

A swift motion of her right hand and the candles she knew were strewn around the room had ignited on their holders, presenting her an unopposed and studious view of his features. He looked contented, his forehead dotted with sweat, her thumb and forefinger brushing at his brow and the scar that adorned the side of his face with gentle scrutiny.

Scared of speaking for the first time in a very long time or of probing his mind for the answer, of asking if something had changed when she knew it hadn't, and the inkling crippled her with sorrow.

He didn't fight her for dominance and relaxed beneath her as she lit the candles. He squinted against the initial brightness, getting accustomed to it, and feasted his eyes on her perfect naked shapes.

Her eyes were searching him once again through the tresses of tussled black hair, and he didn't know what to tell her or even whether he had to confirm the lack of any changes she might be hoping for.

Instead he pulled her gently down to him for a kiss.

Yielding to the obvious, she let him draw her down, capturing his lips with equal measures of what she now knew could be considered love and acceptance.

If this was all she'd get for the rest of their lives (apart or together), then so be it, it's not as if she merited more considering her own comparable naivety in the past. The more she dissected their situation, where Geralt was concerned, she realized she was outstanding at self-sabotage. She had just never recognized it, never realized how far she had pushed the limits of their relationship until their last djinn occurrence. He'd always been enduring, tolerant of her difference of opinion, until he no longer was, and she no longer knew what to do or how to keep herself submerged.

Yennefer deepened the kiss, trying to shut the sickly thoughts from her head, to take as much of him as she could, while she could, until eventually drawing back to catch her breath again, fingers crawling their way down his abdomen to come to rest on the bandage, to check if she hadn't disturbed it much.

"You'll sleep with Ciri and me tonight."

Geralt let out a long, relaxing sigh and pulled her down to lie beside him. "I don't want to leave her alone for long, but… nor do I want to leave here… now…"

Her palm flattened against his chest lightly as she eased into the crook of his arm and onto her side, resting her head on his shoulder. "Then we'll stay."

Another motion of her hand and she shifted one of the chairs within the room to behind the door—to act as an alarm should Crach return at some point to recharge—and doused the candles.

It wasn't long before she drifted to sleep.

They slept snuggled together. When he woke, it was still dark, but the moon was already leaving the sky.

He gently woke her so she could move them back to the inn. Ciri was sleeping like an angel and didn't stir when they arrived. Yennefer lay down beside her and Geralt spread a couple of furs on the floor. As soon as he was down, sleep took him.

* * *

Ciri hadn't expected to sleep through the whole night. She so rarely did anymore as her mind was plagued with nightmares and hauntings. The latter was Eredin's work. He'd been visiting her when she slept ever since she escaped Tir Na Lia six years ago. Sometimes he even came when she was awake, in spirit form. He came to taunt and threaten and seduce. Making damned sure Ciri would never forget he'd eventually capture her. As if she could ever forget…

And the nightmares, they were not of the elves. They were of her own kind. People she had met in the past, people who had made it their life's mission to use her, torment her, kill her. Sometimes all three.

The only nightmare that no longer played on repeat as it had done when she was a child, was Cahir. The Knight with the winged helmet. She had been so terrified of his image as a child. And everyone had told her it was just a dream, not knowing how her nightmare was rooted in reality. Even Geralt, at some point. Until he'd met Cahir himself and heard the truth.

And the truth had been… complicated. All she had remembered, and still did, was a Black Knight picking her up from the massacre of Cintra, who stole her away while she passed out, and when she awoke she was naked and he was touching her…

It had been explained to her that Cahir's intentions, once foul, had not been to harm her. But to protect. He had told Geralt so himself when he joined the Witcher's company to find her.

Even so, when he died she felt… relief. And the nightmares of his horrid helmet had faded, slowly but surely, to be replaced with others. More recent.

But that night it had neither been Eredin, Bonhart, or Cahir who had visited her dreams, but rather a stranger. A stranger who, even though she was certain she had never seen before, felt familiar. She hadn't even truly seen his face, only the silhouette of his body and a tuft of fair hair. The same color as hers. The dream hadn't invoked fear, nor happiness. Only curiosity. And she could not for the life of her understand why.

When she woke, the sun was peeking in through the windows. She found Yennefer in bed beside her and once Ciri rolled over onto her side, she saw Geralt asleep on the floor. He was here. With them. With Yennefer. Did that mean…?

Ciri leaned down over him and prodded the Witcher's chest, several times because, despite his superior reflexes, he currently seemed too sleepy to make use of them. "Oy," she whispered, giving him an extra prod for good measure. "Wake up."

He heard the movement on the bed, but hoped they wouldn't decide to get up just yet. He had to attempt at least another hour.

It wasn't happening.

He groaned in meek protest and pried one eye open.

"Who taught you to be so cruel?"

"Lambert," she grinned, peering down at him. "You're here! And shirtless! Does that mean you and Yennefer…?" She threw a quick look over her shoulder at the said sorceress. "Are you back together?"

Dumbfounded, he looked down at himself and realized why it was so chilly. His shirt and jacket lay on a huge chest at the wall. Good thing his pants were on. Morning-tight, too.

He sat up with effort, rubbing his face. "I don't remember what you two know, Ciri. So... I don't know."

"But… you're here," she repeated, brow creased in a slight frown as she whispered.] "With _her_!"

Geralt looked at her, both amused and incredulous. "I was with Zoltan and Dandelion last night. We're friends. We're all trying to help you and resolve our problems."

"And yet, you didn't sleep next to Zoltan and Dandelion, did you?" she pointed out, hopeful.

She threw another look at Yen who was still asleep before slipping out of bed on nimble feet, searching for her boots. "Let's get some breakfast. I'm starving."

The Witcher got up and put the shirt on. "I slept on the floor," he pointed out with unnecessary stubbornness. "Not next to her."

He buckled up the leather straps of his jacket and headed for the door.

A group of sailors - already drunk - conversed at one of the tables. The innkeeper was roasting rabbits and smirking as he listened.

"I swear to ye, t'was no ploughin' siren!" cried out one of them in tired frustration. "T'was a ploughin' dragon!"

"No dragons 'ere for a long time," the other one announced dismissively. "Ye had too much mead."

"I went to take a piss, ye ploughin' fool! Not a drop in me from whole night! The sun barely ready to rise and that ploughin' thing flyin' screechin'. I swear all sirens blew away from the sea savin' their hides!"

His mates laughed, refilling his mug.

"We sail out next morn, so we'll see where's your ploughin' dragon then."

The innkeeper chuckled to himself quietly turning the meat over the fire. He saw the two and nodded.

"Good morn to ye."

Ciri's excitement about Yennefer and Geralt was briefly pushed aside at the tale of a dragon having been spotted in Skellige. A wyvern, perhaps? Though they rarely travelled this far north.

She tore her gaze away from the sailors and smiled pleasantly at the innkeep. "Good morning. Any breakfast up for grabs?"

He nodded. "Aye. The wife's pullin' the bread from the oven as we speak, and I slaughtered a pig last night. Still some good meat left. Ye fancy eggs as well?"

"Yes, please," she said without waiting for Geralt's input. "And some tea, please."

"Ye can neigh like horses as much as ye like," the offended sailor said getting up on shaky legs. "And then they never find yer darn bones. I'll ask our queen to get us a witcha 'cause I'm not going into that sea until the ploughin' dragon's gone and I see the ploughin' head. And ye just wait: when he's done with the sirens, he's comin for yer stupid arses."

Staggering, he headed for the door. His friends drank and laughed.

Geralt smirked shaking his head.

They both followed the offended individual with their gazes until he was out the door. His friends didn't seem particularly intent on soothing his nerves, nor apologizing for laughing at his fear. Which made them awful friends, in Ciri's opinion.

She pushed away from the bar counter and headed for a free table near the fireplace, taking a seat. "So? Anything exciting happen last night?"

"A few Gwent rounds with the guys and then we went to the Inn," he said and shrugged. "I think they continued playing with Crach. You slept well? No nightmares?"

"Nightmares?" She scoffed softly with a disarming smile. "I'm not twelve anymore, Geralt."

Nor did she want him to see her that way. She did not want to be the child who needed constant protection. No matter how good it had made her feel to know he would always take care of her. "I slept fine. Must be the bed. I far prefer them to the forest floor."

"When you're right, you're right," he smiled, studying her furtively. He had his doubts. "I do have nightmares, too. It's not a children thing. No need to be ashamed. It happens."

Ciri tilted her head to the side, meeting his gaze. "What are your nightmares about?"

"Different things. Monsters… Failed contracts as I miss the fatal blows of fangs or claws or talons and feel the heat of blood soaking my clothes… Or you - like you're in danger or dying and I can't help. Those are by far the worst I've ever had."

She wondered if those nightmares – the ones of her – were his imagination or true visions of what had happened. Or perhaps what would come to be... "You always help," she said with a small smile. "You gave me the ability to fight. To protect myself."

Geralt smiled sadly. "It never feels like I've done enough in that area, Ciri. I don't think it ever will. I'll always want to do more and then some."

"What more could you have done?" she asked, a slight note of humor in her voice now. "Sewn wings on my back and pillows under my feet?"

He chuckled softly. "Nice ideas, albeit late ones."

Ciri shrugged and leaned back in her seat, drawing her elbows off the table when the innkeeper brought their food. He put the tray down heavily and left them to help themselves. "Are you returning to Novigrad for more contracts?"

"We'll have to gather more allies and find ways to effectively fight back the Wild Hunt. I don't think there's time for any new contracts."

He filled his mug and took a gulp.

"Avallac'h shared any plans?"

"I think he wants to ask Mousesack for a possible alliance." Ciri paused, filling her own mug and setting the teapot aside. "We are going to Novigrad together, yes?"

"It might be the best for you to stay here for now. Safer that way. We will be back shortly."

Her gaze froze on him and she felt disappointment clutch at her stomach. "Safer for me? Or for Novigrad?" she asked softly, eventually looking away. "Yen won't be able to take you all. And the docks are still closed for the feasts."

"Safer for you, Ciri. You are my focus. And don't worry, I'm sure we'll manage."

Childish petulance rose within her like boiling water. Ciri wanted to whine. And complain. And tell him he wasn't allowed to leave again.

But she didn't. She tried to shove those unhelpful emotions deep, deep down. And managed. Somehow.

Gods, maybe Avallac'hs training was starting to help? He could never find out. He'd be insufferable.

She reached for the plate of meat and bread, arranging a sandwich for herself in absolute silence.

"I don't want to leave you, Ciri," Geralt said, reading her imperceptible expressions. "But we have to play it all as safe for you as possible. We are buying time and it's important to keep you hidden and quiet."

"Hidden and quiet. Just like every other day of my life," she commented sourly, then sighed, looking to meet his gaze again. "Apologies, Geralt. It is not your fault. I know this. I just… I grow weary."

He smiled, recalling her dragging her feet around Kaer Morhen's keep when she couldn't train. "I know. We all do. But hopefully it shall serve us well."

"Morn to ye," Zoltan approached and settled next to Ciri. "That useless bard's impossible to wake at this hour. Ye slept good? We did but not long. Some stupid-ass sailor, drunk as a goose, came about yelling there's a dragon snatching babes and women. That we all had to gather an army. Everybody had a laugh but the old druid grew all grey and stormy and left with the poor bastard." The dwarf chortled, pouring himself a drink.

Ciri looked between the two. They did not seem concerned in the least.

She found that odd. Witness accounts of monsters usually did not go unanswered. Especially by a witcher. No matter how ridiculous they sounded.

She ate in silence for a minute, deep in thought and busy chewing when the door opened anew and Avallac'h stepped inside. He looked so out of sorts here it was almost comical.

When his gaze landed on their table, he strode towards them, robes swishing behind him, the sound of his boots non-existent.

"Zireael," he greeted monotonously. "I need a word."

She watched him, still silent and still chewing until she realized he wanted a private moment.

"Oh," she said, swallowing and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "Alright."

He moved ahead of her towards a lone table close to the kitchen, one where they could not easily be overheard.

"I hoped I would find you before you indulged in spirits again."

She couldn't be certain, but she thought that might have been Avallac'hs attempt at a joke. "Just in time."

He stared at her with that unreadable expression of his before reaching into his pocket, withdrawing a silver bracelet set with a green stone, letting it dangle off his index finger.

Ciri gasped and reached for it, almost reverently. "You fixed it?"

"I've had some time," he said nonchalantly, lowering his arm again, watching her as she watched the bracelet. "Zireael."

"Mhmm?"

"Do not get your hopes up. It has been years since you last saw that mare. She may not be here anymore."

"I won't," she promised, already brimming with hope. "Help me put it on."

* * *

Unlike the previous morning, opening her eyes had been less of a chore this time and Yennefer felt relaxed. Ciri and Geralt were nowhere in sight but she knew they were fine. The sorceress rolled over onto her side, running a hand across the top of the covers were Ciri had slept before, and then speared a look at the floor where Geralt had made himself comfortable after their return. She'd intended to squeeze him between them, to limit his discomfort but the warrior in him was too prevalent to care about such trivial business. An excuse at that, too.

She eased into a sitting position, combed a hand through her hair and then walked over to the vanity to check the damage to her appearance before stripping off her clothes and climbing into the bath.

She'd have asked for someone to take the time to fill it, but she couldn't be bothered to wait, and like the night before, she made quick use of her magic, cleansing herself as much as she could of that despairing feeling of loss so they could start fresh.

* * *

Zoltan and Geralt exchanged meaningful glances and watched the two converse.

"He givin' er trinkets now?" the dwarf grumbled.

"Not that kind, as far as I know."

"The lass' all grown, Geralt, and now ye _never_ know." He drank pensively, eyeballing them askance. "Ye leaving soon? We ought to gather our forces and assess."

"True. And as soon as possible."

"Have you talked to Mousesack yet?" Ciri asked, watching the bracelet sparkle around her wrist before she covered it with a sleeve.

"No. The druid is proving to be elusive. What of your… friends?" Avallac'h glanced briefly in Geralt and Zoltan's direction. "Another day of drinking and whoring? They do not seem to understand what is at stake."

"They know," she responded firmly. "And I was just told they will be going to Novigrad to gather potential allies there."

Avallac'h looked impressed and pleased. It only lasted for a second before his pale blue eyes settled on her again. "You are not going." It was not a question.

She clenched her jaw and stared daggers at the ridiculously tall elf. "I know."

* * *

By the time Yennefer emerged from their chambers, she was lighter on her feet, make-up reapplied, and headed for the main hall in search of breakfast and the rest of her family.

It didn't take long to find them or to see that one of them had broken off to talk to the elf.

While they conversed, she busied herself with probing his mind, wincing slightly as she walked toward Geralt, annoyed that the mere gesture appeared to be blocked by the strength of the Elf's magic.

She knew she could break through it if given a real chance to do so, but she hadn't wanted to make him privy to her attempt or add to Ciri's distress from the day before.

"Today?" she asked, easing onto the chair beside Geralt, gazing at the two men in turn. "You're heading back to Novigrad?"

"We're yet to decide our plan of action."

"Yer plan of action is to gather any help available," Zoltan said. "What of yer magic friends, Yennefer? Anyone other than Merigold would help?"

"Help Ciri, you mean? Doubtful. The Lodge isn't exactly open to doing favors for nothing and I'm not on the best of terms with them. There might be a few mages I can contact—"

Some indebted, others that could be bent, but she couldn't be sure that would even work or that she wanted them dealing with the delicacy of their situation when she couldn't trust them.

Yennefer could hardly trust those that she did classify as friends.

"You've already sent for Triss?" she asked, question she directed at Geralt as if she'd imagined it might have been the first thing he did upon waking.

"She knows we're meant to pick our field for battle and then take a stand. She's waiting for invitation and searching for those willing to help, too. Isn't it what you two agreed on before we left Kaer Morhen?"

Yennefer studied the Witcher, confused, wondering how he'd known that was even a possibility when he'd hardly remembered her a day ago.

She sucked in a breath, hating herself for being too hopeful, assuming that Zoltan had probably filled him in or Dandelion if they even knew she'd been scrubbed from his mind.

"Right."

"Do you want to sit with us and have breakfast?" Ciri asked the elf. Geralt had taught her to be polite and to show hospitality, after all.

Avallac'h shook his head almost imperceptibly. "No. Come to my rooms for your training once you finish. No more breaks."

He turned and sashayed out of the room with the quiet grace only an elf could, the door closing behind him.

She returned to the table, greeted Yen with a kiss to the cheek, and found her seat again, reclaiming her sandwich.

Yennefer sat back in her chair, smiling at Ciri once she came to join them again.

"Before we start recruiting any outsiders, we might want to work on a more proficient plan. I need to know who we need. Kaer Morhen would have been perfect for its defenses. Three to four mages and we could have covered it in its entirety."

"Yes, now that the Hunt has probably been to check it, Kaer Morhen must be available for us once again. I wouldn't expect them setting a trap there or waiting in ambush. As far as I know they can't stay for long in one place, can they? Mousesack will help us, so will Triss. And Yennefer. That makes three. Triss said Philippa would probably agree if we helped her resolve her issues with Dijkstra and King Radovid. I'm willing to try this."

Ciri flinched at the mention of Philippa, though said nothing. It had been years since she'd last seen the woman. Ciri did not care for her or the sorceress's plans for her back then. She doubted much had changed.

But she was no fool. She knew they needed the help of capable sorceresses. And other than Yennefer, the women of the Lodge were the best. "Resolve her issues with King Radovid? The king who puts all magic users on the pyre?" She looked between Geralt and Yennefer. "You cannot get involved with him. It is suicide."

Yennefer made a mental note of their numbers, who she assumed was on their side and what could be, and then nodded slowly as she absorbed it all. Triss was right about Philippa.

"I'll help you with Philippa."

Yennefer knew there wasn't much time, but it was an issue that needed to be dealt with, not just for Philippa, but for all Mages, everyone that had ended up tied to those pyres and could in future.

"But there possible another two names we could add to that list. Margarita. Fringilla."

Geralt nodded in agreement with Yennefer, so did Zoltan.

"There's not much choice left by now, lassy," the dwarf said, scratching his beard. "We'll be there to help if needed and to make sure it goes well. Don' worry yerself. Not the first time."

"We won't be doing it alone, Ciri," Geralt added. "There's quite a few people wishing to deal with Radovid, and we are just pitching in. Zoltan's right, don't worry."

"And when you say deal with, you mean assassinate?" Ciri asked, not at all reassured and terrified they'd soon find themselves on one of those pyres.

She tried to breathe easy, to stay calm and even utilized a few of the techniques Avallac'h had instilled in her. Then she turned to Yennefer. "Are you sure Philippa is worth it?"

"She is," the sorceress affirmed, reaching across the table to gently place her hand over Ciri's. "I know you're cautious of Philippa and her motives. With good reason. But she's powerful and on our side, against the wild hunt, she'd be a formidable ally. We need those to spare."

Geralt finished his meal and pushed the plate away, washing it down with the final gulp of herbal tea.

"Any other mages aside that Phillipa?" Zoltan inquired, eyeing Yennefer. "Or she brings friends?"

Ciri didn't like it but didn't argue, either. How could she? "Margarita and Fingilla," she said in response to Zoltan's question, repeating what Yennefer herself had said earlier. "That leaves five. Six if we count Avallac'h. He has magic of his own."

Yennefer smiled. "That should be enough."

They were all powerful in their own right and although Yennefer didn't trust them on a personal level – that wasn't what she wanted from them.

"We should go as soon as everyone's fed."

She hadn't seen Dandelion anywhere in the vicinity of the inn.

"Where's the troubadour?"

"Barfin around the docks somewhere," Zoltan shrugged. "Or moanin as those good lasses are takin care of 'im. Too much mead even for the artist." He chuckled and lilted out his tea. "He's going to be fine when it's time to go. Just give us a whistle. I'm gonna go try find the druid – if we are going back today. Are we?"

"I suppose we better do things faster at this point," Geralt said. "So yes. We have to depart today."

"Very well," Zoltan nodded and went for the door.

The thought that they were all leaving was horribly depressing. Ciri poked at the sad remains of her sandwich, praying she wasn't going to cry once they had to say goodbyes.

Though perhaps it was better to get it over with sooner rather than later. It was going to be just Avallac'h and her again.

She cleared her throat and rose to her feet. "I should go. Avallac'h is waiting."

"Ciri," Yennefer said, sliding out of her chair, meaning to catch her before she could run away. The sorceress pulled her into a hug, gently sweeping a hand over her hair in a way Yennefer had done many times over in the years. "We're going to be fine. You're going to be fine."

Ciri let Yennefer catch her without resistance and leaned into her embrace, muttering into her dark curls. "Not me I am worried about. I only just got you back. I can't lose you again. I won't survive it."

Geralt wanted to stop the girl for a moment, seeing she was upset to see them go again, but he let Yennefer take her moment this time. Perhaps there was something she could tell to get through to Ciri now that she needed it. He got up from the table and stood near, nevertheless.

Yennefer tightened her hold on Ciri, comfortingly stroking her back, trying as best she could to soothe the girl although the sorceress had no way in which to really predict the outcome of what they were going to do. But that wasn't what scared Yennefer. What she feared was losing Ciri and Geralt. "And I am worried about you. Neither Geralt nor I can lose you." She glanced back at him when she sensed him getting up as well, a kind of shared understanding that he was free to speak up. "Not again."

"If you get stuck," Ciri began, "send me a sign. I will come get you." She didn't care if it would alert Eredin to her presence. "Promise me. You must promise."

"Ciri," Geralt said, stepping forth and next to Yennefer, his hand coming to rest on Ciri's shoulder squeezing. "I promise we will come back to you in one piece. If something goes wrong, we shall seek any help available to fulfill that promise. All right?"

"Okay," Ciri replied after a moment's contemplation, feeling very much like the little girl she had worked so hard to leave behind.

She hugged Yennefer once more and went for Geralt next.

"I love you both." That couldn't be said enough. Not for people like them.

"Geralt's right. Neither of us is looking at this as a suicide mission."

The sorceress brushed a stray strand behind her ear, uncaring that she'd grown so much and that she might not appreciate the continued coddling. Yennefer had been deprived of two years and had a lot to make up for.

"We'll be coming back. And we'll be coming back in one piece." A promise Yennefer added as a murmur, hugging Ciri back tightly. "I love you, too." Words that had become easier to manage over the last few days.

Ciri untangled herself from them, gave one last brave smile, and stepped out to find the elf.

Yennefer wanted Ciri to assure her that she wouldn't do anything reckless, that she wouldn't think about doing anything without them, but she'd already started to leave.

"Do you think she's going to be fine?"

Geralt sighed and began to walk for the door. "Other choices are not good enough for her or any of us, so she will try. She will fight to be all right."


	5. Chapter 5

Bracing the cold yet again, Ciri climbed the stairs leading to the castle. She was not really in the right mindset to meet with Avallac'h. Especially if he intended to push another of his infuriating training sessions on her. She did not understand why he thought they would do any good in regards to her powers, seeing as she was not even allowed to use said powers for training at all. How was she supposed to get better in time to face Eredin and his Red Riders, when using her special talents would lead him straight to her?

Avallac'h had settled on meditation. He believed Ciri would be better able to control her powers if she were able to control her emotions. He was not entirely wrong. Though magical outbursts during rage or grief or even fear were so rare, she hardly saw the point of the exercises. She was unmotivated. Which led to arguments.

"You are not focusing," Avallac'h said thirty minutes later, peering down at her where she lay atop his bed, attempting to follow his voice into a guided meditation. "I can feel your thoughts flutter away like the wings of a butterfly. You are thinking of the Witcher and the Sorceress, your horse who you want to reclaim, and worst of all, you think of him. Of Eredin. You are frightened. Strike it from your mind."

"Stop that," she chided, though she didn't open her eyes. "Don't look into my head like that."

"I am not," he responded. "Your kind is easy to read. Your emotions and thoughts are written all over your face for everyone to see."

"Then stop looking at me."

"Zireael."

Ciri sighed and sat up, despite the look of warning she saw in the elf's eyes. "This is pointless. I know you fear I will lose control. But I haven't! Not for ages. For years, Avallac'h!"

Avallac'h's gaze softened ever so slightly and he sank to his haunches before her. Even then he was taller than her. He took her hands in his and despite her annoyance, Ciri had to smile. The way in which he tried to comfort her was very… human. Something he had adapted during their travels together. And it demeaned him, she knew, because no matter how hard he tried, he still despised the human race like most of the Aen Elle did. To them, humans were nothing but slaves.

"I know, me luned," he said, his voice softer than usual. "And I would not be so worried had we the luxury to exercise your magic. But since we so rarely get to do that these days, you are buzzing with unspent energy, set to explode at any little nudge of emotional disturbance. It could harm your friends, the people of this island. And it could harm you."

She watched him for a long moment, those pale but bright eyes. She remembered her first encounter with him and Eredin side by side, and how she had compared them at that moment. Eredin's hair was the darkest black, whereas Avallac'h was fair. Avallac'h's face was gentle, while Eredin's brought to mind a bird of prey. Fair and dark. Good and evil. Even then those had been her instincts. "Would it sadden you if I were harmed?"

Avallac'h looked surprised. That was rare. "Of course. Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Would you be sad because you care for me, or because it might hinder my ability to stop The White Frost?"

He hesitated. The bastard hesitated.

Ciri tore her hands from his grasp and stood, striding for the door.

"Zireael!" he called out from behind her, but Ciri did not stop. With tears in her eyes, she stepped out into the hallway and slammed the door shut behind her.

* * *

Leaving Yennefer to converse with Crach, Geralt went in search of Zoltan and Dandelion. They were in the main hall having a breakfast worthy of kings. Not that it made the bard particularly happy - his hangover cut the pleasures short.

"Oh. Geralt." Dandelion raised his fork in greeting, then went on to poking at the piece of fried meat.

Zoltan was finishing his plate vigorously. "We goin?" he asked.

"Depends on whether you saw the druid."

"Not since the morn," the dwarf said. "Could he have gone back to his place? Up there in the woods?"

Geralt sighed. "It complicates matters. We'll have to ride there."

Dandelion groaned, dropping his head. "Not today. My head is splitting as it is!"

"Too bad, mate," Zoltan said. "We'll ask Yennefer to take you home."

* * *

Yennefer headed back to the inn, gathered up her belongings, those she'd need during their travels and those that would help find Philippa.

And then she waited, assuming Geralt and Zoltan would come for her when they were ready.

She didn't have to wait long and they didn't come alone. Dandelion was with them. He greeted her feebly, dropping down onto the edge of the bed as he waited for them to talk and prepared to go.

"I won't be able to take everyone at once." And considering the distance the one time move would be draining for a singular day. "Zoltan should stay and keep an eye on Ciri – at a distance – until we're ready."

"Isn't it Avallac'h's job?" Zoltan inquired, arms folded. "Not that I'm objectin, but the elf doesn't let anyone near 'em when they train. Dandelion and I could go ahead to Novigrad if ye open the portal, and ye two can say our byes to our lassy."

Geralt turned to Yennefer. "Can you send them back? I'll need to talk to Mousesack, and he's back at his camp. We'll have to ride there."

"Avallac'h has his part. He isn't with her every waking minute. Not that I expect that you should be either. But she needs the extra back up, even if she doesn't think so."

She'd been without it for too long during her two year disappearance and Yennefer didn't want her feeling that way again if the sorceress could help it. It pushed her to making decisions that could be considered reckless.

And to be fair, they hadn't really been apart much since they found her.

If Yennefer wasn't with her, then Geralt was and that was just the unspoken rule.

"You're going to ask Ermion to help us?"

"I don't think I'll have to ask - he'll be protecting her on his own will. But it won't hurt to discuss the outlines of a plan. Come up with one, I mean."

"No, it won't." As at odds Ermion and Yennefer could be, she trusted his advice and council when it came to what was best with regard to protecting Ciri.

"I'll wait with a mug out there," Zoltan said heading out of the room.

"I'll be back for you later." She'd say goodbye to Ciri at the same time. "I'll go back with Dandelion."

The troubadour raised his head from his hands, his eyes slightly watery, and his features an ashen white that suggested either his head was splitting or that he might be expelling his mead soon.

"Say your goodbyes."

He did as she instructed and before he even finished, she conjured a portal and ushered him into it.

Dandelion clutched his stomach as soon as they materialized on the other side, officially looking as though he were fighting back the urge to let go.

And then it passed.

"You all right?"

"Jagged night," he reflected, in sighting very little sympathy from her.

"I don't know about that, from where I'd been sitting it looked rather cozy."

He straightened up sharply, his brows drawing down when he realized his mistake and then carefully began to walk away from her. "Where are we?"

"An Inn I usually frequent when in Novigrad."

One of the few places that didn't outright try and shun her or appeared fine with the use of magic as long the coin didn't run out.

"You'll be staying here?"

"Until I get an idea of where my next target might be."

"A mage?" he asked, reminding her that he had indeed been listening in part to their conversation and that he hadn't been in totality wrapped up in himself.

"Someone useful."

He gave up on trying to push her for more of an explanation and slowly made his way out of the chamber. "How'd you know someone wouldn't be in there in the midst of a tryst?"

"I've reserved this room for myself. If someone had been there we'd have been redirected."

"To where?"

She smirked slightly as she followed him out and down into the main hall, packed with bodies and a series of unfamiliar faces –aside from one. "You should be on your way, Dandelion."

He nodded and Yennefer knew it was only because he was ill, that the idea of being on his feet any longer was probably harder than he'd imagined given all the mead he'd consumed. Yennefer could also sense he wanted to talk about something else, that he had a flare of curiosity, something Geralt had said and she'd barely picked up on mentally before it darted to another thought, one that included two pairs of bosoms and a fond undertaking of one.

"Be safe out there," the sorceress said as he started away from her, probably going in search of his hive of poets and actors. "And try not to get into too much trouble."

Geralt couldn't afford the distraction. A smile blossomed onto his face slightly, followed by a brief look of surprise that she carefully tuned out as she made her way for the Owner of the inn.

After setting things up, making sure they would have place to hole up for the night and regrouping to discuss their plans in peace, she returned to Skellige.

She carried through the last of her magic gear and her scope, leaving the rest of her stuff to be looked after by Ciri before returning for a final time and going in search of Geralt and Zoltan.

It hadn't taken too long to find the latter as he'd been waiting for her at the Inn.

"Did yah get the troubadour back in one piece?" he asked when he saw her, smiling over his cup of mead.

"Just about."

He gave a laugh, polished the last of his drink and stood, following her out of the establishment as they went in search of Ciri to say goodbye and see how far Geralt had come with his druids.

* * *

Ciri headed straight for the stables after fleeing Avallac'h's rooms, eager to get away and outside. To do _anything_ other than obsess over the danger she was in, the danger she was placing her friends and family in, and the fact certain people seemed to think she was more of a threat to the world than The Wild Hunt itself.

With the help of stable boy who couldn't stop gawking at her scar, Ciri quickly saddled a brown mare and set off up the mountain path, leaving the village of Kaer Trolde behind. As soon as she was out of sight, she let her horse move at a comfortable walk, reaching up to remove the pins from her hair, massaging her scalp and allowing her tresses to flow freely. Another rarity. Only sorceresses and whores wore their hair down – a sign of an independent, strong woman. The nobility pinned theirs up and the common folk wore their hair in braids or tucked away beneath caps. Ciri wasn't quite sure which category she belonged to, anymore, but it felt nice to simply be herself for a bit, and not what everyone else wanted her to be.

She'd always admired Yennefer's dark curls, ever since she first laid eyes on her as a child. And no matter what Ciri did, her hair would not replicate hers. Ciri's was straight and silky. A gift from her elven ancestors, she supposed. One she was slowly learning to embrace.

Ciri rode for a while with no aim or goal in mind, simply reveling in the activity, in the warmth of the horse beneath her. She too seemed to enjoy a ride just for the hell of it. But within the hour she found herself in familiar territory, close to where she knew Mousesack, or _Ermion_ around these parts, and his druids made camp. At least they had when she was a child. Ciri had not had the time to examine the area last time she was here, pursued by Eredin's warriors.

She steered the horse in the direction she believed was the correct one and was soon rewarded with the sight of smoke rising over the barren treetops. Like from a campfire. The druids were neither skeptic nor hostile when they saw her approach. In fact, they seemed quite at ease, as if she was a frequent visitor.

Alerted by one of the druids about a guest's arrival, Mousesack emerged from the cave and strolled toward the approaching girl.

"Cirilla! As glad as I am to see you, child, is it wise to travel alone? Or Avallac'h allows it?"

She smiled when she caught Mousesack's gaze and dismounted her horse. "I do not ask his permission. He is not my father," she responded, a tad irked by how everybody presumed the elf was her new guardian. "I needed fresh air and some time for myself. The mare led me here. Perhaps she has made the journey before?"

"Many a horse at the castle knows the path," he nodded, stroking his beard while his sharp eyes studied her closely. "How are you doing, child? Is everything good with you?"

"Of course," she said, and then immediately after: "I feel, um, trapped." Ciri met his gaze again, smiling sadly. "Remember when I was Cirilla of Cintra? When I was still a person? I am not anymore. I am only Hen Ichaer now. Elder Blood. It's all anyone sees."

A faint pensive smile, a bit sad, slipped over the druid's mouth. He put a hand on her back lightly, coaxing to stroll with him.

"Do you remember how you disliked being Cirilla of Cintra and dreamed of being someone else? Someone who didn't have to dance and wear dresses and marry a prince?"

She fell into step beside him, nodding slowly. "I do. Though I did not think the alternative would be forced pregnancies, torment, and captivity. I would have preferred something in the middle." A feeble attempt at a joke. "I suppose I should have been more careful. Careful what you wish for, is that not the saying?"

Ciri was silent another moment before she decided to shift the conversation to something more pleasant. "And you, dear Mousesack? How are you?"

_Had you stayed with the dryads, it would be the same forced responsibilities_, Mousesack thought, but said nothing. He smiled at her question.

"I'm well, no concerns about it. The main concern comes from our predicament, until we resolve it."

He heaved a sigh as they settled on a sun-warmed rock. The wind was chilly, but the sun here on elevation shone bright and hot from the cloudless sky.

"You don't have to be trapped in being a bag of elder blood, Ciri," he said, directing his kind gaze to her. "You are so much more, the real you that you might be feeling you lost. Perhaps you need to get a moment for yourself, pick a beautiful place and remember yourself from the moments when you felt the happiest. Because if you feel lost, you will not win the battle that's to come."

She fell into silence once more, considering his words and the truth they held. "At the very least, it can't hurt," she said eventually, turning to look at the old man. "Would you mind if I leave the horse here for a while? I should like to take a walk. Make use of my body."

A look of concern crept through the druid's features, but he nodded. "Of course, do as you will, child, but be very careful not to stray too far. Given the times and trials of present, we cannot be too careful, it seems. Gods be with ye."

"And with you," she said, though she did not rightly know if she believed in any Gods. She got to her feet and brushed herself off, heading for the path creeping into the forest behind the camp. She did not know this area too well, but she was not entirely unfamiliar either. She remembered exploring the forests and mountains with Hjalmar when they were children. A simpler time.

When the path came to an end and she was faced with the option to stray deeper into the forest or climb the rocks ahead, she chose the latter. She wanted to see the sky. To see Ard Skellig from up high. The view did not disappoint her. Like with Mousesack before, she found a rock to sit on where she admired the spectacular landscape beneath her, the sun reflecting off the ocean in tiny glints far, far away.

She ran her fingers over the bracelet Avallac'h had returned to her that morning, gently rubbing the green stone whilst whispering to the wind that breezed around her. "Please return to me, Kelpie. Please come home." Avallac'h had been right to warn her not to get her hopes up, for the mare had been lost to her several years ago. But Ciri could not help herself. She missed her. Before the elf, she had been Ciri's sole companion. Her only true friend. And Ciri wanted so badly for the horse to still be alive.

* * *

Geralt went after Mousesack as soon as Yennefer and Dandelion disappeared into the portal. He didn't linger, and after a brief goodbye he headed for the stables. Better get that head start for the druid camp.

The weather was chilly but sunny, and the ride was as pleasant as it could be here on Skellige Isles.

The druids met him with smiles and invitations for lunch.

"Cirilla's been here a bit ago," Mousesack said. "Avallac'h's training didn't hold her. Her ordeal is bothering her a lot, Geralt. She needs to find inner peace before she faces the Wild Hunt. But I'm uncertain how to help her. She keeps to herself and doesn't open up much."

Geralt observed the woods, feeling troubled. "If only I knew how to help her with that. I'm trying, but this Hunt hanging over us like an axe ready to fall on her head is in the way."

"I see," Mousesack sighed, stroking his beard. "She cannot think of anything else. Probably it is why their trainings don't hold her attention nor enthusiasm. It is too much trouble for one head so young."

"It's hard to be the chosen one," the Witcher muttered. "A curse."

"Indeed."

* * *

When sitting still atop the mountain became unbearably cold, Ciri got up and began her descent. She should have asked Mousesack to lend her a cloak before she left, but it was too late now. At least there was no snow today.

She veered off the path she'd walked before, seeking shelter from the wind amongst the trees, walking in the direction of a small clearing she could see up ahead.

She was adjusting her gloves when a loud growl rippled through the woods. Ciri froze, gaze darting around her immediate surroundings for signs of danger. There appeared to be none, but she knew better than to let her guard down simply because everything seemed fine.

She pulled her sword, Swallow, from its sheath on her back and carefully, silently, stepped closer towards the clearing. She stuck to the treeline, comfortable with the amount of coverage they gave her as she observed the beast she had now happened upon.

A griffin, part lion, part eagle. Male by the looks of his size and plumage. Beautiful creatures, in truth, but they were spectacular hunters and well known for toying with their prey. Right now, it was feeding on what appeared to be a deer. It was still alive, but only just. Enough to keep the griffin's attention from swaying Ciri's way.

Ciri swallowed and tightened her hold on the sword. A witcher would undoubtedly attack the creature should he happen upon it. Except maybe Geralt, who seemed to have a more altruistic outlook than most. He didn't care for killing just for the sake of killing, or to make monsters suffer just because he could. And as of right now, Ciri was unsure if any action on her part was necessary.

Should it see her, she had no doubt it'd attack. But if she could just sneak away… How could she murder something that had yet to give her cause for violence?

Did Mousesack know of this specimen, she wondered? Did Crach? Griffins were rarely seen this far north. She assumed they'd have heard had it taken any humans.

Cautiously and with deliberately slow movements, Ciri took a step back. And then another, briefly lowering her sword as she backed away. Until a brittle branch cracked beneath her foot and instantly gave her location away. The griffin's head snapped up and it turned around, peering in her direction. It did not take long before those shrewd eyes found their target. The beast shrieked as if in fury, sending a shiver down her back, and advanced. It moved rapidly and she automatically took a few more steps back, raising her sword anew to prepare for the battle she did not want.

The griffin swiped at her with his giant clawed paw once it was close enough to touch and forced her to dive out of the way. She rolled onto her shoulders and back and got back on her feet in one fluid motion, sword still raised in defense. The griffin paused as if assessing the situation, making her think she might be able to get out of this without having to shed blood, after all.

Another earthshattering shriek pierced the clearing.

She winced and resigned herself. No such luck.

Another screech sounded somewhere close by, and what happened next left Ciri truly befuddled. The griffin's attention flitted to the trees to her right for a mere brief moment, before it rushed back into the clearing, picked up the remains of the slaughtered deer, and took off into the sky.

Then… all was quiet.

It took Ciri a good few seconds before she lowered her sword, twirling slowly on the spot to examine every direction. She'd seen the griffin take off towards the mountains. There were rarely humans there so she didn't fear anyone was in immediate danger.

That other screech, though… Did it have a mate? Hatchlings somewhere? That could prove dangerous for the inhabitants of Ard Skellig. And why on earth had the griffin come here in the first place so close to winter? Was it sick? Confused?

Ciri pushed herself to move, to examine the area more carefully. There was nothing of interest in the clearing. Only flattened grass and blood from the deer. It was amongst the trees she found a clue. A dead rabbit. Its neck was broken and she saw no outward damage to it. That was also strange for a griffin's prey.

Finally, she put her sword away and picked up the rabbit, casually hanging it from her belt as she moved to climb the mountain where the griffin had disappeared to. Her curiosity was piqued now.

From a vantage point on a high branch of a tree not far from the clearing, someone watched her stroll through the woods. His rabbit hung on her belt. She didn't seem to be wanting to get away.

Shouldn't have saved her, he thought in a brief fit of disappointed anger. She was clearly about to track the beast.

He let her walk for a while, following on cat's feet while putting an arrow on his bow and keeping far enough to stay hidden but staying on her track. As soon as he made sure she moved toward the mountains, he crept closer, took aim and shot. The arrow stuck in a trunk on her eye-level. She must have felt the whoosh of air as it did. She whirled around, ducking, but he wasn't hiding, aiming at her with his next potential shot. He scowled noticing a witcher pendant hanging on her chest.

_That explains it._

"Turn back now or I won't miss next time."

Ciri sucked in a sharp breath when she recognized the rush of an arrow, watching as it embedded itself deep within the trunk of a tree. That had been too close to her head for her liking.

She whirled around to search for the person who owned it and found him immediately, standing a short distance away, another arrow notched in his bow.

The threat to her life seemed unimportant for a few moments as she examined him, for something was nudging at the back of her mind, trying to make her remember.

He was a stranger. But she _knew_ him, nonetheless. There was something about him. Something highly familiar about his beautiful face and the color of his hair.

_Same as mine._

"It's you," she muttered, more to herself than anyone. The man from her dream. The one who had kept her nightmares at bay. How strange. Had it been a vision? A message from destiny herself? Did that mean this moment was important?

She tore her gaze off his face and onto the arrow aimed her way, raising one brow as if she'd only just noticed it. "Turn back from what?"

He caught her muttering, and it stupefied him what it could possibly mean. He was certain she couldn't have seen him before anywhere. Especially on the isles where he had arrived a day before.

"Go back to your village where you came from."

Where she came from? Originally or today? Ciri decided not to ask. It hardly mattered.

Didn't mean she was not irked by his insistence of giving her orders, however. "Why? What gives you more of a right to wander this land than me?"

"You're not wandering," he corrected. "You're tracking. You can't win this alone, so turn back."

Ah. So that was _his_ beast. Stranger and stranger. She'd never known anyone to have tamed a griffin before.

Ciri slowly detached the rabbit from her belt and threw it his way, close enough that he would only need to take a few steps should he decide to collect it. "You dropped your dinner."

She moved to the side, for if he truly wanted her gone, she had to step around him. She never turned her back and never took her eyes off him or his arrow, gracefully maneuvering her way off the path leading to the mountain. "I take it the "dragon" is yours?"

He didn't even look at the rabbit and scowled in distaste at how she labeled the beast as "his" - so human.

"I own no dragons. Go now."

"You were seen," she said. "Village is buzzing. I happened upon you by coincidence, but others might come. Take care."

She was not entirely sure why it even mattered. Perhaps she simply saw something in his situation she could apply to her own past. There had once been an animal she'd been willing to kill for, as well. She understood.

Ciri backed away, further and further, but never took her eyes off of him. Not until he was finally out of view.

She put her back to the trunk of a tree and inhaled deeply, pushing down the instinct she had felt to defend herself using magical means. It would have meant the death of them both. Of everyone.

She stayed a short while, making sure he was not following, that he did not intend to fire an arrow in her back. And when she was certain, she went, making her way back down towards the druid camp.

He lowered the bow when she was out of sight and exhaled, letting the strain finally loosen his muscles a little as he put the weapon on his back along the sword. He picked up the rabbit and followed the girl's trail to make sure she truly went back. Her words about the possibility of a hunting party buzzed around his head. Perhaps they would be leaving sooner than he thought. Or they would have to pick another island.

* * *

"What was it?" Geralt asked, peering at the forest with alarm. The sounds reminded of a beast - more likely something bird-like.

Mousesack looked worried, staring in the same direction. "I have no idea, but Ciri went to walk in the woods.

Geralt took off before the Druid said anything else, expertly picking his path in the direction he recalled the sounds came from. After some minutes of sprinting - when the camp was far behind – he ran into Ciri.

They looked equally wary and surprised as they regarded each other. The Witcher scanned her from head to toe.

Ciri blinked up at Geralt once they quite literally collided with one another. Today was full of surprises. "Geralt? What are you–?" He cut her off, his gaze lifting over her head and to the trees behind her.

"You all right?" he asked. "What was that scream?"

He peered behind her, scanning the trunks and shrubs.

She assumed a pleasantly neutral expression, linking her arm through his and attempting to turn him back in the direction he had come, deciding to ignore his question entirely. "I thought you'd all gone already. What are you doing here?"

Geralt became an unmovable rock as she tried to sway him. He knew that look - she was hiding something.

And he thought he glimpsed that something far behind it. As if something slipped back and deeper into the woods. His body itched to chase.

"Don't play with me, Ciri. You were being followed. What happened? What is out there?"

In her failure to turn him Ciri braced her hands on his chest because just as he knew her, she knew him. He had that predatory look in his eyes.

She still was not entirely certain why she felt the need to protect the archer, why she even should. But those were her instincts. And she never could fight them. "Nothing worth pursuing. I am not harmed, nor was I going to be," she told him evenly, attempting to catch his gaze. "Hey… You trust me, don't you?"

Geralt spared her a short glance, still holding the spot where the pursuer disappeared. Geralt was still tempted to find out himself.

What if there was a trap? Elves or witches - anyone could have laid down one.

"Only when you tell me the truth. And you elude the answers. I can find out myself, so better tell me."

Ciri sighed and spoke quietly, calmly. "It was just a boy defending his friend. We ran into each other, all got scared, exchanged a few idle threats, then went our separate ways. All unharmed. Everything is fine. I know the whole lot of you think me incapable of simply taking a walk through the forest without running into trouble or impaling myself on my sword," she added grumpily. "But that is untrue. I am fine."

Scowling, Geralt processed the tale and found it unlikely and too strange. So much so that she took her eyes off the woods behind her to focus on her face.

"It didn't sound like a boy. And what boy could be out there? The woods are dangerous for kids."

Ciri groaned because he was getting stuck on the details. "Man, then! My age."

She watched him and couldn't tell whether or not he intended to pursue what he perceived to be a threat. Taking her hands off him, she stepped around him and backed down towards the camp. "But you do what you must. Why would my judgement matter?"

"No human makes a sound like that, Ciri," he said, grimly serious. "Boy or man. Unless it's a creature that lures you with a look of human. You of all people know that. So why are you taking me for a fool?"

"Because I don't want you to go in there!" This was shouted; that infamous temper rearing its ugly head. Ciri realized at once and regretted it, squeezed her eyes shut and breathed. To calm the buzzing in her ears, to still the sensation of electricity rippling under her skin. Like Avallac'h had taught her. "I can't explain how I know. But there is no danger. Only someone who wants to be left alone. So, please, Geralt, leave it. I need you to trust me."

Her outburst baffled him: had it been as simple, she'd be calmer and explained in detail. But she was trying to hide it instead.

"You don't want me to go but do little to tell me what is out there. What creature is out there, Ciri? And why are you protecting it when you can't explain your feelings? You know how many creatures can make one behave so? Enchant and subdue to their will and then you won't be able to explain why you did what you did?"

Ciri laughed; weak and feeble, without any real humor because none of this was funny. Would he even believe her if she told him? That she'd met a griffin who hunted deer rather than the druids nearby? Who had some sort of emotional connection to a mysterious archer? So much so it obeyed commands and signals?

"I am not enchanted nor subdued and I resent that accusation. But I know what it is like to have to hide from the world, to be wary of anyone and everyone."

The archer had not looked like he was from Skellige. Perhaps he'd been forced to flee from his true home because of the griffin? It was not only Witchers who hunted them, after all. "And there were so many times I wished, no, prayed, that those who saw me, those who noticed, would keep my secret. That they would not repeat what they had seen to others and let the word spread. This is not my secret. I have no right to share it."

Geralt stared at her long and hard, then nudged her to walk ahead of him with a hand. He threw another glance at the woods before following. This had to be looked into, but apparently not this very moment.

"Secrets like that can be dangerous for all parties, Ciri," Geralt reasoned quietly. "If there is someone in need of help out there, we could provide it before something bad happens."

* * *

Zoltan, unlike Geralt, didn't mind being portaled, so he and Yennefer had no need for the horses. They appeared in the middle of the druids' camp. Fortunately none of them reacted – not to Zoltan at least. As soon as they recognized her, there seemed to be a hum of disagreement and discord. She guessed they still hadn't forgiven her for the artefact she had stolen.

The sorceress paid no mind, going in search of Geralt and Ciri, Zoltan on her heels.

Some of the tension eased off Ciri's shoulder when Geralt seemingly gave in to her pleas. For now at least. Ciri walked him down towards the camp. "I know." Though she doubted the archer would let anyone close enough to talk. He hadn't seemed in the mood for company.

"I don't mean to keep things from you. But there is a feeling – the kind of feeling that warns me when something unpleasant is about to happen, or when I can see glimpses of someone's past without ever having known them – that this is best left alone for now. And those instincts have never let me down yet. I must trust them. And I wish you could trust me as well."

"What glimpses are you talking about? Did something of the sort happen here? You have… visions?" It brought him back to the memories of her blacking out in those horrifying trances. The idea of them being back scared him a lot.

"It happens," Ciri shrugged, unconcerned about that. "Sometimes in dreams. Sometimes it is just a feeling, telling me not to continue on my path, that danger awaits around the next bend.

"I had visions of you and Yennefer while with the Aen Elle. Of Yen being tormented by Vilgelfortz and you freezing to death in some horrid blizzard. And I knew it was the truth." She paused, silent a while. "They come and go."

Dreams, Geralt thought. She was having dreams like visions and she remembered them. Unlike with all the creepy visions she had in those trances as a child. Perhaps it wasn't too bad and was just another manifestation of her powers. Something she still couldn't control. He wondered if Avallac'h ever tried to help her with those aside from the world-jumping.

The appearance of Yennefer heading towards them up the path, stunned her further. Pleased her, certainly, but puzzled, nonetheless.

"Why are you still here? Are you staying?"

Yennefer walked toward them with Zoltan in tow.

"We took our time," Zoltan replied to Ciri. "Came to see ye before we went. Something happened? Why ye here?"

"No, we're not staying," Yennefer supplied as they walked up to the two. "Unless we should?" It hadn't taken him much to know that something was being discussed between the two. "Everything fine?" she asked, mimicking Zoltan's question in a way. She hadn't been gone that long that there was a possibility of trouble, was there?

"I went for a walk to clear my mind. Everything is fine."

Ciri looked around Yennefer, expecting to see Dandelion skip along behind her. He didn't. "Left the troubadour with Mousesack?"

Geralt looked back at the trees and shrubs, scanning them to make sure that person or creature didn't linger behind.

"Took him back to Novigrad." Yennefer followed Geralt's gaze to the trees, having taken a peek into his mind—as he hated—to see what she was missing so that she wouldn't be clueless. "You sure?" she asked once more, reaching for Ciri's face, moving to pull her into a hug, expelling a sigh as if to say 'don't answer that'. "Are you sure you're going to be fine without us?"

Ciri wanted them to stay. She wanted that more than anything. But she also knew the work they were going to in Novigrad was important. "Of course. I'm always okay," she murmured into her hair, hugging her back. "Let's just get this whole Hunt thing over with. Take a two day break before we have to start all over again with the next enemy."

Another attempt at a weak joke. And yet, there was truth to it. It would never stop. She was certain of that.

"Let's just go back to the camp for a start," Geralt said and led the way.

"Two days only?" Yennefer asked into her hair. It felt like they should take a lifetime break after everything they'd endured and would endure going forward. Yennefer pressed a kiss to her hair, releasing her so they could link arms, walking beside her slowly as they headed back to camp.

Mousesack met them with a worried frown. "Ye all fine? What happened out there?"

"I should ask you the same thing," Geralt said and pointed at the woods behind them. "What's out there?"

"Wolves, bears, trolls, nekkers, many things," Mousesack said. "You name it. You know all that."

"Not what I meant," the Witcher said and looked at Ciri.

Mousesack did not look happy to see Yennefer, his frown carefully in place and etched to his features like stone. He answered Geralt's questions politely enough – ones that made Yennefer want to know more of what they'd missed. She glanced behind her and then met Ciri's gaze questioningly.

"Were you hunting out there?"

Ciri tried to evade Geralt's gaze, but Yennefer managed to catch her eyes. "No. I was walking," she said, moving away a little from the group to warm her cold hands over the fire and drape the deer pelts over her shoulders.

"She met someone – or something – in the woods," the Witcher said quietly when Ciri went away toward the bonfire. He looked between Yennefer and Mousesack. "She doesn't want to talk about it. So I'm asking you, Mousesack, what is out there?"

The Druid stiffened, undecided, and grunted into his moustache. "Nothing that would harm her, Geralt. You have my word."

Zoltan cursed quietly. "What kind of secrets are there, old druid? Ye keep some ghost ye wanna hide?"

"It's not a ghost," Mousesack scoffed. "He's a half-elf, taking refuge here from the main land. He wouldn't harm anyone."

"How well do you know him?" Geralt asked.

"As well as I know you, Geralt. You have my word."

If that's all it was, they why was Geralt questioning what she'd said, his energy giving off waves of concern. Mousesack appeared to take pity on him thankfully, alleviating of Yennefer's fears.

She moved to Geralt's side, taking a hold of his hand, squeezing it lightly although she knew the simple act wouldn't and wasn't going to be as calming as it might have been in the past.

"If Ermion says that he's of no risk – then we can believe him." He didn't have any ill will toward Ciri and had never been anything but good to her. "He wouldn't put Ciri in harm's way."

Geralt knew that despite his own concerns. Yennefer left him to it though, striding over to Ciri.

"What's your take on the boy?"

Ciri glanced sharply at Mousesack, surprised, though she shouldn't have been. Of course the Druid knew. He knew everything that happened on this island.

She returned her gaze to the fire, listening as they spoke. Half-elf? Explained the hair. Elven genes. And as she suspected, he was in hiding.

She didn't look up until Yennefer spoke her name. She shrugged.

"Does it matter? No matter my opinion you'd all still think him a threat of some sort."

"Of course it matters," Yennefer said, ignoring her petulant grievance. Ciri wasn't giving any kind of energy to suggest that she'd felt threated by the boy. "But you're right. We worry about you. We have every right to. It's not as if it's without cause."

Zoltan scratched his head, glancing after Yennefer and Ciri, then peered at Mousesack. "What's that story? Yer giving harbor to fugitive elves now, eh?"

"If he needs a refuge, it means he did things he's wanted for," Geralt said.

"He's wanted for being a halfblood," Mousesack said. "And that's all. He's not fond of humans or company in general because of that. He wouldn't harm the girl, but wouldn't encourage her to stay around, either."

"What was the screeching cry?" Geralt asked. Zoltan looked surprised.

Mousesack shrugged. "Woods make sounds, Geralt. There's a lot of animals and creatures out there. Leave it. She's not going back there. Don't worry about it."

Yennefer eased an arm around her waist, to hug Ciri to her side, a slow smile on her lips. "There a reason you didn't just come out and say that's what you saw out there?"

Ciri didn't like the insinuation in Yennefer's voice. It brought a flush of pink to her cheeks and she didn't truly know why. "Wasn't my secret to tell," she said simply, repeating what she'd told to Geralt earlier. "Can we focus on the mission at hand now? You have to work quickly. The longer you're gone, the longer I have to spend 'training' with Avallac'h. And that's not going to well. We might kill each other before The Hunt can even reach us."

"Wasn't it?" Yennefer asked, ignoring her attempts to push onto the next topic for a moment. Ciri had to know what the unknown would do to Geralt's mind, especially now, on the brink of war. Every little thing was a threat and had to be seen to. It didn't matter that it was harmless.

"You've survived the mage two years. A day or two isn't going to make much difference."

Although given what little Yennefer knew about him, she had to admit she was surprised Ciri'd survived the elf this long. Yennefer'd have tired of him quickly.

"Would you like Zoltan to stay?"

She knew they needed him, that Geralt had plans for him, but if he was able to stay, to put Ciri at ease and give her another option for a reprieve to be able to take a break from the elf, then so be it.

Yennefer wanted that for her and wanted her to feel as if it was her choice this time.

Ciri eyed the dwarf in question, gauging whether or not he'd be able to hear them from here. Then shook her head. "He'll be of more use to you in Novigrad."

Besides, it felt as though the only reason Yennefer even presented the option to begin with, was so that he could keep an eye on Ciri. Ciri was rather tired of being watched. She preferred solitude to guards.

"I'll stop worrying when there are no secrets or dangers around her, which, by the look of things, is not today," Geralt said, folding his arms, eyeballing Mousesack. "How do you know him so well?"

The Druid sighed and lowered on a moss-covered trunk of a fallen tree that served as a bench. "He spent some years in Brokilon under the Queen Eithne's protection."

"Was he on their murderous spree, as well?" Geralt inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Mousesack scowled. "They never ventured out to kill, you know that."

"But they did kill a lot of innocents along with soldiers," Zoltan added, folding his arms. "The dryads and whoever they took under their wing can't be dismissed as harmless folk."

"This boy shall not harm anyone. He left Brokilon a while ago."

"Fine," Geralt concluded. "Just pray it stays this way you say, Mousesack."

"It will," the Druid said. "I don't feel he'll stay long, either. Just rest assured he and Ciri will not cross paths."

Geralt nodded.

"I'm going to be fine," Ciri assured her. "It's you lot who has to worry. Novigrad is no place for those who are… different."

Yennefer supposed that he would be, that they could use everything hand possibly available to get a hold of Philippa, especially since she didn't want to be found.

"We've navigated Novigrad for years. Then, now, makes no difference – we know our way around. Besides, we've eyes there to watch our backs and fronts as needed."

Yennefer squeezed her shoulders, taking advantage of the closeness, of their time together while she could and then peered at the group of men, raising her voice slightly to grab their attention.

"It's getting late—we'd best be on our way."

"Aye, time we get goin," Zoltan said, nodding as Yennefer approached. "That is if ye help us, Ermion."

"Of course," the Druid said. "I shall wait for your return or any news of where you want me. I shall help with everything I can during the battle."

"Thank you," Geralt said.

He nodded and opened the portal. "I believe it's the right location for you, Zoltan."

"I'm sure ye got it right just like before," the dwarf said, then bid them farewell and stepped in. The portal closed.

"Have a nice journey, good luck with your trials," the druid told them. "Don't worry about the girl, this place is as safe as it can be under the circumstances. For as long as she doesn't use her power, these islands will keep her secret." He nodded and started away toward his cave. The sun was beginning to set, the sky turned reddish.

Geralt went to Ciri to hug her before they left.

"Please, stay away from trouble," he asked when they pulled away from the embrace. A small smile played over his lips. "And those woods. Keep closer to people you know, all right?"

Ciri wrapped an arm around Yennefer in return and hugged her, letting go only when she stepped aside to allow Geralt to embrace her, too. "I'll be safe," Ciri promised, though she knew it was one she couldn't truly give. Safety never came easily to her. "I'll be cautious," she amended. "If you promise the same."

"We've never failed you on it before," Geralt said, smirking. "We raised you at Kaer Morhen under the same principles each of us witchers has been raised before you. Caution, reason, thinking before doing – all those are habits since early on. Just don't let your emotions make you forgo any of them." He pulled her for a kiss to her forehead, then let go. "I love you very much."

Leaving her behind this time hurt dozens of times more than the day before. It tugged at his very soul with intense pain as he stepped through the portal.

Yennefer waited until both Geralt and Zoltan had slipped into the portal, their mere presence within the magic barrier having pulled at her, weakening her slightly, insisting she go.

She blew her a kiss, offered a finger wave and then stepped inside, swallowed by the swirl of gold light.

"I love you always," Ciri whispered, watching them disappear into the portal.

She wasn't sure if she should stay and talk to Mousesack. No doubt he would tell her what Geralt had.

_Stay away from the boy._

And she intended to. She thought she intended to.

But then… "Mousesack?"

Ciri followed him to his cave.

Mousesack turned to the sound of the girl's voice, a bit surprised. "You want something, child?"

"The archer in the woods. The half-elf," she began, coming to a halt just inside the entrance. "He came last night?"

Mousesack sighed, shaking his head subtly. "He arrived the night before. Why does it interest you? His presence in that forest influences nothing, my dear child. Let your mind rest easy."

"My mind doesn't rest easy," Ciri admitted. "You said he was in the Brokilon Forest with Queen Eithne. Would he have been there when I was?"

"No," he said firmly. "No, he wasn't. You have never met before, I assure you."

Ciri nodded slowly, not sure if she was relieved or concerned about that answer. "Alright. Thank you, Mousesack."

She turned to leave, seeking her horse with her gaze amongst the other few animals at this camp.

"Cirilla," the Druid called, his eyes gleaming with concern in the light of candles. "Your mind could never rest easy once a spark of curiosity was ignited there. That never changed. And it's not too bad a trait, except for when curiosity leads to something utterly different from your anticipation. If I can help you sate that unease in your mind – ask. He will not take your curiosity kindly. I advise you do not try. Not because you can't protect yourself, but because he might happen to be better at it."

Ciri paused in the entryway, kept her back to him as he spoke. She bristled slightly at his last statement. "Because I cannot use my powers?" She shook her head, immediately regretting bringing that up. "Never mind. That's not important. I–"

Silence again, uncertainty of how to ask or even if she should. After a few long seconds she stepped back towards him, awarding them more privacy than had she stayed in the cave-opening. "He was in my dreams. The archer. Last night. For years I've had nightmares, every time I sleep. For as long as I can remember. But last night… there was just him. So when I saw him in the forest I was… surprised."

She looked up at the Druid from under her lashes, watching him in the semi-darkness. "Do you think it means something?"

Mousesack was indeed surprised. And more troubled. He hummed pensively, pacing slowly across the room while he reflected. Then turned back to the girl: "You saw his so clearly that you recognized him? How close did he get to you? It's a wonder you even saw him. Knowing him, he'd stay out of sight."

"Close enough," she said, frowning softly as if trying to conjure the memory. "And it was more than his looks. It was a feeling. You know the one." He had to. He was a mage, too. He should understand intuition and magical instinct more than anyone. "There's a familiarity. And I may not be a master sorceress but I do know my own powers well enough to know when something is out of the ordinary. Important. That dream… it was the most relief I have felt in years. Like a safe space where I could not be touched. Not by memories, not by visions of the future, not by Eredin. It was just… quiet."

Mousesack was peering at her with concerned sympathy. "I do understand what you feel, child. It can be your power reaching out to some images without explanations. You can cross space and time, Ciri, and your power can summon images of things and people you don't know. It doesn't necessarily mean that you two have a connection. It might not be what it seems, even if it feels so, because you haven't felt it before. You feel that you're in danger – rightfully so – and your mind, your soul, your power reach out in search of salvation, solution, anything. Any hope. What comes in the dreams cannot always mean what it seems. You understand?"

The Druid sighed and let on a small sad smile.

"He might have seemed like peace in your dream, but he is anything but that in reality."

Ciri watched him for a long moment and though some of his explanation made sense, it still didn't sit right with her. Something about it was off. "Is that the truth?" she asked softly, smiling a little. "Or what you wish it to be?"

One of them was wishing and only one could get what they wanted. She just didn't know which one of them it was yet.

She nodded again, slowly. "I shall take that under consideration. Meditate on it, as Avallac'h would say."

"If you ask about my assessment of him – yes, it is the truth. I would not deceive you. It would be best for you to forget it and find peace in people that love you, my child." The Druid embraced her, kissed her head, and stepped back. "Go with peace and gods."


	6. Chapter 6

Ciri found her mare and steered her back in the direction of Kaer Trolde, not dawdling this time because the cold had already seeped into her bones. She really needed to find some garments more appropriate for winter. It was not a bad strategy to have when facing the Wild Hunt either, especially considering one of the mages, Caranthir Ar-Feiniel, was gifted with elemental magic and strongly preferred ice.

Within the hour she was back at the village, with numb fingers and chattering teeth. The stable boys took the mare from her and absolved her of the responsibility to tend to her needs, for which Ciri was grateful.

Avallac'h found her before long, standing out like some sort of beautiful lighthouse among the drunken revelers still celebrating their new Queen.

"Zireael," he said, grasping her by the shoulders, a look of true concern in his pale blue eyes. She'd expected a lecture. Or at the very least to be bombarded with questions of where she had been and who she had spent her time with. Everyone seemed to want to know that. But he surprised her and didn't ask. Perhaps he already knew. He was Aen Saevherne, after all. He knew things others did not.

"You are freezing," he said, removing his cloak and draping it around her. "Come."

He led her up towards the castle and Ciri did not fight him. She was tired, and like he'd said, absolutely freezing.

"I have arranged a room for you next to mine. Seeing as your Witcher and Sorceress have left. We must stay close in case we need to move quickly."

She did not argue this, either. It made sense.

Avallac'h showed her to her new quarters. Fancier than the inn, for sure, but not so luxurious she could not make herself feel at home.

"I will send someone to provide a hot bath for you," he said. "When you finish, come to my rooms for dinner."

She neither agreed nor disagreed and simply sat on her bed, watching as two female servants entered after the elf had left, filling the beautiful stone tub with warm, steaming water. Ciri declined their offer to help her undress and wash. She was not a cripple.

Once they left as well, she disrobed and slowly climbed into the water. It stung at first, as it always does when cold meets hot. But soon she was very comfortable. She leaned her head back and rested, allowing her eyes to fall shut.

* * *

The world has gone dark. Even with the blazing fires of the battlefield. There are fallen bodies all around; soldiers and civilians, witchers and sorceresses. There are familiar faces amongst those that no longer move. Dandelion. Zoltan. Lambert. Triss.

Ciri whimpers and tries to reach for them but her arms are too heavy. She is still in the bath and the water is holding her fast, not allowing her to move.

And there is someone in here with her. Behind her. A warm, male body with lean muscles and soft skin. She can smell him. She knows who he is.

"Me elaine luned," he whispers hotly into her ear, his arms wrapping around her, hands gliding over her curves. "I will find you. I will always find you."

She inhales a trembling breath, the rest of her body following suit. Even though she cannot see his face, she knows he is smiling. That dangerous smile that once made her stomach flutter with girlish fascination.

"And you want that, don't you? You desire this." His hand moves between her thighs.

Ciri whimpers once more, for a different reason than before. There is pleasure, yes. Arousal. But also fear. A fear that renders her unable to speak.

She stares straight ahead and watch as the riders of the Wild Hunt emerge onto the battlefield. Victorious. Dragging two prisoners behind them.

Geralt. Yennefer.

Her heart trashes against her ribcage in an almost violent manner.

_No, not them. Please no._

"Give yourself to me," Eredin whispers, his legs parting hers further, one hand collaring her throat. "Give yourself to me, Zireael. And then you can rest."

She can not tear her eyes off her parents, bloodied and battered, swords at their throats, their gazes pleading with her to do something.

Her own vision is blurred by tears. When the blades cut through skin and flesh, when the riders sever their heads from their shoulders, Ciri screams. She tries to scream. But no sound emerges. There is only Eredin's voice.

"You belong to us." His hand tightens around her throat so severely she can feel her flesh bruise. At the same time, a new and unfamiliar pain erupts from her lower abdomen as he enters her.

He groans.

She cannot breathe.

_"Zireael."_

"Zireael!"

She jolted awake, water splashing around her as her hand shot out to fight the person who had taken hold of her shoulders, fingers locking tight around a pale throat.

Avallac'h.

She released her hold on the elf, hands trembling. All of her trembling.

He seemed unperturbed by the unwarranted attack, more worried about her condition than his own. "You were screaming," he said calmly. "I am surprised the whole castle did not hear you. What happened?"

What had happened? She pushed her wet hair away from her face, sitting up, giving her surroundings a quick study. "I… I must have fallen asleep."

Avallac'h said nothing as if expecting she had more to share. She did not want to, for the mere memory brought tears to her eyes. Tears of fear and shame and sorrow.

She wept silently while the elf stood and gathered a blanket, wrapping her in it as he helped her out, then crushed her to his chest, allowing her to spill her tears on his silk robes.

* * *

Half an hour later, they were sat in front of the lit fire in Avallac'h's rooms. The Queen had been kind enough to donate some clothes: winter armor among them which Avallac'h had promised to help her tailor to her own specifications. Right now, however, Ciri was wearing something as silly as a nightgown. A floor-length white nightgown. She could not remember the last time she had even worn something so similar to a dress. She did not much care for it but as her own clothes had been taken away to be laundered, the servants of the castle had not left her much choice.

She sat on the floor, staring into the fire. Avallac'h perched on a chair behind her, detangling her wet hair and separating some of it into braids. Elven, if she were not mistaken. That man had many hidden talents.

She had not told him about her dream. Her vision. Whatever it had been. But she got the distinct feeling he knew anyway. Perhaps not all the details, but enough to know what was bothering her.

"Avallac'h?"

"Yes?"

"Are you certain we cannot defeat The White Frost until after we have defeated Eredin?"

"I am. It will take a great display of power to defeat The Frost. The Hunt would find you in an instance. Why do you ask?"

Ciri lifted her shoulders in a hapless shrug, tired. "If I were to defeat The Frost, I'd have done my duty. Completed my mission. And then I could just… end it."

His hands stopped moving. "It?"

"Myself. The Wild Hunt would never get what they wanted. Nor would anyone else trying to use my powers for nefarious reasons. The world itself would not be in danger. And my friends, my… the ones I love would no longer be hunted."

Avallac'h turned her around to face him and caught her chin in his hand, his eyes stern. "Do not even think such thoughts. Do you hear me?"

He softened a little and let her go, finishing up the braid he was working on.

"You are tired, child. You must get some rest."

She was tired. But sleep could not remedy it. She already knew that. Still, she did not argue. She got to her feet once he deemed her hair decent.

"Do you wish to stay here?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I wish to be alone."

"Very well. Rest. I will send someone with your dinner later."

She nodded and took her leave of him, heading back to her own rooms.

The tub had been drained and her new clothing had been laid out atop her bed. Ciri examined it, testing what would already fit her and what would need adjustments. She had no intention of laying down. Of making herself vulnerable again so soon. And the sight of the armor thrilled her a little. She'd never had her own.

Ciri cast a look out the window to gauge the placement of the sun. The tailors should still be in business. Unless they were too drunk to work.

She pulled the nightgown off and replaced it with leather trousers and a green shirt. People always insisted on gifting her with green items. She pulled on her boots and her new winter cloak, gathered the pieces of armor that needed tending to, then quietly and stealthily left the castle, unwilling to be stopped on her way.

* * *

He wasn't going to take a horse, but Ermion insisted that travelling on foot was going to be suspicious. The half-blood elf archer would disagree but then there was no point in arguing, especially after the lecture of how reckless he'd been and how he should stay away from the Witcher girl.

He let the horse pick its path - it seemed to know where the town was - and enjoyed the views under the orange glow of the setting sun. The land was beautiful, but cold. Especially at night.

His thoughts kept returning to the girl, her medallion, her unusual ashen hair and the scar crossing her cheek. He wasn't happy she had seen him, but the way she tried to stop her witcher friend from venturing into the wood surprised him in a pleasant way. It rarely happened.

She wasn't a true witcher, either - her aura betrayed the lack of mutation her older friend had. But she had something, a magic of her own.

He pushed the thoughts away and marveled at the field of flowers and the stony walls of the town gate visible ahead. He wasn't looking forward to being around people, but he needed that new fur jacket before the next nightfall in a couple of hours. He pulled the hood of his cloak lower onto his forehead and pushed the white bangs from his eyes, riding past the chatting guards. They barely paid him any mind, accustomed to frequent guests from all around the islands in this time of celebration.

"Much thanks ye, young sir," the tailor grinned revealing three missing teeth (probably lost in a brawl). "We agreed on ten coins less tho, in case ye forget..." His eyes searched the Archer with a timid hope of a homeless dog that watches you eat in hopes of getting a bit tossed to it.

"I don't forget agreements once they're made, mate, so keep it. For speedy work."

The tailor beamed. "Much thanks! Much thanks ye, sir! It fit perfect, if I may say so. Wolves got it right in their pelts, ye sir. Fit for hardest winter and yet made light and thin as ye request."

"I can see that, you've done well." Even exceeding his low expectations for human crafters who lost by far to elven or halflings and dwarves. "Have a good night."

"Ye too, sir, ye too," he said into his back following him to the door. "I'll be closing for the night now. Take care in yer travel."

Ciri had to ask around for the tailor's and when she made it there she worried they had closed, after all. The street outside the house was positively abandoned.

She tried the door nonetheless, pleasantly surprised to find it open, and walked face first into another customer.

"Apologies," she murmured hastily, pausing only when she saw who she'd run into.

It was the Archer. She had not expected to see him here.

Their eyes locked and sent a thrill down the Archer's spine. He didn't expect to just bump into her, but then again, the island was impossibly small, it seemed.

Ciri blinked up at him for a few seconds before the tailor himself caught her attention.

"Sorry, lass, but we are closed for the evenin'."

He slipped past her as quickly as he could, trying not to touch her, and, while the tailor engaged her enough, hurried to the stables, pulling his hood on as he went. Thankfully, most people were already at the tavern or in their homes.

"What?" Ciri asked, forgetting for a moment why she had come, in the first place. "Oh. When do you open tomorrow?"

"Not sure," the tailor drawled. "Depends on how well tonight's festivities treat me." He grinned, displaying a few missing teeth.

She inhaled subtly, shifting the armor hanging from her arm. "Anyone else in this village who knows how to work with leather?"

The tailor scratched his chin in though. "No. No one comes to mind."

"I'll pay handsomely. More than your normal rate," she offered because gold was usually what was needed to sway people.

He considered that a moment, then caught eye of the bracelet on her wrist. "I s'pose I could postpone the party for an ample amount of coin. And that trinket there."

She followed his gaze, immediately shaking her head. "No. I offer coin, no more."

He smiled and shrugged. "Then check back again tomorrow."

She did not say another word, turned on her heel and exited through the open doorway.

Once outside, the archer was not hard to track. Another surprising fact, considering he was stealthier than most and he had pulled on his hood, concealing the hair she knew from experience would stand out even in the dark. It was as though she simply knew where he was going, as though he was holding one end or a chord and she the other.

Ciri caught up with him before he could reach the stables, not stopping or hindering his way but simply moving beside him, having to take larger steps than normal in order to keep up. "Were you in the Brokilon forest nine years ago?"

Another jolt passed through his nerves, spurring him to hasten his step.

No one but Ermion could have told her. _Why_ would he?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Someone was lying. It was either him or Ermion. "Have you seen me before?" Ciri asked, almost breaking into a jog to keep up with him. "Have we met somewhere? Before today?"

The Archer reached the stables and pulled his horse away from the hay, casting a quick glance at the girl. The ashen hair on her head shone with a copper halo of the setting sun.

"This is the second and the last time I see you. Go home, princess."

He hopped into the saddle and the horse dashed for the gate.

_Princess? How does he know? _

Or was it just a coincidental choice of words? Had Ermion told him? He was not supposed to.

Ciri stared after the archer's retreating form until she could no longer see him in the growing darkness.

Defeated, having achieved nothing of what she'd set out to do, she slowly retreated to the castle.

He rode like the wind until the village was far behind and the trail began to climb up the closer he got to the druids camp.

He slowed his mount to a walk, his mind reeling.

She had been to Brokilon, as well, then. But apparently before he came back there. He had truly never seen her before, and yet there was something in her that made him feel uneasy. He had never felt like it before around people he didn't know. Like she had a way to creep under his skin if he wouldn't be fast and firm enough to prevent it.

_Princess_... He scoffed; his horse snorted as if agreeing. Why would he even say that?

He growled and pushed the thought away. It wasn't important.

* * *

When the Witcher and the sorceress arrived to Dandelion's Cabaret, Vesemir was already gone. Priscilla informed them that the old witcher had set on his way back to the keep thinking that if the Wild Hunt had checked it, it had to be already gone.

"He said he would pick up the other two or three witchers on his way past the villages where they stayed," Priscilla said.

"We have to get to the keep before them and make sure there is no trap," Geralt told Yennefer. "If something's wrong, we can meet them halfway and turn back."

Yennefer nodded, satisfied that within the safety of the Cabaret, there wouldn't be anything to worry about in regard to opening a portal. Without hesitation, she imagined Kaer Morhen and its library, summoning their elusive means of travel with a quick motion of her hands.

To appear in its courtyard and to have the Wild Hunt soaring around wouldn't have worked in their favor. Although it held the witchers' most valuable information, it was one of the few places in the keep that was used frequently.

She waited on Geralt to finish up with Dandelion's lady fair and when he stepped through the portal, she followed.

They appeared in the expansive room on the second floor of the keep within an instant. Far as she could tell from her first look nothing about it had changed, none of its contents had been disturbed and it looked very close to what it had been the last time she'd been there. Not that she was surprised. The Wild Hunt had their own sources of information and didn't have need for what little the witchers had.

The immediate chill fanned over his face as he stepped through the portal. A faint nausea swirled in his gut and eased reluctantly.

Geralt was never getting used to portals.

He looked around the library and headed quietly for the door.

There were no sounds anywhere, no signs of anyone's presence. But by the unnatural cold inside the keep he could sense they had been here.

They did follow the trail and checked. But left upon finding nothing, as they'd anticipated.

Although the distance of the travel and the amount of times Yennefer had done it, the day had taken it out of her, she slowly trailed behind Geralt, keeping a small distance behind him so that if they did happen to come across one of the Wild Hunt's specters roaming the halls, they wouldn't be cornered together and would have sufficient time to defend ourselves and each other.

Once they completed a check of the second floor and headed to the first, it became more apparent that the Riders hadn't bothered to set a trap and that they were arrogant enough to believe that no one would come back.

"It will take a while to warm it all up again," he said, strolling through the kitchen.

"Amongst other things," Yennefer commented quietly, watching as the trace of white mist fell from her lips, nowhere near as dense as it was when the Wild Hunt was in range, but as if winter had come early.

When they were sure they were alone and in the middle of the courtyard, the skies clear, nothing amiss aside from the usual structural damage, she could breathe easier.

"How she did this alone—for the most part—for so many years, I don't know."

Geralt turned to look at her and didn't like what he saw. She was hunching a bit, as if extremely tired. Which she had to be after all the magic. He felt a pang of guilt.

"She's strong," he said, taking Yennefer under the arm and leading her to a chair at the table, insisting on her sitting down.

Once she did, he threw a few logs into the huge kitchen fireplace and hit it with Igni.

The flames roared and crackled, brightening.

"You taught her well," she commented. Ever aware of the gift he'd given her, even if he hardly remembered it. She smiled her thanks for the concern, legs stretching out before her, back aching from the exertion. "Now that we know the place is clear, that your fellow witchers are going to be okay – what's the next step? Triss? Philippa? The latter is going to be pretty tricky from what I've managed to learn. I'm not so sure we'll be able to get to her in time or that if we do happen across her she'll be of any use in this battle."

Which dragged their numbers down by one. A powerful one at that.

"We have no time to appease Philippa," he said, feeding another log to the fire. "We have to settle on Triss and maybe Keira if she will help. Mousesack, Roche, Hjalmar and his friends. We'll have to manage. Also, we shouldn't underestimate Avallac'h."

"I'm not," she said with regard to Avallac'h.

She didn't know much about the elf but from what Ciri had told her, from what Yennefer knew of his reputation after a bit of a study, he was pretty formidable. She didn't know everything though and that's where she was missing out, where she felt lost and sometimes helpless.

She wasn't used to that feeling and hardly liked it.

"I'll send Triss a message and have her reach out to Keira."

Keira and Yennefer weren't on the best of terms.

"When we're ready, Ermion can bring Ciri and Hjalmar. Zoltan dealing with Roche?"

"I'll take care of Keira and will bring Ciri when it's time," Geralt said. "Roche is also my job. I'll pay a visit to Dijkstra, but there's little to no hope there. If you insist, you can get Triss and come here to prepare things."

That was a lot he was taking on for himself in Yennefer's opinion. "Why Dijkstra? I thought we were going to bypass Philippa?" As far as she knew he was the only connection to that particular issue. "Unless you mean for Roche?"

She wasn't particularly enthused about bringing Triss her just yet and having her sniff out the change between Geralt and Yennefer. Hell, she was looking and waiting for an opportunity. Yennefer cringed at the prospect of having to explain herself or the difference in the way he looked at her. And how long would it take her to realize what Yennefer had done?

"I'll wait on Vesemir, Lambert, Eskel and Coen. See what they have to say. They're the most knowledgeable about the area and what Kaer Morhen has to offer that we can work with."

"I'm not going to him for Philippa. I have a favor to remind him of. Not that there's hope for him agreeing." Geralt regarded her curiously. "You mean you'll stay here now? What about Triss?"

"A favor?" Yennefer asked. What kind of favor? He hadn't mentioned anything to her about it. "Yeah, it's not as if we have much time, right? The sooner we lay down a plan of action the better. Triss will come when we need her."

"I helped him retrieve his stolen property a while ago. Triss helped, too."

Geralt strolled around the kitchen, collecting a few candles from the shelves, then put them on the table and lit.

"Oh," Yennefer mused. What more could she say? It's not as if he was elaborating or going into too much detail. Did she even want to know?

After he lit the candles, she observed him curiously.

"I'll take an hour and then, if you're ready, I'll send you back."

"You don't have to do it right away. You have to rest. It's fine to stay until the morning."

"I'll be fine. The sooner you form new alliances the better chance we have. Who knows how long it'll take? Days? Weeks?" Yennefer cringed at the possibility of it being the concluding.

Geralt smiled. "It's all right to have this night for rest, Yennefer. You need it. I need it, too. We can't afford to drive ourselves to a breaking point before the fight is upon us."

Yennefer smiled back, touched by his consideration. "I suppose we do."

She rose up off her chair, moved to crouch in front of him and carefully undid the front strappings of his armor—not to remove it—just enough to make it easy so that she could check on his bandage.

She hadn't been able to do that for him this morning.

"Does the wound still hurt?"

Another smile touched his lips as Geralt thought how desirable she looked in that position, and how it was probably a misplaced thought. "No, it doesn't hurt. I think your healing skills helped better than mine."

"Well, on occasion, I am known to be a healer." Not that he would know that, anymore.

Yennefer touched a hand to his chest, removed the strip of material she'd placed over the wound the day before, and observed that the wound appeared to have colored well and scabbed over.

Another day or two and he should be completely healed.

"Do you still have of your healing elixir? It'll speed things up and since we're already planning on staying the night, you might as well take the opportunity." There wasn't much he could do tonight to get into much trouble so there wouldn't be any cause for worry where that was concerned.

"I don't have it on me, but there are ingredients here to make it." Geralt touched her cheek, brushed his thumb over it. "I feel good enough without it. Don't worry yourself."

"Well enough isn't good enough," she retorted, skin and other areas of her body flaming at the touch to her cheek. A simple gesture but one that filled her with hope. "I'll see what I can find in the laboratory."

She'd studied their library well enough to know what was needed and how to brew it altogether. It's what he'd needed at times and therefore become part of her arsenal.

"See if there's anything we can scrounge up to eat?"

They had gone from the place for a while and so had the other witchers, taking an earlier hit at their Path in wake of what they'd known was coming for Ciri.

"I'm fine, really."

Geralt went across the kitchen to peek into the sacks on the counter. A moment later, he brought a plate of dried meat to the table and a bottle of wine. It was cold and misty as if kept on ice.

Yennefer knew he was fine. She also knew that he was used to the series of wounds he got or was given, but that didn't mean that when she could, she wouldn't help speed up the process. Any hurt, however insignificant in his eyes, was simply another weakness for the Wild Hunt to later exploit.

The poultice was helping, but who knew how he'd exert himself the next day?

Or even later.

Unlike their time at Skellige, they had no way to determine what could happen here or if someone would return. Yennefer hoped they wouldn't, that the remainder of his family would arrive and they'd be able to start working on getting defenses in place.

She studied the wine he'd put down in front of her on the table, and touched a hand to it.

"We should invest in better attire. Better armor." Maybe she could even come up with some kind of trinket with Triss to help combat the cold and thwart any kind of elemental magic the Riders would care to throw at them. "Are you surprised we didn't find them here?"

Given his history with them, it made sense that he'd have some kind of theory about how they functioned.

"The Hunt?" Geralt settled at the table and reached for a piece of meat. "I'm not. They couldn't be sure we would come back, so they didn't wait. I don't think they doubt they'll get her in the end, anyway. So they take their time, being certain of their power."

But they knew this was the witcher keep and that Ciri was linked to Geralt. Yennefer was beginning to think that it was too easy, that maybe she'd been too hopeful in this regard and that their arrogance might be their downfall – same as him.

_What if we were wrong? What would it cost us? _

As soon as Triss arrived they would do a more thorough energy search and make sure they hadn't left any magical surprises or other traps. Those harder to spot with eyes alone.

She got up to get them each a mug to drink from and poured a heavy-handed measure of wine to help warm up a little due to the lingering frost. She sat down, picked up a piece of meat and nibbled.

She seemed troubled despite them finding no signs of traps or the Hunters themselves. The Witcher had some troubles of his own on is mind and wondered if hers were any close.

"Do you trust Avallac'h with her?" he ventured, pouring himself some more wine to wash down dry meat.

It took her a moment to answer – to really consider it. "I trust for now that he is willing to keep her safe. I don't trust that he isn't spitting poison into her head and that he is possibly trying to make her feel as though she is dependent on him. Indebted."

She was. For almost two years. That bond wasn't easy to severe or even loosen up a bit and her outburst when they'd discussed his possible ulterior motives had proved that.

Yennefer also hadn't been in on one of their training sessions and nor had the sorceress pushed to be as it seemed to be more of a private matter between them.

"What I want to know is, what are his plans for her after we defeat the Wild Hunt? Will he go back to where his from? Is he going to hover around?"

His face darkened as he looked into the mug with wine. "He wouldn't let her go so easily. Elves are not keen on losing their prizes."

"Of course not. Presently she's the most valuable slave that he has."

Not that Yennefer had seen him treat her as such. However, she could tell that he felt superior to her in some instance – and to them, as well. That was his breeding and their inane nature.

"But that'll be his downfall. Unfortunately, we don't have much choice but to wait." She lifted the mug of wine to her lips, sipping at it slowly. "Why was Ciri at the druid's camp?"

"To cause me another concern," he simpered. "Haven't you heard us talking to Mousesack? There's a half-blood elf living in the woods. The druid knows him back from Cintra days. Apparently that boy lived in Brokilon forest for a while. Which means he can be dangerous. And Ciri… Well, she's always been too inquisitive for her own good."

Yennefer shook her head. She was good a very many things but supernatural hearing wasn't one of them, not when she was focused elsewhere and there was a lot to distract her and try to separate.

She listened while he explained, expelling a sigh. "True. I thought, however, that she was supposed to be training with Avallac'h."

She hadn't bothered to question Ciri about that at the time because she didn't think Ciri wanted to feel anymore attacked and Yennefer didn't want to risk adding to her uneasiness when she was already so worried about them all and what was to come.

It also didn't seem to strike Yennefer with the same type of urgency.

"What's your feel on the circumstances? You think this half-blood is out there for her? That she'll run into him again?"

"She said she bumped into him by accident and he was protecting his friend - whatever that means. Both Ciri and Mousesack said he's not fond of company. I don't know how to judge it - I don't have enough information. Mousesack is reluctant and Ciri says she's protecting a secret that is not her own.

"I know how she is, though. If Avallac'h is pressuring her and Mousesack and I forbid to see the elf, she will be tempted to go against all of us. It can lead to danger, and she needs no additional danger."

"Like any hot blooded adolescent."

What could they do about it now but hope that she'd been smart enough not to revisit or push those boundaries? Unfortunately, Yennefer doubted that would be the case as so much of Ciri's life had already been put on hold and she was only just starting out.

Yennefer took another thoughtful bite of her dried meat and then set it aside, washing it down with the wine as she slowly made to get to her feet.

"I'll go take care of that elixir in the laboratory. How long do you think it'll take the rest of the witchers to arrive?"

"They're traveling on horseback, it will take a bit longer than your way." Geralt smiled. "Give or take a couple of days. Or one."

"Can we be sure they won't run into trouble on the way? I remember a lot of interesting creatures and tests on that trail when I first got here. Is the Wild Hunt aware of your traditions?"

"Even if I ever knew what they are or aren't aware of - I don't remember."

He finished his wine and got up from the table.

"We need to rest. I'll check the perimeter before we lock the doors."

"Do that. We'll sleep together tonight."

Yennefer hardly lingered to debate as she added a few extra measures of wine to both their mugs, picked hers up and carried it with her toward the laboratory.

As Geralt said, all the ingredients needed for the elixir were all there in the cupboard, set aside in well-worn glass containers for easy use, the tops warped and dirtied.

She threw together what she knew from memory, taking the time—for the first time ever—to scan the depth of the laboratory, to actually look at the mutagenic plants inside that had been guarded and protected for so long as if they'd embodied the living.

Plants that were almost as a rich to them as treasure.

She didn't touch them, didn't linger too long, grateful on their part that the Wild Hunt hadn't thought to destroy them, to make the possibilities of witchers any more likely.

She didn't suppose they'd bothered much with anything but Ciri, which as distressing as it was to think about, worked in their favor.

Once she finished with the elixir, she collected the two bottles and carried them into the remainder of the broken keep in search of Geralt, assuming he'd have made his way to his chambers if he'd finished securing the doors and doing the last checks.

* * *

He waited until the moon was well above horizon before they ventured off the mountain and over the plains and woods of the main Skellige island. The night was clear and he saw the tower on Undvik - a black needle against the dark sky, stars peppering the canopy around it.

With a happy screech, Griffin took up, hung there for two seconds, then dove down into a bunch of sirens. He leaned into him, holding on tight. His stomach flopped a little at his dive, and it wasn't unpleasant. He grew accustomed to the thrill of flight.

The sirens screamed, diving into the ocean and splashing them. He wiped his face against the griffin's mane and directed the beast toward Undvik. There were plenty of sirens around it, too.

* * *

The dreams returned to her that night, as Ciri suspected they would. But unlike the terrors she had faced in the bath, these were of a different nature.

No Eredin or The Wild Hunt, for one. Nor did she see the faces of her family and friends.

She saw a tower of elven architecture and heard its name whispered to her. Tor Gvalch'ca. Tower of the She-Falcon. Falka.

The name she had chosen for herself when hiding with The Rats as a young teen. She had never known why. Was it destiny? All these towers that kept cropping up.

Tor Lara. Tower of the Gull. Tor Zireael. Tower of the Swallow. And now: Falka. All connected.

In the tower was a man. A man wandering the circular plane beneath the tower's sharp points; a majestic griffin soaring the air over the ocean.

Another whisper. The White Frost.

This was the tower. The one Avallac'h had mentioned countless times as they plotted and planned how she would stop The White Frost come the end of the battle. This was where the portal could be opened. The portal that would lead to the source of The Frost.

What was the archer doing there? Was he trying to open the portal? To step inside would be certain death for anyone not carrying the Elder Blood. But what if the portal was to remain open? To be left unattended? Would The White Frost enter and spread years before its time?

* * *

Ciri woke with a gasp and sat upright in her bed. Sleep did not linger in her eyes. She was wide awake and filled with a purpose she did not quite understand. Nor did she think she would ever understand. Not until she had done what she needed.

Avallac'h had come to see her briefly before she went to bed that evening, while she was eating her dinner. They had barely talked, yet he had watched her with the strangest expression. One she had seen on Geralt's face a lot, but that didn't look at home on Avallac'h's.

While she undressed she had watched the elf through the window in her room, seen him go down into the village. She did not know what business he had there, and though curious, even now she'd awoken with a mission in mind, she had no intention of investigating.

* * *

Ciri dressed in her clothes from earlier, adding the long fur cloak Cerys had gifted her and hurried from her rooms, sword on her back. The castle was far from quiet. The feasts were still raging. Which made it exceptionally easy to sneak amongst the drunkards without anyone paying heed.

She did not head for the stables this time, but the dock. There were several unattended boats, one of which Ciri claimed. She loosened the sails and let the wind take her out onto the open ocean.

It was a strange thing. She was the Lady of Time and Space, yes. But she was no navigator. Especially at sea. And yet it was as though her hands knew exactly when to guide the boat left and right. Instinct. Intuition. She trusted it.

She'd been sailing in relative peace for an hour before she saw the tower in the distance. There were sirens nearby. She could tell by their shrieks. Ciri had already killed one a little way back, but now as she neared land again the air ahead looked almost black with them.

_Shit._

The sight would never have worried her much had she been allowed to make use of her powers. Then again, had it been that easy she would not have needed a boat in the first place.

It wasn't long before they noticed her. The one who dove at Ciri first met her end at the sword. The next was luckier, her talons grazing Ciri's arm before she soared out of reach again. On her next attack, Ciri got her, too, Swallow cleaving her in two like a log.

There was a crash and thump from beneath the boat, making the whole vessel shake. Ciri moved her feet, quickly and deftly to keep her balance, urging the wind to get her to land.

More thumps, wood breaking. The boat was taking in water and filling rapidly.

She cursed under her breath and fought the sirens still circling the air around her, mauling some, missing others. They got her a few times as well, their talons sharp and unforgiving.

She was too far away from shore. Even without the hungry sirens, she might not be able to swim the whole way. Not when the waters were freezing.

_I'll have to jump_, she thought. _I'll have to leap through space to survive._

The Wild Hunt would be on her within seconds. Her last incorporeal encounter with Eredin was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

_Please. Not Eredin. Anything else._

Surprisingly, the dark elf's face faded quickly from her mind and was replaced with that of the archer. His fair hair, his hazel eyes, the sound of his voice.

Archer. Archer. _Archer!_

He was the sole thought that filled her as she sheathed her sword and abandoned the boat.

* * *

Geralt walked through every room of the keep and went to every tower to check every corner, nook and cranny. He walked around the keep, as well, making sure it felt all right, then came back and locked the main hall doors before going upstairs to the room he figured she would choose - there was no better one in their keep.

She was there, sitting by her vanity table she must have gotten here with magic. Her megascope stood by the tall windows across the room.

"Everything seems quiet," he informed, taking off his swords. "You feel better?"

"Not particularly," she commented, turning away from the mirror to face him. She hadn't found him in his room, deciding to go in search of the one she most often used when she was around in the past and they were on a strict visit on occasional times when needed regime.

While there and while she waited, she exerted herself a bit more and drew over the rest of her stuff from the Inn in Novigrad, setting up like she usually did and as was comfortable.

"How'd you know to find me here?"

Maybe he'd remembered something. She was allowed to be hopeful, right?

Geralt gave a lopsided smile, unbuckling her jacket. "It's the most comfortable room in the keep. Women prefer comfort, and I thought you wouldn't surprise me with it."

Women? Was he referring to that from experience and the fact that not so long ago she had thrown his damned bed out of the tower window? Not that he'd remember any of that.

"I've become predictable in my old age." Yennefer picked up one of the elixirs, gave it a slight shake and then moved to toss it at him to catch. "Drink."

Geralt refrained from asking about her age or complimenting how well she had preserved herself - not all sorceresses liked jokes about such matters. Even those who stated that they loved you.

He caught the bottle, gave it a studying look, then did as she said.

The taste made him wince, but he'd had worse. He put the bottle on the table. "Thank you."

Yennefer smiled, pleased he hadn't bothered to fight with her about the demand, and got to her feet. She strode toward him, making a point of undoing the laces on his armor.

"You'll be staying with me, correct?"

"It's safer to stay together, especially if we're all alone." He smiled.

"Couldn't agree more."

She undid the complicated trappings, stripped off his jacket and then walked around him slowly to help him out of the rest, fingers skimming his arms, back and chest, purposely avoiding his wound.

"I'll reapply your poultice."

She lowered a hand to his breeches, index sliding into the waistband, carefully hooking there as she coaxed him after her, guiding him toward the mattress so he could sit down.

Geralt let his eyes travel up along the curves of her hips to her thin waist, and the breasts, the onyx star pendant sparkling with diamonds among the raven curls coiling on her shoulders and chest.

He half lay back, propped on his elbows.

Yennefer smiled as he sat down on the mattress, moving toward her magic's chest to remove the poultice she'd thrown together the day before from inside, along with a clean strip of fabric.

She returned to him, nudged his knees apart and positioned herself between them. She set the stuff down beside him, sliding her hands along his thighs and up his chest slowly.

A faint smile playing on his mouth, the Witcher watched her with a growing fascination. Something else was about to start growing, as well.

Yennefer returned the smile with a mischievous twitch of her lips, being careful as she began to remove the previous material and the paste that had been applied.

She circled the wound with her index finger, clearing away the last remnants and then applied the new paste and strip of material, flattening her hand against it, taking her time to smooth it out.

"Do you feel any different since last night?"

"I told you it was much better. I didn't think I needed any new potions, anymore."

"That's not what I was referring to," she mused, bringing a hand up to the side of his face, gently cupping it as she moved to straddle him, thumb brushing his lower lip. "I meant us. About us."

His smiled dimmed a tad; he drew in a deeper breath. "I wish I could tell you I remember now. But I don't."

"That I know," she murmured, her own enthusiasm dimmed slightly. "But still not what I meant. I— I was wondering if you… the new Yennefer-less version of you had felt anything."

Geralt didn't know what to tell her. That she aroused him? That much was obvious, he didn't seem to be immune to her charms. But she meant feelings, and he…

"I don't know. There's not been any time to think about it, and there's too much on both our minds."

"There's always been a lot on our minds. A lot that's held us back – that's held me back," she commented, sliding her hands down his chest, nails gently raking at his abdomen. "I'm weary of that excuse."

"I don't want to give you excuses," he said. "But I will not lie to you, either. You're... luring me. Like you did the very first day I knew you. I don't know what that is, I can't explain it. Maybe I shouldn't try to."

"That feeling is us, it's always been us."

She settled the hand on his chest, above his heart as if she had to explain to him where it was meant to be, where it had grown and changed and screamed and would eventually reach once harbored.

And it had been there, only a few days ago.

_And now?_

The hand lingered there as if to grieve, and then slowly shifted lower, sliding along his abdomen to come to rest between her thighs on his crotch where the evidence was more prevalent.

"The time of us not explaining it or ignoring it is over."

Geralt wished it would be the same for him, but he felt like he was standing in the dark while she could see things he couldn't even imagine properly. He didn't know how to light a candle and see for himself. No Signs would help with it.

He reached to stroke her cheek. "I never ignored it. But I can't explain it. Not now. Not... yet."

Geralt had always been more open to the prospect of their bond, as though the feeling itself had been enough and needed no other explanation. Yennefer, on the other hand, hardly knew how to deal with it, how to pretend she knew and how to deal with it when it overwhelmed her.

How had anyone loved her? How had he?

She'd had her fair share of haters and lovers, but most had only ever been interested in accepting parts of who she was and who they thought she should be – not who she actually was.

At least he knew that part of himself.

"Then let me help you," she murmured, eyes on his, sliding one of her hands beneath the fabric of his pants, massaging, coaxing the bulge to grow more uncomfortable, to supply the one feeling they had both always managed to read between them – lust. "Let me help you make the distinction."

Geralt would have let her help him with anything she wanted, but for the life of him he couldn't explain the trust she invoked from somewhere deep within his soul. She asked for confirmations, but he couldn't find any that wouldn't be guesses or hunches. He couldn't find anything solid and reasonable to offer her and didn't want to lie.

Instead of a response, he took her chin and pulled her closer for a kiss.

Yennefer leaned down at his encouragement, capturing his lips, losing herself in the intensity of the unspoken passion between them. Even if he didn't know it, his body did, and it responded with the same invoked want that it always had – as if it knew something was missing and wanted to hold on.

Or was that just the consequences of their lust?

Without him to assure, to guide her as he did, despite her renewed confidence, the lines still blurred for her, lost within a haze of lust so strong that it was practically work trying to breathe through it.

She removed her hand from his pants, undid the laces a few extra notches and then steadily broke the kiss so that she could help him out of them, and herself out of her own.

They fell into it like it was a habit neither questioned. There was no space for thought and the world became heated breathes and a rhythm of passion that made everything else disappear.

His hands and mouth explored her body, savoring the fragrant heat of her skin, her gasps and trembling eyelids fluttering shut to relish in pleasure. He liked it too much, so much it scared him he would lose himself in it all - in her - and then he didn't know what would happen to him.

As soon the delicate barriers had been dealt with, it was as if they'd magnetized, bodies falling into a song it had known and sung since the day they'd been thrown in each other's path.

They explored with hands, lips and tongue, urged by their synchronized sounds of desire, driven by a connection that seemed to reach that new level of intensity for her again.

Their joining had always been out of worldly and filled with amity, but since Yennefer had cut their invisible ties, it had become even worse, and before she knew, the act had brought more tears to her eyes.

_Why? _

Yennefer hardly understood it since they'd already visited this level of intimacy, and scarcely knew what to do as the quick rush of blinding end charged upon her, throwing her over its end into the abyss.

When his vision and senses began to return to him, Geralt nuzzled into her neck, inhaling her scent and taking in her breathing and her thrashing heart that gradually calmed its rush.

He knew now he could sleep. It felt good, so alluringly good…

Thankfully there was no need to revisit pointing out the emotions and what they meant. Geralt already knew and Yennefer was steadily coming to terms with it himself.

It wasn't long before the sound of his gentle breathing caught her attention, making it so that she could roll off him slowly and then detangle from him quietly.

She redressed, observing him in the minimalistic light, carefully walking over to her vanity to check her appearance, to wipe away the streaks of black that had teased their way down her cheeks.

What had happened to her? Why was it was mourning what they had when he was still here with her? When they'd just made what could be defined as love?

Yennefer plucked a piece of paper from one of her chests, scrawled a note to Triss and before she'd even considered the ramifications, had sent it to her a wisp of smoke.

Yennefer wanted to wait until last minute, to keep Triss as far away from Geralt as she possibly could with his newfound removal of who Yennefer was, knowing Triss would feed off the opportunity, but for how long was she going to have to do that? What if their relationship never reached the potential Yennefer and Geralt had imagined for the both of them? Just how many obstacles could this new bridge survive?

She steeled herself as she had in the past, staring at her reflection in the mirror, and this scarily human face staring back at her, fearful that she'd just made another mistake but determined to take what was to come with it.

Yennefer rose up off the bench, slipped back onto the covers beside him and carefully shifted the blankets until they'd both been covered and concealed from the chill that still lingered in the air.

She slept till late morning.

* * *

The small rocky islands spattered around Undvik resembled a graveyard of ships. There was barely any spike sticking out of water without a few wooden planks or some rotten box or parcel or a shred of dirty sail stuck to it or floating around in the inky waves.

They explored some bigger ones with almost childish curiosity, saving the main island and the carcasses around it for last. The Archer estimated they had another few hours left, so he wasn't wasting any moments. He intended to drop by the tower before they called it a night.

He stroked a hand against the splintered wood of what used to be a battle ship. It looked Skelligan, and the nose decoration remained towering over him, although most paint was gone.

Swift and bright visions flashed through his mind as he let them, feeling the wood beneath his fingers. Echidnas and sirens finished the job after a mighty storm that helped a Nilfgaardian ship to sink this one. The Black One lay, most likely, on the bottom not too far from here, defeated by a few more Northern ships. A few shields with golden sun on the faded black lay around the store among the rubble and seaweeds.

Loud shrieks reached him with a gust of wind from the sea. He ran up to the top of the rock to see. The griffin gave a screech from the shore, his ears pricked. He took off a moment later and rushed for the screaming bunch fighting over pray at the water surface. The Archer couldn't make out who they were attacking, but the white patch of what had to be a fisherman boat's sail was sinking into the waves rapidly.

Griffin dove into their midst, grabbing one in his mighty paws, stabbing claws into the silvery writhing creature. The siren gave out a horrid cry that died abruptly when the griffin ripped her head off with his beak and dropped her down, going for another dive. Sirens all went under water, but he circled around the place, nonetheless, seeing something.

He usually lost interest when they were gone. Strange.

The boat was gone, but something floated in the water. The Archer made out a white patch against the glistening dark of the ocean.

A faint electric shock went through his spine all of a sudden, startling him. He framed his mouth with his palms, letting out a shriek.

Griffin responded; the Archer felt his confusion and waved a hand down. He screeched and dove and came up with a trophy. The trophy was grasping at his paws, and Griffin wavered in the air, disliking it and considering dropping his baggage back in the water. He took it to the shore and let it fall a couple of feet on the sand.

It was close enough now, and the Archer saw the white hair. She was coughing violently, a sword handle stuck from the wet and heavy fur cloak.

Hopping over the rocks to avoid the slashing water, the Archer reached the shore and approached. The griffin paced half a dozen feet away, stretching his neck and sniffing the air, cackling quietly. Alert but inquisitive.

The Archer stopped few steps short and waited for her to stop coughing to ask in a nonchalant tone one uses to inquire people how they slept: "Are you insane?"

* * *

The water was freezing. Shockingly so. It made the use of her limbs almost impossible. Ciri kicked her legs to stay afloat and attempted to free herself of the heavy cloak that weighed her down but her fingers would not co-operate.

She swallowed mouthfuls of water and it become increasingly difficult to keep her head above the surface. She heard the shrieks of the sirens but they were no longer interested in her. It did not make much of a difference. She was still going to die.

Might be for the best.

She gasped for breath when she was suddenly pulled out of the water, something hard and strong locking around her arms and lifting her into the air. She might have felt frightened had she the full understanding of what was happening. But mostly she was simply focusing on breathing.

Ciri groaned when her back hit the sand and quickly rolled over, coughing and emptying her lungs of water, only noticing the archer beside her once she had managed to calm somewhat.

She wanted to continue laying down, but both her training and past experience had taught her never to do so when in the presence of a stranger. She was already vulnerable. Did not have to make it easier on him.

* * *

"I've been asking myself that a lot lately," Ciri muttered without much humor, trembling from the cold as she surveyed the sea in front of them. Her boat was long gone. So were the sirens.

The griffin. He'd chased them away and pulled her out of the water.

"Thank you."

"You can still die from cold even on the dry land," he reasoned in response and heaved a sigh, annoyed with the issue and how it now appeared to be his.

His own hooded cloak was left back in the woods - it wasn't comfortable for flying. They could take her back to the island, but time was short. She was freezing while the soaked clothes were on.

"You have to take the wet clothes off if you plan on continuing to live."

Ciri met his gaze and stared, fingers suddenly itching for her sword.

She knew his request was not unreasonable. It was logical even. But every instinct she possessed, every lesson learned the hard way, told her no.

She undid the cloak because it was heavy, but nothing more. Draping it over her arm as she turned to look at the tower looming over the cliffs far away. Just like the other elven towers she had encountered, it was almost hypnotizing. Vibrating with the memory of power, now locked away.

"I'm fine," she said without emotion, starting the climb up towards the flat planes above, unaware her lips were turning a faint blue.

_She is indeed insane or just plain suicidal._

"Hey," he called after her. "Dry your clothes first - that hut over there is intact. Unless you really came to die here. Did you?"

Ciri paused with her back to him, head slightly turned as if his words were hard to catch on the wind.

She had not even noticed a hut, nor considered the possibility of a fire. Her mind had been on him. And then the tower.

Slowly, she turned around and headed back, answering his question just as she passed by him, meeting his eyes as she did. "No."

Ciri did not think she was suicidal. Not really. Despite the thoughts that came to her in moments of weakness.

The door to the hut slid open when she pushed against it, saving her the trouble of kicking it down. It was fairly empty. That was plain to see even in the dark. There were a few wooden chairs, some old fishing nets, and empty bottles of liquor in the fireplace.

Probably a hut where the fishermen waited out storms.

She threw the cloak over one chair and with trembling hands, swept the bottles out of the fireplace. She eyed the chairs scrutinizing, trying to decide which looked the easiest to break apart.

Griffin and the man looked at each other – the beast came up to him when the girl went toward the hut. The beast gave a quiet sound of uncertainty.

The Archer sighed, considering, then gestured for Griffin to stay, and went for the hut.

He didn't bother knocking and stopped on the threshold.

"Can you make fire or your pendant is merely symbolic?"

The way he said it sounded like an insult, like he did not think her worthy of a witcher pendant. He was not the first to say so.

She turned to face him, trying to tamp down the sting of the fact she'd never become a real witcher. It had been her dream and ambition since Geralt first came for her. But fate had gone a different route. "I can," she said, for Yennefer had taught her the spell when Ciri was under her tutelage. But that did not matter. Ciri was not allowed to use her powers. "And I can't." Two very conflicting statements, she knew. She did not feel eager to explain. "Have you come to offer a solution?"

The Archer raised an eyebrow incredulously. "You either can or can't. Which is it?" Another idea came to him, and he swept a glance over her. "Are you hurt?"

Ciri followed his gaze, wondering if he had seen something she had not. "No, I–"

Oh, there were a few cuts from the sirens' claws. One on her upper right arm, another on her back judging by the intense stinging-sensation she only just noticed. It could have been worse. She was lucky.

"No," she repeated. "It's not that, it's… I just can't."

She moved to grasp one of the chairs, intending to smash it to pieces that could be used for firewood.

"Get me two pieces of flint, though, and I am practically a wizard."

He pulled the chair from her hand and overturned it at his feet to snap the legs off.

"Get undressed," he said, unbuckling the straps of his wolf-fur jacket, and tossed it on another chair next to her. The light shirt he was left in immediately soaked in the chill.

He half-turned away from her and began to snap the legs off the old chair, using the breathing technique to warm up.

Those words, that order, rang in her ears for a long time.

It brought her back to Bonhart, just after he'd forced her to watch him decapitate all her friends, when he ordered her to undress in the middle of a crowded tavern.

And it brought her back to Auberon, who had never used physical violence or force in his request, but who had damaged her, nonetheless.

The Archer was not Bonhart, not his type, the kind who took pleasure in other people's misery, who got off on it. She could already tell as much. But the thought of making herself even more vulnerable in his company terrified her to her very core.

Still, Ciri did. Because the cold was too much, to the point she could barely suppress the trembling anymore.

She removed her sword and its scabbard, placing it against the wall nearest her where she could easily reach it, and turned her back to the archer, undoing the binds on her shirt enough so she could pull it over her head.

Covering herself with one arm, she reached for the fur jacket he'd offered to lend her and put it on, struggling a tad to buckle the straps with her trembling, numb fingers. She managed eventually.

"Thank you," she said again, well aware she was now in his debt.

He didn't respond, didn't look her way as he tossed the chair legs in the fireplace, then snapped the seat in two and stuffed the pieces over the legs. He took a moment concentrating, and a flick of orange flashed beneath them, licked the offered wood tentatively, and began to crackle, growing and enveloping the chair in warmth and light.

Assuming she was decent, he cast a glance at her.

"How do you plan to get home?"

Ciri watched him build the fire, the spark of magic not going unnoticed. Somehow it did not surprise her. Elves were often proficient in magic.

The fire came alive and soon provided a steadily growing warmth. She stepped towards the fireplace, allowing her hands to hover close, curling and uncurling her fingers to work some blood back into them.

"Home?" she asked, befuddled until she realized he must have meant Kaer Trolde. She shrugged, unconcerned about that at the moment. "I don't know. I'll find a way. I always do."

Avallac'h would find her sooner or later and hell would rain down on her. Ciri tried not to think about that.

"You were going to Tor Gvalch'ca." Or he had already been. She could not tell. "Why?"

She was being too vague, and it was annoying. Even more annoying was the fact that he let himself get involved. He still couldn't understand why he did and why it had to happen near him.

The name she used elicited his frown. "To what?"

Ciri turned to look at him. "Tor Gvalch'ca." She had expected him to understand the Elder Speech, but perhaps she had been mistaken.

_Half-elf_, she reminded herself. _Don't make assumptions._

"The tower." She gestured in the general direction, even if it could not be seen from in here.

His frown deepened. Why would she know where he was going?

"You're what, a seer?"

"I asked you first," she pointed out, managing the smallest of smiles now heat was starting to creep back in her body. She turned fully to face him, putting her back to the fire, so she could examine him properly in the light. He did not feel evil. Did not feel as though he had intentions of dooming this world and everyone in it. Perhaps he had merely been curious? Or just ended up here while letting his griffin-friend stretch his wings.

"Never mind," she said after a short pause, feeling that strange need to protect his privacy that she had felt earlier with Geralt and Yennefer. She could not for the life of her understand why. "It is not my business."

Seer or not, she was something. Or it's the witcher's practiced attention that she tried to read him with.

"It's not," he agreed, folding his arms and briefly checking if his own medallion was still hidden beneath the shirt. "But you're here, which was a rather stupid endeavor. So tell me it's not because of me you came here. The Elder won't be pleased."

"It's not solely because of you." She also wanted a good look at the tower.

Avallac'h had been upfront about the risks of our solo-endeavor, so Ciri knew there was a high chance The Tower of The Falcon would be the last she'd see of this world before she died.

A morbid curiosity, perhaps? Or a wish to find something that would help her succeed?

"The Elder?" she asked because that sounded ominous.

"Ermion. He's not fond of your finding out about me. If you're tracking me with whatever you use for it, he won't be pleased. So why would you do it in such a deadly way?"

"Oh." Her concern waned a little. She had no desire to make Ermion-Mousesack angry. But she also did not fear his anger. In the past, as a child, there would have been punishments a'plenty for disobeying her elders. She was not so sure how that worked these days. "Our first two encounters were mere coincidences. I am not tracking you. And tonight, I wanted the tower." She paused, considering him. "You were an added bonus. As for the boat… not all of us have friends with wings."

"You seem to have plenty of two-legged friends who'd accompany you to that tower. Why you sneak at night like that?"

"What makes you think I snuck away?"

He rolled his eyes, getting tired of having to explain the obvious. "You're all alone in a boat going to an abandoned island and can't do magic to save yourself. It seems like secrecy to me. So why?"

Ciri smiled a little. "Touché. And my reasons are my own. For now, anyway. Are you certain you were not in Brokilon nine years ago?"

He squinted imperceptibly. _That_ again. "Why would you think so?"

"I dreamed about you. Before we met." It pained her to admit it but it was the truth. "I'm trying to understand why."

That was alarming and sent an ominous thrill down his spine. He shivered subtly, but his face didn't betray it. "If you're a seer, it happens, and there's not much to understand except for it all being signals to you from the powers that serve you. No one taught you?"

"They tried. But they didn't have much time." Ciri turned back to the fire. "I know my dreams. I can tell them apart. Which are fantasies, which are premonitions, which are visions. The nightmares always come true. Always. And they are there every night. Except last night. Then there was just you."

He mulled it over a moment, eyeing the fire when she turned away. "I hope you don't expect me to explain that – Ermion is the one who should be good at it. Sages, wizards and such. You might have dreamt it all as a premonition to this situation you've gotten yourself into. A part of your soul might have known in advance what you'd do and how to save you." He shrugged, even though she wasn't looking at him, and glanced at the window.

The moon had moved significantly – he had lost about an hour. And was going to lose more, because there was no way the girl would swim back.

"I should take you back. Or at least try. Griffin never had two riders before."

"You sound like him," she mused, moving her wet shirt closer to the fire. It was far from dry. "Are you going to the tower?"

"As if there's time for that anymore," he looked at her ironically. "Unless I leave you alone in here and just go while you're drying your clothes."

"You are running out of time?" She frowned.

He had an urge to roll his eyes again, but refrained. "Griffin can't fly around during the day – you said so yourself. I have to be gone before sunrise."

"There are no people on this island. You are planning to stay here?"

If so, he did not have to worry about being seen. Other than to deliver her back to Kaer Trolde, of course. "Right."

She turned her back on him again and undid the fur's clasps, intending to exchange it with her own clothing again.

"Leave it on." He made to reach for her wet clothes, then thought against it, and gave her a pensive look. "Did they hurt you? The sirens."

Ciri paused undressing. "Claws got me once or twice."

She regarded him over her shoulder. His clothes weren't suited for winter, either. "You'll freeze. You should go. Take your friend and go. I got myself into this mess. It was never my attention to make you suffer for it. I'll stay. Someone will find me eventually, they always do."

He looked at her with tired patience. "You're being stupid again. I can't leave you here for a chance of someone finding you or your bones.

"Where did they claw you? Bleeding won't do you good."

"Arm. Maybe my back." The cold had been worse than anything.

She hesitated, stifling the touch of fear before she slowly eased out of the coat, pressing it to her chest to cover, as Lambert would say, her womanly bits.

He observed a long scratch across her shoulder blades and glimpsed another, smaller one, on her shoulder. Both were oozing blood.

He skimmed over the options in his head, but none of the human ways would be effective now. He didn't have all night.

"Don't move," he said quietly, rubbing his palms together. It was the last thing he wanted to do – touch anyone, especially her of all people, knowing what touches could bring. He didn't want to know or _see_ anything.

_No other way._

He inhaled, focusing, letting himself feel the energy flowing into his hands until it prickled like tiny needles. Gingerly, as if she'd turn and bite, he held her palms over her scratch, so close he felt the faint warmth of her skin.

Ciri closed her eyes and tried to still her thrashing heart. She didn't want to be afraid and she especially did not want him to know just how much.

He didn't put his hands on her but she still felt the warmth of his touch. Healing.

Gradually, the gash began to skin over, the rims connecting and the traces of the cut dissolving, leaving the traces of spilt blood as the only mark of where it was damaged. He repeated with the arm, then stepped back, rubbing his hands against his hips to shake the prickling. It passed soon enough, but the light dizziness remained.

Without the actual touch, it took more power. He felt thirsty and thought longingly about a nap in their cave.

The pain eased and when he finished she scarcely heard his voice. She trembled, though not from cold this time. It was a kind of relief.

"You're fine," he said and went for the door. He no longer felt cold, and a breath of fresh air would do him good. "I'll see where my friend is."

He didn't wait for her response and stepped out.

She registered him leaving and was grateful for a few moments to herself so she could redress.

The cloak had shed some of the water but it was still too wet to be worn, and too heavy to bring on the griffin.

She left it behind and stepped outside to find the two. "Archer?"

He turned to her voice; the griffin screeched and stepped back a bit, still wary.

The girl was wearing her shirt, still damp and clinging to her body. Her coat was probably left behind as a dead weight. The sword handle stuck out behind her shoulder, gleaming in the moonlight.

"You sure you don't want this?" she tugged at the jerkin in gesture, stopping a few feet away from him and the griffin.

"You need it more than I do right now." He glanced at her with a squint of interest. "Why is that tower so important that you came here alone? What are you hoping to find there?"

"I suppose I am looking for answers. Reassurance that I might make it out of… everything alive." Ciri knew that wouldn't make much sense to him. "What are you looking for?"

He ignored her question, altogether, in the light of the answer she gave. "What is that supposed to mean – make it out of everything alive?"

Ciri watched him a long time, eye to eye, trying to read him. "There are things I am expected to do. And it is doubtful I will survive them."

He raised his eyebrows, both intrigued and annoyed at the vague hints. "Like what? Bearing children? You don't have to, even if every second man out there expects you to. Habits of perception rarely die. It should be your own wish, since it's your body that bears them.

"What else do people want you to kill yourself for?"

Ciri laughed. "You'd think that, wouldn't you? But people don't take no for an answer. Not humans. Not mages. Not elves."

She sobered because it was not really that funny. "Enough now. You know too much and I too little. Why were you going to the tower?"

It was the closest he came to a ghost of a smile to touch his mouth. "Sightseeing. I haven't been here before. Curiosity is every creature's sin. I'm no exception. Not always, that is."

He glanced in the direction of the tower, then at where the moon hung.

"We'll visit the tower before we go back…" He looked at her through a squint. "If you tell me what you fear will kill you."

Ciri inhaled in slight excitement, though it faded as soon as it had come. "Why?" She mirrored his expression without knowing. "Why do you want to know? Is this just curiosity as well?"

"It is," he said, folding his arms for additional warmth.

The griffin's chest and shoulder pressed into his back, and he leaned onto the animal. He was warm.

"I want to know what scares you so much."

Ciri lowered her gaze, watching her boots as she considered his offer. "You are asking me to put a lot of trust in you," she said softly and finally looked up to meet his gaze again.

He regarded her pensively, then shrugged. "If I wanted to harm you - I'd have done that by shooting you or letting you freeze. What was the point in spending my time saving you just to use your fear against you somehow? I'm not a mastermind of evil, princess. We'll part ways and it'll be over. But maybe you feel better if you share that with someone you don't have to face every day. Sometimes it helps, or so I've been told." He raised his hands briefly in the afterthought. "Not that I will force you to."

He stepped around the griffin's wing and hopped onto his back, then beckoned her.

"Some men enjoy the torment more than the kill," she said. "And they will use your worst fears against you. To control you. To hurt you." She caught herself, fairly certain he'd understood she was not talking about him.

She put her gloved hand in his and let him help her up, frightened she would accidentally rip feathers from the griffin's plumage and send the animal into a rage. Luckily, it went all right.

She tried to make herself as comfortable as possible behind the archer, lightly resting her hands at his sides. "Have you ever heard the prophecy of The White Frost?"

"I've heard more than I bothered to remember."

Griffin was wary, his ears pulled back hearing the girl. The Archer put a hand on his neck, and reassurance helped. He ran a bit forward along the shore, crouched and leapt up, wings spreading around them, pushing him up. It took him a moment to adjust to weight, then he took a course for the tower. The wind made it useless to try to talk.

Her stomach lurched as they took off and Ciri inhaled sharply, very briefly tightening her hold on the archer, until she was certain she would not slide off.

And then it was just pure bliss. It felt like jumping through space, gave her the same high of exhilaration as she travelled dimensions. Closest thing Ciri had felt to it anyway. She savored it, every single moment until they reached their destination.

They circled the tower once, twice. There seemed to be a round room on the top with wide windows and a broken wall on one side where they could land.

He focused on his bond with the griffin and her closeness didn't give her any unwanted insights, which was a relief, albeit meek one. Being around her felt strange all by itself. There was something about her he felt he knew very well, but couldn't quite put a finger on. And a part of him felt it was for the best not to try.

When the griffin went for the third circle, the Archer leaned closer to his neck; the beast careened and slipped between two columns, landing them in the middle if the room with a screech.

Ciri didn't linger, imagining the extra weight had to be uncomfortable for the animal, and carefully slid to her feet.

Then she took in the platform they were stood on, eyeing the various symbols carved into stone and the large basin standing at its center.

To her left there was a set of stairs leading down from the mountain, and straight ahead was what looked like an open doorway. Only it did not lead anywhere. It was where a portal could be opened.

Tentatively, she approached, allowing her fingertips to graze the cold stone of the archway.

The tower hall wasn't too big, but resembled a throne room with an empty doorway in the stead of a throne. It looked like a portal, and the girl immediately went to it. He watched from where he stood. Griffin sat behind him, hissing quietly, ears pulled back.

"What's that White Frost about?" the Archer asked.

"They say it is the beginning of the end. A winter so cold and ruthless nothing will survive. It has not yet reached our world, obviously, but it will. Shortly if the mages' calculations are correct."

She leaned in to examine the carvings in the wall. They made no sense to her. Must have been here since shortly after the Aen Seidhe settled in this world.

"Why does it scare you when no one knows if it will even happen, or when? It could be ages away."

"It is not just our world to consider. People are already trying to flee their worlds and settle in others. Many have already perished."

Ciri seen it. Had walked some of those worlds where there was nothing but snow and frost. She knew it was coming. As did the Aen Elle.

There was no sudden enlightenment or answers revealed. She didn't know why she had assumed there would be. Maybe her dream had nothing to do with the tower at all, and everything to do with him. _Archer_.

"Have you a name?"

Many worlds... She spoke with a tone of knowledge as if firsthand, and deep down he felt she might know, indeed. Especially if she was getting visions.

"Like everyone else."

"Will you share it?"

He reflected a moment. "What for if we'll go our separate ways after?"

Ciri wasn't so sure they would. Not for good anyway. She decided to keep that suspicion to herself, however.

She shrugged and gave a small smile. "Just nice to put a name to the face." He seemed reluctant, though. So she supposed he would just be Archer for now. "Curiosity waned? You are not exploring."

He cast a look around. "I'm not so sure I want to touch any of it. Not much to see here otherwise." He regarded her. "What about you? Was it worth it to nearly die on your way here?"

She considered that a moment and smiled. "Yes."

To be on an adventure with someone who did not expect anything from her, who did not want her dead but whose world would not shatter if she did — it felt freeing.

"It is close to dawn. We should go."

She wasn't elaborating. Neither was he, so she liked to play even.

He was fine with being even.

He shifted, and Griffin stood up giving a croak. The Archer hopped on his back and held out a hand, waiting for her.

Ciri took his hand and hoisted herself up onto the Griffin behind him, getting situated like before. "Ready."

The griffin was already taking off. He leapt off the edge diving down, then flew evenly over the mountains and then the sea.

Sirens burst every which way and into the water at the sight, but the griffin didn't play with them - the weight was less allowing for maneuvering.

They flew past the harbor and around the wall-like cliffs on the north, then snuck over the mountains where the castle was nestled to land three minutes' walk away from the gates.

This flight was just as thrilling as the last. She smiled the whole journey, savoring the sensation for she had a feeling it would not come again soon.

Archer dismounted with her and gestured for the griffin to take cover. The beast ran off into the closest forest.

"I'll walk you to the gate," he said and waved a hand toward the village inviting her to go. It was still dark, but the sky was getting lighter in color.

She was surprised by his insistence of walking her to the gate, but it wasn't an unpleasant offer. "Making sure I won't come running after you?" she teased lightly, starting on the path down towards the gate.

Laughter and hollering could still be heard from the village, but it seemed most had retired inside the inn or their own homes for the night.

"Perhaps," he said with a hint of a smirk. "I'm not easy to find, so there's no point."

"And yet I found you," she pointed out casually, undoing the clasps on his jacket while they walked in preparation of handing it back to him. Her shirt had still not fully dried but it was a lot better than it had been.

"You said you went for the tower. Not for me. If not for your boat, you wouldn't even know I was there."

"You were there. In my dream, you were in the tower," she admitted, slipping out of the fur and handing it to him.

The gate was already in sight. He took the jacket and put it on, not bothering with the straps yet. It was pleasantly warm.

"It's just a dream. Your mind connected two things it's been toying with. Nothing special."

"Of course," she said without conviction. Like she had said, she knew her dreams. She could tell the difference between idle ramblings of her own mind's creation, and images that came from another place.

"You're in hiding," she said. "Who hunts you?"

"I merely prefer to stay hidden. When no one knows about you, it's easier to keep your freedom."

"This is true," she agreed. "Once they know, it will never stop."

She'd resigned herself to that fate, and it brought her no happiness.

He stopped a few yards short of the gate and looked at her, ready to part. "Try not to get in trouble."

She smiled a little. "I never try to get in trouble."

She sobered a little, not sure why she felt so sad at this moment. It was not as if she even knew him. It was not as though they were close friends who would miss one another.

"Stay safe," she said, backing away towards the gate before eventually turning and picking up her speed.

_That's the plan, princess_, he thought, watching her go. Her shirt was torn across the back, tainted with blood. The skin beneath the tarnished fabric held no scars.

He turned and ran back toward the wood where the griffin waited.


	7. Chapter 7

Back inside the castle, Ciri maneuvered her way around passed out Skelligans in the main hall on the way to her rooms. A few were still going strong, pounding tankard after tankard of mead with seemingly no intention to quit.

She made it to her quarters without interruptions but that is where her good luck ended. She entered and closed the door behind her, starting when a candle suddenly ignited to reveal a silhouette by the window.

Avallac'h.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ciri tried to still her racing heart and the hand that had automatically reached for her sword. "Are you trying to get yourself hurt?"

"Are you?" He turned to face her and in his eyes she saw a quiet rage. She had only seen that once before and it had been quick them, sudden, and had vanished as soon as it had come.

This was different. This had been building.

"What are you talking about?" She pulled her sword and scabbard over her head and rested it on the nearest table, trying not to meet the elf's gaze because, honestly, it made her feel some kind of way. Like a child who was about to get whipped with her father's belt.

He remained silent until she could avoid him no longer. His angry presence was suffocating. "Where have you been?"

"Couldn't sleep. Went for a walk."

"Try again. Without the lies this time."

Ciri said nothing, staring him down with my most stoic of expressions. As though she was still sticking to her explanation.

He approached and she felt the sudden need to step back, to retreat. But she didn't.

The elf towered over her like a dangerous shadow, peering down into her eyes with such intensity she felt as though she could crumble beneath his stare alone. And then his gaze shifted to the tear in her shirt, to the bloodstains on her arm. His smooth brow furrowed in immediate concern and he grasped for her. "You are hurt. Did he do this to you?"

Ciri blinked and slowly pulled away, watching him with mild confusion until the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "You read my mind." It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

Avallac'h's jaw tightened and that was confirmation enough.

"You read my mind!" Her anger flared, spiking rapidly, and her hands shot out to push violently against his chest. "You son of a whore! How could you?"

The blow had barely moved the elf at all and he caught her wrists with ease, holding them with the grip of a vice. "It was simple. As soon as you started concealing things from me, I dove inside. You do not get to keep secrets, Zireael. Not from me."

His voice was soft and yet he managed to deliver the words in such a way she felt as though he was screaming.

"Get your hands off me," she whispered angrily, trying to tug free of his grasp but he only increased its strength.

"No. There are things that must be said, things you need to understand."

"You need t–"

"I talk! You listen!" It was the first time he'd raised his voice during the entire conversation and as though he'd utilized magic she instantly fell silent. "You are toying with your life. Being reckless. Careless. Stupid. And what for? A handsome boy you met in the forest?"

Avallac'h sneered, his words mocking and cruel. "Do you think he will save you, Zireael? Is that it? Do you think he is your salvation?"

Tears pricked at her eyes. She silently shook her head.

"Did you ever stop to consider he might be dangerous? That he might be the enemy?" He paused, regarding her as if a revelation had just occurred. He leaned down and put his face very close to hers, his voice dangerously soft again. "Or is Eredin correct? Do you want him to find you, Zireael? Are you hungering for his touch? For the sweet words he will whisper in your ear as he makes you his whore? While you destroy the world?"

Her cheeks burned with anger and humiliation. Humiliation because he had touched on a slight truth and she was ashamed of it. Ashamed of how her body continued to respond to Eredin's taunting, even in her dreams. And angry because it had just become apparent not even her dreams were a place of privacy. Even there they would invade it – friend or foe, it did not matter.

Avallac'h seemed to calm slightly and straightened, releasing her wrists to tug at her torn shirtsleeve. "Take it off. I will heal you."

She shook free of him finally and hurriedly wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm fine."

"Get. Undressed. Now."

Ciri thought something might have broken in him. That she had pushed him too far. Because this was not the Avallac'h she knew. Even back in Tir Na Lia. He had always been authoritative, certainly. But never cruel. And he had never tried to use force against her before.

"No," she said, holding fast. "I need no healing. It has been dealt with."

Something unpleasant flashed in his eyes but he did not push the issue. "You are not to leave this room again without an escort, Zireael. And by that I mean me. Have I made myself understood?"

She bristled at that, straightened up a little to glare at him. "You are not my father. Nor my husband. You have no rights giving me orders!"

"I have every right," he countered, leaning down over her again. "Eredin and I disagree on many a thing, but in this he is correct: You are The Elder Blood. You belong to the Aen Elle."

She trembled with a mixture of fury, fear, and humiliation, the buzzing in her ears increasing the further she worked herself up. "Get out." She told the elf between clenched teeth. "Get out of my sight."

"With pleasure." He swept from the room like a bird of prey and shut the door behind him. She heard the turning of a lock.

* * *

Even though the horizon was beginning to turn pink, the Archer opted for going back to Undvik.

He wasn't fully honest with the girl. He knew about the prophecy.

Having spent the majority of his life among the non-humans, he had heard about it a number of times from different people, including his mother.

It was her voice reciting the lines in his head as he set his feet on the white-stone platform of the tower's top hall for the second time that night.

(_'I tell you that the time of the sword and axe approaches, the time of the Wolf's Blizzard. The Time of the White Frost and White Light, the Time of Madness and Disdain, Tedd Deireadh, the Final Age. The world will perish amidst ice and be reborn with the new sun. Reborn of the Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of a planted seed. A seed that will not sprout but burst into flames!'_)

He gestured 'fly', and Griffin flapped his wings taking off with a croak. He did a quick circle above the man, then dove down toward the land beneath. Probably for a hunt, if there was any worthy prey.

The Archer turned his eyes up to the top landing crowned with a doorway, and began to slowly climb the stairs. His footfalls, as quiet as they were, sent a shuffling, rustling sound around the columns, making it as if someone was following him.

He thought about the girl with ashen hair resembling his own. There was a lot about her that stirred him as eerily familiar, but he was hesitant to dig deeper into that idea, as if there was something better left untouched.

Like a sleeping viper, tightly coiled.

He stopped a dozen feet short from the empty arch and studied the symbols. They didn't immediately inspire any meaning, but his mind kept spinning around the girl and the prophecy.

She looked like the one who could have the Elder Blood. That would explain her fear. No one knew exactly how to stop the foretold Frost, nor whether survival was an option.

He wondered who could have been preparing her for such task. Ermion didn't seem the type, nor that older witcher whom he saw in the woods with her. Witchers didn't care much about prophecies, nor fulfilling them. There had to be someone else. Or someones.

Like the Lodge of witches he had heard about. Those were ruthless enough to step over any bodies on their way to their goals. If they had their hooks in the girl, she was a dead girl walking, regardless of what they wanted from her.

_Not so unfounded now, her fears, are they?_

He stepped closer, sweeping his gaze over the arch and its engravings. He felt her fingertips buzz as if willing to touch the stone, to feel it, to probe...

He balled his hands into fists, just looking.

The sun was rising behind him; shadows were shifting on the columns as if an invisible hand pulling down a dark veil revealing the white of the stones. The columns sparkled in the brightening sunlight like diamond dust, so did the arch itself. In the sun, it looked like it was made of hardened snow.

And he felt the cold emanating from it. A faint puff of smoke formed at his exhale. Something deep within him trembled, like a silent scream of self-preservation instinct that had never let him down.

He backed away slowly from the doorway, then jogged down the few stairs and toward the opening in the wall. He saw Griffin flying over the mountain.

He called, and the beast came for him.

They didn't linger, leaving Undvik for the druid forest, picking their route carefully as they flew along the empty and rocky shores to stay unseen by any early-bird sailors readying their nets for a fishing trip.

The royal celebrations were over.

* * *

They slept in, but even when they came downstairs to the sunlight spilling through the tall windows, they were still alone in the keep.

Geralt anticipated his brethren to arrive after twilight or early next morning.

Uncertain of what to do next, he searched Yennefer's face. "I wouldn't want to leave you here alone."

"No?"

She had been awake for a while, enjoying the warmth beneath the blankets provided by his body and the simple act of sleeping beside him as she'd hoped would have been their future going forward.

It wasn't long before they eased out from beneath the covers, redressed in warmer clothing and headed downstairs.

"Why not? Don't think I'd survive a few days alone in the musty coldness? I know you don't know me as well as you used to, but I assure you, I'm capable of tending to myself."

Geralt smiled. "I trust you're perfectly capable of that. But I wish I could stay for company."

"Then stay," she said and reached for his hand, touching her fingers to the inside of his palm. "At least until your brothers show up."

Geralt sighed. "Had it not be Ciri, I would. I'd stay longer. But Ciri has no time."

"That she doesn't," Yennefer added sadly and with a nod of concern, withdrawing her hand. "Don't worry about me, I've already sent for Triss."

"All right," he nodded. "If you're sure. There are no horses here, though, so… I'll need your help getting to Novigrad."

"As if I'd have sent you back there on horse. Time is of the essence." She started back upstairs, gesturing for him to follow. "Are you going to meet up with Zoltan before your meet with Dijkstra?"

"Yes. I'd rather arrive to their Cabaret first."

Yennefer walked over to the vanity, slipped the other elixir she'd made the day before into his pocket, somewhere he could carry it in case he needed it and then produced the portal he needed.

"Don't do anything too risky without me."

Geralt gave her an impish look. "You doubt my ability to protect myself, sorceress?"

"When it comes to Ciri?" she asked, a small smile on her face, one that stretched knowingly. "We both know you'd jump into a fire for her." And that she would jump right after him or even ahead. "That at times we can both be a bit reckless." But it didn't matter as long as they were able to protect her.

"Even so…" He stroked a finger across her cheek, smiling subtly. "I think we'll do fine. We have to."

"For her sake. For ours." Not that it was a thought on his mind, anymore. She leaned into the touch slightly, smiling softly, gesturing to the portal he appeared to be stalling.

Geralt gave her a parting look and stepped in after a moment's hesitation.

He hated how many portals he had used in the past few days. He longed for traditional way of travel more than he could put to words.

* * *

**"**I'm so happy you're safe." Triss tightened her arms around his neck, her hair tickling his face. She lingered in the embrace, and Geralt let her, lowering his face in the crook of her shoulder and returning the hug.  
"What could have happened?" he murmured. "I wasn't alone."

"So I've heard," she said, pulling away. She was smiling, but her eyes were not. "I received Yennefer's message, but decided to wait for you. I thought you'd need help with Dijkstra. I'm willing to do anything for Ciri and you. I will go to Kaer Morhen when it's done."

He looked over to where Zoltan stood at the counter with Dandelion. He gave an imperceptible shrug and averted his eyes as if he never listened in.

"All right," he said, looking back to Triss. "Thank you."

She smiled. "Anything I can do, Geralt."

"My first stop won't be him, though."

"It doesn't matter. I might be useful somewhere else. I received Keira's message – she's on her way to Kaer Morhen, as well. Is Yennefer there?"

"She is."

"Good," Triss said, content. "She'll have company while we're busy here. Keira must be there already, or, perhaps, in another hour. She's known to be a bit of a slowpoke at times."

* * *

"It's not safe for you to stay in these woods," Ermion said instead of a greeting when the Archer came for supper shortly before sunset.

"Why? What happened? Some drunk fisherman saw us again? I was being careful—"

"It's much worse, my boy," the druid shook his head in lament. "Much worse. The girl you keep seeing - she has a mentor, an elven mentor. He's an elven sage, and he asked about you. Nothing good will come out of him finding you."

The girl couldn't keep the secret. The Archer sighed; of course not if your mentor is an elven sage. It was probably the one pressuring her into the White Frost deal, he reflected.

"Very well, I'll see where I can sneak away to."

"Be careful, my boy. Your mother hasn't been hiding you from his kind without reason. I told you to stay away from the girl."

"It was an accident, the town is too small."

"Is the whole Ard Skellig too small for the two of you? I'm talking about Undvik, boy. I know it's not what you planned, but destiny has its ways. Dangerous ways."

The Archer kept his mouth shut and obediently refrained from commenting on destiny. It was a touchy subject with dryads and druids alike.

"I'll depart shortly."

"Stay safe, boy. Stay hidden, for they are leaving soon."

"All right."

* * *

Geralt didn't want to tell Triss when he went to Dijkstra, but when he got to his bath house, she appeared from out of nowhere and was all smiles and cheer. Her presence helped absolutely nothing: Dijkstra didn't want to hear anything about any Wild Hunt riders or fighting someone else's wars.

Roche, who he arrived to later that day, was all for helping his friend out. Ves was even eager to start. The time was getting toward the night, but they decided to set out immediately. It was a long way to Kaer Morhen, and they had some business of their own to take care of on their way.

The Witcher left their camp with them, but rode in the different direction – back to Novigrad.

Dandelion and Priscilla were busy with their new theater piece coming out next week, which left them some time alone with Zoltan and Triss to talk about plans and strategies.

Triss felt they still needed to contact the sorceresses of the Lodge, however she couldn't reach them yet and lamented the lack of time. Zoltan didn't care about any additional magic and claimed that three magicians and a druid were more than enough for a very much mortal bunch of elvish cocksuckers that wanted to snatch our lass away.

Triss shook her head and retired for the night, as reluctant as it felt when she cast a parting glance at him ascending the stairs.

Zoltan and Geralt sat some more, sharing drinks and exchanging meagre news to merely pass some time in relative peace. It felt like the battle was already breathing down their necks.

It felt cold.

* * *

The following day was dreadfully dull and Ciri spent most of it in solitude. A serving girl would deliver her meals every now and then, but other than that she saw no one.

Avallac'h did not show himself until sunset when he attempted to coax her into a training session. One she immediately declined with a very rude hand gesture.

He left after that, looking tired. He'd probably not had much sleep the previous night either.

She resented him for locking the door behind him when he went, and as always when people tried to tell her what to do, rebellion bloomed within her at that moment. As well as a new purpose for the night.

Ciri spent a few minutes staring out the window at the village below, then leaned out as far as the glass barrier would allow, peering down at the cliffs beneath her room. It would not be impossible for her to climb down. She'd had a lot of practice climbing the walls of the keep at Kaer Morhen as a child and this was not nearly as complicated as that had been.

She dressed and armed herself, wrapping one hand in a cloth before she broke through the frail glass. She stilled for a few seconds, listening for footsteps outside her door. But the sound of the break had not been terribly loud and it was soon made clear no one had noticed. So she continued, pushing out the broken glass until she was able to slip through the window without cutting herself.

She carefully moved along the ledge until she found the best spot to start her descent, placing her feet and fingers into the grooves of the castle wall, slowly but surely making her way down to the rocky surface below.

Once there, Ciri put her back to the wall and headed for the stone steps beneath the bridge, climbed onto them, and broke into a jog. She pulled her hood up to conceal her hair which always stood out like a light in the darkness, and headed for the docks.

* * *

The eastern end of the island was vastly a dead land with broken and burnt trees. Animals and people had left or perished, and it suited him just fine to sneak through that area. It lay in the direction he had picked for destination. He was Hindarsfjall-bound.

The cataclysm site, as the druids called it, still buzzed with energy and memories of what happened here. Just like in the tower the night before, the Archer was tempted to peek, to probe the earth for her secrets, but something was stopping him. An instinct deep inside vibrated in alarm.

Even then, however - had he had more time – he might have caved. But he was on the run again.

They jogged through the deadlands until they reached the ocean and settled on the shore to wait the short time until the twilight thickened. There wasn't much to hunt around except for a few drowners that knew no fear the sirens had learned. Dinner had to wait until they got to another shore.

* * *

**"**Why are ye headin' there alone at night, lassie?" the captain of The Sea Hag asked as Ciri dropped a heavy pouch of coins in his palm.

"I have friends there." Well, one. Singular. Maybe. She hadn't seen what had happened to Skjall as they were escaping The Wild Hunt. If he had even survived…

But she needed to find out. And if he was alive, she had a pouch of coins for him, as well. He deserved it for the help he and his family had given her.

The ship set sail soon after she'd boarded and as soon as they were out of the bay and out at sea, she relaxed, leaning against the railing and watching the water splash against the hull as they went. It was not too long a journey. Less than an hour because the wind had inexplicably picked up. The captain was praising the Gods by the time they docked. He and his crew began unloading crates and barrels and Ciri went to land, thanking them before she went.

She was not entirely certain of the direction of Skjall's village, but the island was small and the people few. It was likely the inhabitants of this village – Larvik – would know of the village that had been attacked by The Wild Hunt. Word spread quickly.

She wandered through the small town until she came to an establishment claiming to be a tavern. It looked too small for that, but who was she to argue. She stepped inside, hoping the owner of the tavern would ply her with some information.

* * *

Geralt vanished through the portal and Kaer Morhen was plunged into a new definition of isolation. She'd spent time at the place, but never alone. The witchers guarded it with their lives as it held their last remaining secrets and means of survival and for the most part, there was always someone to maintain that and yet it didn't escape her that they'd abandoned all of it for the sake of Ciri.

To protect her.

It made all of them that much more valuable.

If anything were to happen to Yennefer or even Geralt during this battle, she could rest assured knowing that there were other people out there, people who only had her best interests and well fair at heart.

As they always had.

She watched the space he'd been in for some time and then headed for the laboratory while she waited on the rest to arrive. The Witchers would need elixirs come the battle.

She'd managed to mix together thirteen bottles by the time she decided to take a break, heading upstairs and for the kitchen to see if she could scourge up something to eat.

"Took you long enough to join me," a familiar voice said, her hand on wrapped around a mug of mead, the bottle of wine Geralt and Yennefer had opened the night before beside her.

"I didn't know you were here."

"You're losing your touch," she retorted. "Distracted?"

"Focused," Yennefer emphasized, walking over to the table, grabbing the wine to pour herself a hefty about into the spare mug that had been left there overnight. She was going to need it.

"How'd you—"

"Triss got your message."

Yennefer arched a brow, sitting back, straining her magic and its reach to feel for her.

"She isn't here."

"Apparently Triss and Geralt had unfinished business."

Yennefer's features hardened and she brought the wine to her lips, drinking deeply. Keira smirked, triumphant and entertained by the fact that she'd hit a nerve. "I say something wrong?"

She knew she had.

"Nothing that isn't old news."

"Can't be that old if it still makes your face scrunch up as if you've been sucking on something sour."

Not that it was any of her business.

Yennefer took another sip, set the mug aside and rose to her feet, helping herself—and Keira—to a piece of cured meat from the bag that she had seen Geralt get it from the night before. Yennefer dropped it in front of Keira without a plate, going in search of one for herself, along with a sharp knife to take her time carving it up.

"How about we steer clear of the gossip and focus on the actual issue."

Keira's expression hardly wavered. "That issue isn't here as of yet and I've time to kill."

"Do you?" Yennefer asked, violet eyes blazing as she moved to sit down opposite the blonde sorceress. Yennefer did it with calm, and she knew that she was being dramatic, but at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to care.

"On the off stage of your ongoing affair?"

"No," Yen retorted. She had no idea what they were but definitely not off.

At least she wasn't going to let it go that way.

"Then why didn't you go with him to Novigrad."

"I'm setting up things here."

Keira sipped at her wine, took a look around, and then shrugged. "Is that so?"

"I'm playing host. Who'd receive you if I wasn't here?"

Keira shrugged again. "The Witchers?"

"They're not here yet."

Yennefer cut the meat into pieces, slowly got to her feet, picking up the wine to gesture for Keira to follow, hopeful she'd get the message that Yennefer was done talking about Geralt and herself.

"Let's find you somewhere to set up for the night and then discuss some plans."

* * *

As soon as the first stars began to twinkle on the darkening canopy, the griffin took off, keeping to the north. They circled the island around its northern side, swept past the mountain ridge, and landed in the forest at its slope.

He left Griffin to hunt in the forest while he set his feet south toward the village. There were still lights visible from the air as they approached, there he would have his dinner and directions.

Used to running and being fast at it, he arrived to the village gates barely half an hour later. The village was called Larvik, and people he met on his walk through seemed content and smiled often. They didn't seem to be the type to go to beds early.

The Archer found the tavern in the middle of the village across from an open horse shed. It was rather small inside and stuffed with smells he wasn't used to, living in the wild. It took him a moment to force himself to not bolt out. Trying to breathe in shallow intakes, he went for the counter, pulling his hood off.

Humans didn't like hoods or anything concealing the face from them. Spooked or suspicious people were no fun to deal with.

"Aye," the man behind the counter said, scratching his beard. "I know the village ye speak of. Lofoten, it's called. North-west of here. An hour on horseback, more on foot."

He squinted at Ciri through beady eyes. "You're not plannin' on goin' there now, are ye? Alone? It's dark.

"Only time I will be able to, I'm afraid," she said with a small smile, fishing a few coins from her pocket to hand it to him. "Do you think anyone in this village would be willing to lend me a h–"

She'd cast a quick glance at the person who had just entered and stepped up beside her, and her eyes widened when he lowered his hood.

Archer. "What are you doing here?" she blurted out, taken aback.

His heart skipped a beat, stalling his step for a second as he approached the counter and the familiar girl at it.

"I can ask you the same thing."

The innkeeper glanced between them and scoffed. "Ye siblings?"

Ciri wasn't sure whether or not telling the innkeeper they were siblings would draw more or less attention should someone come asking. She supposed it would not really matter.

"We are," the Archer said to the innkeeper, but his eyes never left the girl.

She was studying him in return. He looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Either he was here simply by coincidence, or he was one hell of an actor. "I have business here," she told him simply.

It was beginning to get eerie. What could she possibly want here?

Whatever it was, any sort of conversation was going to be everyone's business.

The Archer turned to the innkeeper who was wiping the mugs and smiling like someone waiting for some interesting show to continue.

"Fried meat and water, make it two, and thank you," he dropped a few coins on the counter.

The innkeeper swept them off, counted, and nodded. "Have to wait a tad for meat. Yer water comin."

The Archer led the way to the only table at the wall occupied by one man, too drunk to sit straight. Ciri followed, a tad reluctant only because she doubted she'd ever manage to get to Lofoten now.

He caught the man's chin in his hand and made him look up from under dropping eyelids.

"You can't sit here anymore and need to go home right now," the Archer said, pushing the thought into his head.

He nodded feebly, had a hard time getting up, then stumbled for the exit.

The Archer pushed his mug for the edge of the table and sat down, inviting the girl to do the same.

"What business can be after dark on another island?"

She sat down opposite him on the table he'd chosen, eyeing the drunk he'd sent on his way with mild fascination until he was out the door and they were the only two left. "I could ask you the same," she said, mirroring his earlier response.

The Archer sighed, a tad annoyed, and gave her a reprimanding look. "I had to leave your island because your elf mentor came to druids to ask about you and me."

Ciri stared. That was not the answer she'd expected. "I'm sorry. I did not tell him about you, but… he knew."

He squinted at her. "Yes, elven sages are perceptive beyond human limits. I know.

"Not just perceptive," she grumbled. "They enter your mind and steal your secrets."

"Not that it matters as much as your being somewhere else and once again at night." Annoyance dimmed as soon as he remembered about the White Frost and her fears. "You're running from him now?"

She leaned back in her seat, silent when the innkeeper approached their table with water. When he'd gone, she met Archer's gaze again. "Sort of."

It felt more complicated than that. She was not outright fleeing. Not because she feared for her life. "Sometimes I think it would suit him best if he could keep me in a hidden cage and only take me out when he needed me. Like a puppet. It is not in my nature to blindly follow orders to please others."

"It's not in anyone's nature," he said after a swallow of water. "Not even dogs."

He studied her, thinking over the image of that mentor she painted.

"Why do you depend on him if what he wants is against your nature?"

His intense gaze across the table made her feel oddly self-conscious. She turned her head slightly to better conceal her scar, grabbing the cup of water to run her fingers along its handle, but she didn't drink. "It's complicated. We have common enemies. Enemies I am doubtful I will be able to defeat without him."

"You have other friends beside him, don't you? Even witchers. What enemies could be worse than witchers and druids?"

Her lips twitched in a sad smile. It was tempting to tell him everything. But that would be careless. Risky. And selfish. It was selfish of her to even sit here with him now. The more time he spent with her, the bigger the chance he'd be swept up into the havoc.

"Tell me something about yourself," she said because once more she felt out of balance. He knew more about her than she did about him.

A mix of faint defeat and understanding swept through his features. He would feel the same way. He did. He couldn't understand himself fully, either. He never wanted to know anything about anyone that didn't concern him.

But this time…

He spread his arms briefly in a mute touche gesture, sighing, "Like what?"

"Why were you with the dryads?" she asked after a few seconds contemplation. "Did you drink the water?"

He shot a confused glance at the mug of water on the table, and then he realized what she meant.

It was once again a bit eerie how their lives seemed to cross here and there without their knowledge or will.

"I was granted a refuge there," he responded. "I lived there for some years. Fought with them and protected their land. Willingly."

"Because someone pursues you?" she did not expect him to tell her who. But it was quite clear that a person who needed refuge was in danger of some kind. More often than not from other people. "When I was ten I got lost in those woods. They made me drink." It seemed so long ago now. The memory itself was mostly a happy one. Because of Geralt. "It didn't work."

Surprise jolted through his gaze. He had never heard of a girl the Brokilon Water didn't work on. But if she truly had Elder Blood, it might be why.

"I've committed a crime and needed a place to stay where humans wouldn't find me. There is no better place for it than Brokilon."

Ciri tilted her head, curious. "What did you do?"

"Killed a man."

Ciri watched him a long moment, searching his face for signs of emotions. He was hard to read. "Did he deserve it?"

He swallowed, leaning back in the chair, pondering; it squealed softly.

He shrugged. "Hardly. But I had to make a choice between two bad ones. I chose."

She nodded, intrigued but doubtful he'd want to go into the details. Probably not a memory he cherished. "I understand. How did you meet your griffin?"

"That is how. It was what I chose."

That made his story even more intriguing. But it did not surprise her that he would choose to protect the griffin over a human man. If that is what had happened. To most elves – a half-elf – humans were scum. And often favored animals and beasts of nature. "I see."

A ghost of a sad simper swept over his mouth he hid behind the mug, taking another gulp. "You don't."

He sat the mug down and looked at the innkeeper who put their plates between them.

"Here ya go," he nodded and left them once again to pick up empty bottles from another table on his way to the counter.

"What do you need to do here at this hour?" the Archer asked. "In case you're not afraid to share that big secret with a murderer."

Ciri shrugged. "We're all murderers here."

She had not even realized she was hungry until the roast meat had been placed in front of her. Geralt and Yennefer would scold her for not using a knife and fork, but since the innkeeper had brought none she assumed it was not a usual custom here. "I'm looking for someone. A man who helped me last time I was here. I'd like to know if he is alright."

He took a bite of meat. It was well done, but still too hot.

"It's not a night-time mission. People around here sleep and rise with the sun and hide away from the dark. You have better chances after sunrise."

"After sunrise, it'd be harder to sneak away," she reasoned, picking up the meat from her plate and tearing off a chunk with her teeth.

"Not if one is skilled at it." He swallowed another bite and picked up his mug. "People don't always pay as much attention as you think. They care most about their own problems."

"I am their problem," she retorted. "It is hard to sneak away when one is constantly under supervision."

She chewed and swallowed, considering him another moment. "Did he come to see you? 'My' elf? Or only Ermion?"

"Ermion. He told me to play it safe and pick another place. From the feel of it, he doesn't trust your elf friend. Or mentor, as he called him."

"Yes, that is a common theme these days," she said, laughing softly to herself.

She didn't think Avallac'h would seek the Archer. Or hurt him. At least she hadn't until last night. That anger in his eyes… "What is your name?"

He regarded her with interest, chewing, then swallowed and asked: "Why?"

"Why not?" she countered lightly, taking another piece of her meal.

He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another bite. "Life of a wanted criminal."

"Names don't much matter. I used to go by another name when I was wanted. I was still found."

She took a sip of water, putting her cup down. "Of course, I was not as cautious as you are now."

The Archer didn't care about people. But if that girl with powers of a seer and Elder Blood knew his name, her fixation and dreams might intensify.

He wasn't sure it was a good thing. But then again, she kept finding him without it.

"It's Kain."

"Kain," she repeated, tasting it on her tongue. She smiled. "I've been calling you Archer in my mind. I'm Ciri."

"Archer doesn't define me, but I get it."

He pushed the empty plate away and finished his water in one gulp, set the mug aside and regarded Ciri.

"You can find that village, but hardly the man you're looking for until it's morning. It's wiser to come at dawn and see from the distance where he is."

"If I go back to Kaer Trolde now, the chances of me managing to get away again diminishes greatly." She took her time with the last of her meal before following his example and pushing the plate away.

"I wouldn't be going back to someone who likes to dig around in my mind and lock me up until I'm needed, and damn the consequences and enemies and everything else." He shrugged. "But that's me. Unless he can open the portal to anywhere you are and snatch you by the scruff like a kitten, you don't have to behave like a slave. You have a choice." He paused, then added with a small wince: "And sometimes all choices are bad ones, but you have to choose anyhow."

"He cannot. He does not have that power." And thank the Gods she didn't believe in for that.

But she did need him to open the portal to The White Frost, so she could end it once and for all. If not for him, then for everyone else.

Still, it wasn't as though his anger would make his need for her any less. He could be as angry as he wanted; it still didn't change anything. "You are right. Why should I show him the respect he demands when he insists on treating me like an invalid child? And a prisoner at that!"

Kain leaned in over the table a little, locking her eyes to hers. "It doesn't matter what kind of enemies or trouble there is you think you can't take without someone when you give all of what you are away for their help. If you give yourself away, there is nothing left, and you won't be able to do anything for anyone ever. Because you can't pour water into anyone's cup when your own is empty."

He stood up and headed for the exit. She would have to choose by herself.

Ciri knew he was right. Deep down, she knew. No matter the guilt that welled up inside her.

It was different hearing it from someone who had no motivation – whether good or bad – to impact her choices. More honest. True.

She stood and headed after him through the exit.

Kain cast a gander at the horses as he passed by on his way toward the northern gate – up the road. Horses were a liability, especially at night. He pulled the hood on and accelerated his pace. The night wouldn't go on forever, he had to make himself familiar with the area before it ended.

Unlike Kain, Ciri stopped by the horses locked in a makeshift stable, reaching for one of them to pat his muzzle. They were beautiful. But they were not Kelpie.

She pushed away and looked to the sky, eyeing the stars to gauge which direction the village of Lofoten would be in. North-West, the innkeeper had said.

After a moment's contemplation, she went for the gate as well, passing through it and onto the road that would take me where she needed to go.

Kain followed the path for a while, keeping an eye on the sky. There was a good portion of dark hours left, should be enough to find a cave or any place to hide during the day. The griffin was probably still hunting or dining, he figured, but he wanted to pick up his satchel. After a bit of walking, he turned off the road into the woods.

Kain was a good distance ahead of her when Ciri saw him turn towards the forest, probably to meet up with his griffin.

She didn't follow. She stuck to the road that would take her to Lofoten.

It was dangerous, certainly, but also incredibly freeing. Just like when they'd been flying the night before. She felt more like herself than she had in a while out here in the dark with the animals howling in the distance.

She kept her hood on, blending in as well as she was able, alert and aware of her surroundings at all times. She missed Kelpie more than ever. Her trusty companion. Her beautiful mare who could run like a demon.

Absentmindedly, Ciri rubbed her bracelet.

* * *

Kain jogged between the trees, tuning his senses and listening. He remembered where he had left the satchel, but also wanted to determine where the griffin was. Griffin wasn't far, and he was ripping into a freshly killed deer. Kain didn't distract him and found the needed tree, then waved a hand lightly, sweeping the satchel's strap off the branch high up. It fell down into his arms. He hung it onto his shoulder, adjusted the sword, and jogged further, picking his way instinctively.

Soon enough he sensed the girl – she was still following the road. He stayed hidden in the woods, considering their agendas.

There was a distinctive pull that he felt, and it didn't lie the way she was going. There were dangerous things she could encounter even on the road, but she didn't ask for his help. He had no place to push it.

He followed the direction through the woods for a while, keeping an eye on her. There was a pack of wolves – they saw him from the distance. He stood still looking back at them. They went their way, and so did he.

The road the girl was following was in a fork. He considered once again, then turned north-east. He wanted to see what was luring him from that forest.

* * *

The moon shifted positions on the sky while Ciri walked but she could not tell how much time had passed since she started. It was cold. Her breath fogged in front of her face. But she was comfortable enough, her clothes warm this time.

She heard something screech and briefly paused to examine the heavens, half-expecting to see Kain and his Griffin circling her up above. But there was nothing.

It wasn't until she recognized she'd stepped into marsh-land that she recognized the sound.

Drowners.

Three of them clumsily moving along the swampy ground, their long arms flailing and flapping as they ate from a carcass of something that had rotted long ago.

She put her hand on her sword, backing off the road and out into the treeline opposite them, moving on stealthy feet, intending to sneak by if possible.

It wasn't possible. One of them saw her, or smelled her. He cocked his head in her direction and waddled toward her with an eager gurgle.

She drew her sword and held it in position.

_One. Just one for now._

She'd killed plenty before, even without her powers. But she did not like them in groups, did not like being surrounded.

It jumped at her, its round belly jiggling like jelly as his arms swatted for her chest. She twirled her sword and met his advances, severing a flailing arm and igniting a shriek of agony from the creature.

His kin noticed.

She moved quickly, slashing at the drowner while he was sufficiently preoccupied, intent to finish him before his friends reached them.

Swallow cut trough him like a razor through soft butter, splitting his torso in half, entrails and guts spilling from both ends.

The other two were on her instantly. One set of claws raked over her back, much like the sirens had done the night before. She bit her teeth together and bore the pain. It wasn't too bad. Her cloak had taken most of the brunt.

_It's nothing. _

Yes.

_Don't let them corner you._

I won't, Geralt.

She delivered a sharp kick to one drowner's stomach, pushing him back, enough for her to retreat and put some more space between them.

Now they were both in front of her and both charged.

She swung her sword. She twirled. She ducked. She danced.

She came out victorious, though not entirely unscathed. Other than their claws and teeth, the drowners had a mean punch.

Ciri licked across her lower lip and tasted blood. It had split. It didn't matter. She still won.

She wiped drowner blood off her face with her sleeve as she found her way back to the road, cleaning her sword on the patches of grass before slowly putting it away.

Not too far now. It couldn't be. She saw smoke over the treetops in the far distance. Chimney smoke. Lofoten.

* * *

It resembled a cave, but wasn't quite it. As Kain approached, it seemed like something grew into the mountain's slope and the trees and their roots framed the arch with a huge double door. The green ivy-like tresses hung like shredded curtains around the entrance.

He listened, his eyes closing. No one was inside. Not that he sensed.

He pushed the doors, gradually applying pressure, until one half budged. He slipped inside and let it close behind him.

It was a temple, a very old one and thus minimalistic in its design. In the semi-circle there were niches with braziers – still burning – separated by columns. In the center of the hall there was a big stony basin; a female figure sat in it, buried in the basin up to her hips, flowers bloomed around her. Her arms were slightly spread in a gentle inviting embrace.

He knew close to nothing about Skelligan Gods, but he felt it was a divine motherly figure. He recalled hearing some villagers pray to the Great Mother.

_Freyja…_

The flames flickered simultaneously in the braziers; shadows danced in the stony niches. He was no longer sure if he thought of the name or heard it in a gust of wind.

It didn't really matter. She delivered it one way or another.

Kain studied the statue, walking slowly around her. She emanated warmth and care, just what the people of these stark and cold islands needed. He felt his fingers prickle with temptation to touch the statue, but he didn't have to do it to sense her spirit's presence. This temple had been taken care of by people or priests, but the Goddess returned the affection.

He slowly backed away toward the doors, then left the temple as quietly as he came. He would be coming back, but not tonight.

He stuck to the road this time as he ran in the direction of the village in the west.

* * *

Ciri reached the village before long, somewhat more uncomfortable and out of breath than she had been when she started. The place seemed almost abandoned. There were no lights in the windows and smoke only came from one chimney. Their rest of the houses looked cold and solitary.

She found Skjall's home with ease. She didn't remember being brought in there but had a clear memory of leaving to get to the sauna. With Skjall's sister, Astrid.

She placed a hand on the front door and gently pushed. It swung open with ease, no bolt or lock in place. The inside was dark.

"Hello?" Ciri called softly into the darkness. There was no answer. No signs of movement or life at all.

She stepped across the threshold, cautious, and searched the house. No one was here.

The remains in the fireplace were cold. Untouched.

There was two loafs of bread on the kitchen table. They were mouldy. As untouched as the fireplace.

No one had been here for a long time…

Had they all fled when The Wild Hunt left? Relocated?

Or…

Ciri sucked in a sharp breath of air, fear and guilt cutting at her heart like a knife.

She was tempted to sink into one of the chairs but didn't allow herself.

The house with the lit fireplace. There had to be people there. She needed to talk to them.

* * *

Kain stumbled upon a few dead drowners, and it stalled him while he gave the scene a look. They were freshly killed and stunk horribly. The cuts were even, made with a good sword.

_She just can't stay away from trouble for long, can she. _

He got to the village and caught his breath while surveying it from a hill. Most houses were dark and looked cold, unattended, except for one where the chimney smoked. It looked like there was a battle here not too long ago, and although most the rubble was cleaned out, there were many obvious signs and broken sheds and pig feeders and the pens were pointing in that direction.

After a while, he saw Ciri walk out of one of the houses. She looked lost and confused. And sad.

He hesitated, then started down the slope path toward her.

* * *

The next door _was_ locked. Ciri pushed against it but it didn't yield.

She took a step back and slammed her fist against the wood in several sharp knocks, barely waiting before repeating the process.

It took an eternity before she heard a dead bolt slide away from inside and finally the door opened. An old woman appeared in the crack, peering out with a look of mingled fear and confusion. She eased up a little seeing it was another female on her doorstep.

"Skjall and Astrid," Ciri said, forgoing the pleasantries and gesturing for their house. "Where are they?"

The old woman blinked up at her. "Why, they're dead, child. Like everyone else. Those black riders… Cut everyone down. Except for me and a few of the priestesses. We were in The Garden when it happened."

Ciri swallowed thickly and stumbled away from her, feeling bile rise at the back of her throat.

Kain waited while she talked to someone through the ajar door. The wind was blowing in his direction and carried the news. Ciri staggered back from the door.

He approached her, stopping a few feet short, watching her. She seemed like she could faint.

The whole world was spinning and even though Ciri moved she couldn't feel her legs. They'd gone numb.

She turned and suddenly found herself face to face with Kain. She should have been surprised but she wasn't. She was relieved.

She stepped into him, arms at her sides, and let her forehead fall to his shoulder; eyes closed, breathing uneven. "I got them all killed."

He hesitated a moment, then his arm automatically came around her to support. He felt it as soon as his palm rested on her back. There was a torn fabric and blood beneath it. She was shivering.

Both reluctant and confused, he still couldn't fight the pull of it all. He was still here, and she was next to him. Kain didn't have to come here, but he did, nonetheless.

He held her for a long moment, then coaxed toward the house she had stepped out before.

He started to move and as if her legs had decided to follow him on their own accord, Ciri moved, too, letting him guide her towards Skjall's emtpy house. She had no reservations going back there. What would it change? He would still be dead.

She sank into a chair at the table and pushed her hair out of her eyes, pulling out the pins that kept it in place. It felt too tight against her scalp. "You followed," she said, regarding him in the darkness. "Why?"

Kain slid the satchel off his shoulder to the floor, then shrugged off his cloak, dropped it over a chair's back before approaching her. He crouched in front of her, skimming her figure with a sharp eye, searching for wounds.

"I don't know," he admitted eventually. "I felt like it.

"Where did they get you? The drowners."

It took her a moment to even remember the drowners.

She blinked as if coming awake and straightened in her chair, the pain returning with her heightened consciousness. "Back. I'm sure it's nothing. It doesn't hurt too bad."

She undid the bindings of her cloak anyway, assuming he wanted to check the wounds weren't too deep.

Kain shifted behind her to see if it really wasn't too bad.

There were a few, one of which deeper than the other ones. It didn't seem too bad, but given it was the necrophages' gift, it might get infected later. She wasn't a witcher. She needed to be careful with that.

He rubbed his hands together; they warmed up as the energy began to flow and prickle his skin. He held a palm over her wounds, then slowly moved it to cover all the damage. His palm got hotter releasing the healing power, and flashes of her fight jolted through his mind like spooked birds. He didn't let his mind linger on it, focusing on his work.

Ciri closed her eyes as he worked, feeling better all at once. It wasn't just the healing of her torn skin, it was the tension easing from her sore muscles and her mind focusing on pleasant thoughts.

It ended much too quickly for her liking.

When it was done, he pulled another chair from the table and lowered on it, stilling for a moment to let the lightheadedness pass.

"What happened to these people you wanted to see?"

She followed him with her gaze as he rounded the table and found a chair of his own. He looked tired. Was it the healing? "You said you're a wanted man. I am wanted, too. But not just by the law." She hesitated a moment, still unsure whether or not she should tell him the full truth. He deserved to know. She supposed she was just frightened he'd turn and flee, like any sensible person would. "Have you ever heard of the Red Riders? Humans call them The Wild Hunt."

Kain frowned in thought. "It's like a legend, some ghostly procession riding across the skies dowsed in colors or shining, and no living thing should be caught in their way. Is that it? Some people believe they're demons, some believe they're dark fey."

"Yes," she nodded. "They are not ghosts, nor demons. They are Aen Elle. And believe me when I say, they are very real. They are ruthless when it comes to getting what they want, what they need. The people of this village… they got in their way."

Kain remembered the dreams he was having many times through his life. Sometimes he saw the same places, sometimes different, but the core sense stayed: he was being hunted and had to keep moving to get away. Sometimes they got him, and he woke up immediately. Sometimes he woke up while still trying to get away. He had a feeling she was describing something akin to that happening to her.

"Are they after you? Why?"

"I have something they want." She pulled her cloak back on to keep the cold out, watching him with a tired expression. "What everyone wants. And if I give it to them… this world will be overrun by the Red Riders. They will invade and kill. This will be their world and those of us who survive will be their slaves."

Kain gave her a weary look. "You plan on continuing with riddles? What do they want from you? Your power – whatever it is? I'm sure there are seers among them, as well."

Ciri smiled a little. "I am not a seer."

Sobering, she regarded him another long moment. "Swear to me you won't spill my secret? It seems the whole world knows sometimes. I forget the knowledge is actually highly restricted."

Kain scoffed softly. "I believe you've got a clear idea of how I live. Who would I tell? Griffin? I would have told him already about your Elder Blood. You gave it out with that fear for the White Frost. What I'm asking is what can you do with that blood that they need so badly? You don't seem to know exactly how to stop the Frost if it comes. I don't suppose they know it, either."

Ciri stared at him, completely taken aback by his revelation. He knew? He was a lot more perceptive than he let on. "I can travel through time and space. In the blink of an eye. At will. Without tiring," she said eventually. "Amongst other things.

"The Aen Elle wants access to that power. So they can raid the worlds like they used to. Their methods of travel are limited now."

It took a moment or three to process. He stared at her, surprised and incredulous.

What she told him about the other worlds and the White Frost made sense now - it was firsthand knowledge, after all.

"You said you couldn't you your power. You're scared they would track you." He pondered, regarding her. "You plan on running forever? Hiding from a horde of magic riders? Or that elf has an actual plan to save you?"

"They'd find me instantly. It's been… six years now since I escaped their world. They have been hunting me ever since." She nodded. "I was alone for a long time. I can't take them on my own. But now that I have reunited with my family and friends, we are preparing for battle. They are out gathering allies as we speak."

"Does that mean those riders can be killed like any others?"

She spread her arms in a quick gesture. "As all other elves, yes. But they are hard to kill. A lot of them are mages as well as extraordinary fighters. They've had centuries to hone their skills, after all.

"And their numbers far outweigh ours. We are aiming for the King and his three generals. They are the biggest threats."

It was a lot to carry around for a young girl. She was strong, but there was a breaking point looming on the horizon.

"It's no wonder you're so insane at times," he murmured, a fleeting smile touched the corners of his mouth, then died out. He sighed and looked at her. "I know how it feels about these people, but it's not you who killed them. It's the riders. You can't be blamed for what they do."

Ciri liked his smile. It made her stomach do a strange flippy sensation, and briefly ignited a smile of her own.

"The man I came here to see was called Skjall. He found me in the water, unconscious and wounded, and he brought me here. He and his family tended to my wounds, showed me kindness and hospitality." She swallowed. "I should have left here as soon as I woke. Instead I stayed for an hour more. And that was all it took. The Hunt came. We fought. And then we fled.

"Skjall, he… distracted them so I could get away. And I suppose he paid with his life. It is likely now someone I love will end up the same way."

Kain glanced around the abandoned room. It was cold and dead. He knew all inhabitants were not among the living, anymore. The house and its soul died with them.

He peered at her. "Don't say things like that before they happen. It might not be like this. Your friends are not of simple folk who cannot fight a magic army. These people, surely, stood no chance. But it wasn't your doing."

"Then why does it still feel like I bring nothing but misery and death?"

It was more of a rhetorical question than anything, not one she expected him to answer.

A shadow passed over his face as she said it. He had been feeling the same thing for years. It never truly passed. He couldn't undo things that happened. Neither could she.

Ciri rubbed a hand over her face. "Are you okay? The healing… does it weaken you?"

"Your scratches weren't bad, so it's fine. A bit of dizziness that goes away quickly." He shifted in the chair in subtle unease. "Have you decided what you do next?"

"My… Geralt and Yennefer, they are bound to return soon. In a day or two hopefully. Until then, unless absolutely necessary, I'd prefer not to go back to Kaer Trolde."

"He's going to look for you, and so will Ermion. I would expect him to. You'd need some strong magical aura to 'mask' your own. This island has a temple, its power spreads far enough. But you might need to ask for her help."

"Freyja's temple?" Ciri vaguely remembered it from time spent on the islands as a child. "Not sure I have the favor of the Gods. I never much believed in them."

"You don't need to believe in them to make them real. But a bit of trust takes you a long way when you could use their help. I think it's that time for you now. You can at least try."

He stood up, took his cloak off the chair and his satchel, then looked at her expectantly.

"How do you feel?"

Ciri stood as well, adjusting her gloves. "The wounds have healed," she said in response to his question. "Thank you for that."

She headed out of the cold, dark house and into the night, waiting for him there.

Kain left after her and took course of the path that led them here - it snaked through the woods toward the temple.

She followed him because he seemed to know the path they needed to go. "How do you know Ermion?"

"Through Brokilon and other druids we know."

"Do you have any family?" She kept her voice relatively low, so to not attract attention of potential beasties lurking in the forest.

He thought about Brokilon and druids, and couldn't decide whether he could call either group a family. "I think Griffin is the closest to that at the moment."

"Your mother?" He had to have had one at some point after all. A father, too, but they were more known to run away at the sign of responsibility. "My mother died when I was still a baby. Drowned. I don't remember her at all."

"I have a mother. Haven't seen her since I was seven."

Ciri didn't pry further, assuming by his short answers he didn't wish to go into the details. "Did the dryads teach you magic? The healing?"

"They taught me a lot of things. Just like every place I've ever been had. They didn't teach me magic - can't teach it, it's either there or not. They taught me how to work with it. Dryads taught me how to live in the woods, stay hidden and quiet, archery and their ways with magic."

Ciri remained quiet a while as they walked, contemplating what her life might have been like had the water of Brokilon worked as it was supposed to. If she had become one of them. Would she have been safer? Happier?

She couldn't decide. There would be no Geralt. No Yennefer. And that thought brought a misery of its own kind.

"Geralt and Yennefer you mentioned are those from the ballads, aren't they?" he asked after a while. "Makes you the Lion Cub of Cintra. The true princess. Makes sense now: your grandmother, the Queen, and her daughter had the elven blood. Of course you'd inherit it."

Ciri couldn't withhold a chuckle. "You've heard Dandelion's ballads? Yes, those are the ones."

It was a little disconcerting to have someone know so much about you when it wasn't information you had freely offered yourself. She should have been used to it, though. It often felt like most knew more about her than she did. "I'm not a princess anymore. The woman who married the Emperor of Nilfgaard took that title from me. We had a likeness apparently and she was able to convince most she was Cirilla of Cintra. I was on the run, so..." I shrugged. "I don't mind. I was never meant to be royalty."

"You are by your blood - no one can take it away or fake it," he argued nonchalantly, and looked at her with a hint of amusement. "But as for what comes with it - yes, I'm sure sinking boats in icy waters and getting clawed by various creatures is far more exciting than any dress or ball can be."

She smirked. "Dresses are too stifling. Can't fight anything in a poofy gown. I never liked them. Not even as a child. After my grandmother died I was raised by men. Witchers, as I am sure you know. Though that too led to some awkward moments, I was much more comfortable with them, training, rolling in the mud, scraping my knees, than I ever was at court."

"I figured." She looked it, too, with her reckless attitude and that scar across her cheek. He couldn't imagine her looking any more at home at a royal court.

Silence stretched between them again as they made their way towards the temple. "Have you been here before?" she asked once it came into view.

"An hour ago."

He pulled one of the doors open, letting her in and slipping after her. The door slowly drew closed on its own once released.

He slipped the satchel and the cloak on the floor next to one of the braziers, watching the girl.

Elder Blood or not, he was curious whether she knew how to work her magic aside from the travels, whether she could feel her way with it.

Ciri stepped inside and eyed our surroundings, feeling a tad uncomfortable due to her purpose of being here. Like she was an imposter. There was a statue of a woman in the center of the room. Freyja, she assumed. There was an energy surrounding her Ciri quite liked. Warm and comforting.

Ciri felt Kain's gaze on her and turned to look at him over her shoulder. "I don't know how to do this," she admitted with a touch of shame. "Do you think she will ask something of me in return?"

What if she was simply linking herself to yet another being who would loom over her until she died?

"She's not a troll under the bridge to demand a fee for crossing it," he said with a faint amused smile briefly touching his mouth. "Asking for help means faith. A bit of trust in that help is what she would expect from you. She's the Great Mother. Mothers don't demand sacrifices, their love is unconditional. All you have to do is allow yourself to let it in." He gestured at the statue. "Touch her, see if you feel anything. Let yourself feel."

Ciri inhaled and gathered her courage, slowly reaching out to let her fingertips rest against the statue's chest, then her whole palm. She closed her eyes and focused, sensing…

There was that warmth again. A pleasant warmth that spread through her cold limbs. For a moment she thought she could smell lilacs and gooseberries, bringing a smile to her face.

A mother. The mother.

"Wise, loving Freyja:

I ask for protection,

Under your falcon wings,

And war-maiden's shield.

Please conceal me here in your holy temple,

to not be found by magic or wit."

A prayer that came alive in her mind. She did not know if those were the correct words, if they would please and appease the goddess. But she hoped. She believed.

Kain smiled without knowing it while watching how she did. Her power guided her when she let it. As it always did.

She might not know how to use her sight while awake, but his trained eye saw the dance of colored lights around her; they went in and over her, surrounded and added to her own. A little trust offered went a long way.

Ciri remained silent and still for a moment more after her prayer ceased, trying to imbue the magical presence she felt with gratitude and humility. As was fitting for a goddess, if she understood correctly.

Then, slowly, she let her hand fall away, turning to look at him as if asking for reassurance she had done alright.

He gave a nod to her questioning gaze and didn't ask about what she felt – he was certain she did feel it. It ought to help her feel a bit better.

"I won't be able to stay here," he warned. "Griffin and I don't separate for long on unknown grounds."

"I figured," she said with a slight smile, stepping away from the statue. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"Doesn't seem like anyone's coming before sunrise," he said. "With your ability to attract things that witchers hunt I doubt I can leave you alone for the night."

Her lips quirked in amusement at his insinuation that she was a trouble magnet. "So what do you suggest?"

"A cave instead of this," he smirked. "One stony floor instead of another and the safety of Griffin's side."

He slipped the satchel's strap onto his shoulder and hung his cloak over it.

Ciri considered it a moment and eventually nodded. "Alright. Have you found a cave already?"

"There was one where we landed. Seemed like there could be nekkers. It's close to the village, so the people will benefit from me cleaning it out."

He pulled the door open and held it for her to slip out.

"Who knew you were so charitable?" she teased and headed out, pulling her hood on again and allowing him to lead the way.

"It benefits me before them. I'm rather selfish. All charity comes as consequence of that."

Kain picked the direction and jogged into the woods. He kept his pace to not overwork the girl, but still it didn't take them long to find Griffin. He was cleaning his feathers and claws, clearly sated.

He croaked, surprised to see the girl, but he did remember her. He stretched his neck, sniffing and studying her, walked around her slowly, then let her be.

He found his bow and quiver in the shrubs where he hid them and put them on, slipping his satchel and cloak in the shrubs instead.

The cave's entrance was one minute away, but before heading there he acquainted himself with what grew around and picked some sage. He plucked a few long strings of grass and bound sage to an arrow. Then turned to Ciri.

"You can wait here, we'll do it quickly."

Ciri eyed him with an impish, but determined gaze. "I can but I won't."

She shed her cloak as well and drew her sword. Swallow glinted under the light of the moon.

"Lead the way."

Kain gave a quiet croak, getting Griffin's attention, and they approached the cave.

He lit the sage, blowing on it to make it smoke, then put the arrow on the bow and shot it into the cave.

Moments later the sounds from the darkness alerted them to the panic ensuing. And then they fled outside.

Screeching with enthusiasm of the cat-mouse hunt, Griffin began to dash and catch the screaming midgets. Kain drew his sword and got busy with those his claws and beak missed.

_Smoking them out – literally. Clever. _

Ciri stayed out of the griffin's way, allowing him to take the brunt of the attack because, apparently, it was an activity he greatly enjoyed. Kain stayed close to him, while Ciri remained further behind, slicing at the few stragglers that managed to avoid both griffin and man, ensuring none escaped and would return later to wreak vengeance.

It wasn't a large group, and the rush of the hunt ended rather quickly. Kain left the bow next to the cave entrance and began to drag the bodies into a pile away from it. Griffin mimicked like a dog would. Kain held out a hand, focusing, and the pile flashed in flames. He stood back, watching it burn. The bodies were reduced to ashes quicker than wooden logs would, and fire died out once the purpose was fulfilled.

He picked up the bow and led the way into the cave.

Sage had effectively taken care of nekker stench, but it took efforts to make out the layout. Griffin picked a spot, twirled around on it and lowered down like a cat, busying himself with cleaning once again. Kain deposited his bow and quiver in the vicinity and turned to head out for his cloak and satchel.

"We'll need some firewood."

Kain, his magic, and the griffin handled the corpses marvelously. Ciri stood back to watch for a moment before following them into the first part of the cave. It was sufficiently empty now, no lurkers lingering behind. Or so she assumed due to a severe lack of light.

She sheathed her sword.

"Bring me my cloak as well and I'll find some wood," she told Kain, trailing him outside again.

"Don't go far, princess."

"Not a princess!" she reminded him with a playful glower before wandering off amongst the tees to find fallen twigs and branches.

He picked up their possessions and brought them in, then went outside to gather some branches. They weren't too dry - it had been raining not too long ago. It didn't matter much for a fire conjured.

Keeping an eye on the girl's silhouette wandering among the trees, he collected a bunch of twigs, sticks and branches of his own.

He lit the pile inside the cave, and when Ciri returned, she no longer had to feel her way around.

She collected an armful and returned to the cave where Kain had already started a fire. She placed the heap of wood a short distance from the fire so they could add more when needed.

The griffin had already made himself comfortable, cleaning his feathers while shooting cautious looks her way every now and then. She supposed they were both still a bit wary of one another.

Ciri claimed her cloak and draped it onto the stone floor, settling down atop it and removing her weapon from her back.

"I'll be back soon," he said after surveying his hands, and headed outside. It was going to be cold, but he wasn't going to be long.

"Alright," she said, watching him go. She wasn't going to pry, assuming he had some private business to tend to. Possibly in the bushes.

She probed her split lip with her tongue and no longer tasted blood. That was an improvement.

Left to herself and her thoughts, her mind wandered to Avallac'h, unable to wonder how furious he was and what he would tell Geralt should they make it back before Ciri did.

Breathing as he had been taught a long time ago, Kain shrugged off his jacket and pulled off his shirt, then his trousers, and lay them down on the ground next to the sword.

He shivered, entering the spring - the water was freezing. It was hard to maintain the breathing as he hurried to wash and get out. He dove, scrubbing his scalp in case some nekker blood got there and on his face, then came out to the shore. He snatched the shirt from the pile, returned and washed and rinsed it, then hurried out wringing it as he went.

He pulled on his pants and jacket, shivering, then pulled on his boots and set back to the cave, the Cat Medallion hidden in the jacket's pocket.

It was much warmer inside now. He lay the wet shirt on a rock to dry through the night and settled half-lying against the griffin's hinder legs, enjoying the warmth.

For some reason Ciri could not take her eyes off his semi-bare torso when Kain re-entered the cave. Not until he settled down facing her.

She'd seen men's torsos before. The witchers sometimes even trained without their shirts. But they'd never had the effect on her Kain suddenly did.

She cleared her throat, attempting to do the same with her mind. "Did you fall in?"

He frowned, "No…"

"Right. You're just wet, is all," she murmured. Of course he already knew that.

She forced her gaze off of him and settled it on the burning fire instead.

He couldn't help a quick sneer, amused, and raised an eyebrow, "You don't bathe in water?"

"Not in ice water, usually." She paused. "I suppose that speaks of my privilege. Or my willingness to be covered in blood rather than being cold."

"I live in the woods, and water's always cold. I don't like being covered in blood. I'll feel and smell it all night."

"I suppose I am just used it; I'm always covered in some bodily fluid or another." It had been a rough decade.

The way she phrased it cut his hearing in a deeply unpleasant way, and he made an effort to shake the sensation before some images crept into his mind. He didn't want to pry and leaned his head back against the griffin's hip, closing his eyes. It was unusual to be in someone else's company, but not uncomfortable, either.

She lay down on her side atop her cloak, close to the fire but not so near she'd accidentally roll into the flames should she get some sleep.

Ciri stared into the fire for a long time, until her eyes slid shut of their own accord and sleep claimed her.

For a while there was nothing but rest and as if she was aware of it, they were hours she reveled.

But like always He showed up in the end. He always did.

* * *

"Where are you, me elaine luned?"

She bristles. It is easier to do so when he does not touch her. Her head was cleared then. "I am not your girl," she hisses in the Elder Speech.

She can see the outline of him in the darkness and when he steps into view Ciri takes an automatic step back. Or tries to, anyhow. Her legs will not yield.

Eredin's face – beautiful and terrifying – cracks in a crooked smile. "You've grown since we last saw one another, Zireael." His green eyes rake over her body with hunger. "Filled out. No longer a child, but a woman."

He closes the distance between them suddenly and she's in his arms, a helpless puppet filled with rage and shame, fear and arousal. Why does she keep letting him do this to her? Why does she keep allowing him to enter her mind? To torment her? And why, most shamefully of all, does her body respond to his touch with such desire she feels as though she might combust? What is wrong with her?

"Your power has grown as well," he continues, his warm breath on her ear, hands roaming. "So strong now, little Swallow. And yet… The Fox refuses you your birthright. You were meant to travel time and space. To be free. They keep you caged, en'ca minne. I would never do such a thing. With me, you would be yourself. Entirely. Don't you want to be free?"

Even within her vision her eyes close and she leans into Eredin's body. "Yes," she whispers. She wants that more than anything.

"Come to me, Zireael. I am just one tiny leap away. Come."


	8. Chapter 8

The unfamiliar sounds yanked Kain from his sleep.

Whimpers.

He was on his feet before he knew it, the griffin was staring at the girl, hissed quietly.

In the amber light of weakening fire the girl's face contorted, she groaned and writhed as if someone's hands were on her.

"Yes," she whispered, but her face didn't quite say the same.

The colors around her shifted, new energy spurted in. New, more powerful, it was coming from inside her like a shining seeping from the center of a crystal.

The lights grew brighter and shimmered quicker around her. Griffin jumped up, croaking in alarm.

Kain rushed to her and, after a momentary hesitation, took her by the shoulder to shake her awake.

The intense electric jolt went through his nerves, blinding with its force. A mixture of her fears, lust, shame and guilt whooshed into him, stinging like enraged bees. Gasping, he staggered back, shaking his head to clear it.

Ciri jolted awake, gasping for breath and practically threw herself off her makeshift bed. As always, it took her a few seconds to realize Eredin was gone and that she was once again back to her own reality.

Kain was awake as well, looking almost as though he was in pain. Something that immediately captured her attention and made her worry. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Pressing his back into the stony wall, he tried to get his breathing and pulse in order. The residue of what she passed to him didn't die easy.

"No... I'm... you had a nightmare. You groaned... and almost did something with your magic." He rubbed his face and detached from the wall, feeling exhausted and wishing for another bath. "You were not in control."

_'...almost did something with your magic..._' She remembered. She'd been close to traveling, to jumping from this cave to wherever Eredin currently was. She'd come so close. Too close.

Ciri hid her face in her hands for a few moments, trying to shake the eerie sensation that the dark elf was still here. "Not a nightmare," she whispered, watching him tiredly. "What did you see?" It was clear something had happened to him.

Kain took a few long breaths and went back to the griffin that calmed and twirled around to lie back down.

"I... don't know... if I saw anything."

He felt plenty, and the nerves within him were still trembling.

That didn't make her feel any better.

She felt violated. Not by Kain, but the older elf. And a new concern arose the more she thought of it: would Eredin be able to sense Kain through her mind? Had he already? If so, she'd condemned him to a life where he was not just hunted by humans, but the Aen Elle as well.

The King of the Riders had used people against her before. Yennefer. Geralt. Used them as bait to draw her out. What's to say he wouldn't do the same to Kain should he ever get his claws in him.

She'd been so selfish. And Avallac'h had been right. She should be locked up.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, scrambling to her feet to grab her cloak and sword. "I need to go."

"You can't," he said calmly. "Unless you want the Rider to find you. I didn't get the impression you did. So what changed?"

"You," she said honestly, pausing her task of dressing to meet his gaze. "I told you – it's not a nightmare. He gets in my head. It's been six years and…" Ciri fell silent, closing her eyes because she felt the sting of oncoming tears, stubbornly forcing them to recede before she could face him again. "I don't know how to stop it. How to keep him out. And I don't know how much he is able to perceive. If he knows who is at my side.

"He already knows about Geralt and Yennefer and our friends. And so they are targets as well. I don't want… I don't want him to hurt you."

Kain stood regarding her for a moment. He knew where she was coming from, and appreciated the sentiment, but couldn't let her go back to being alone.

"It's not as easy to hurt me as you think," she said. "And you don't deserve to carry the whole weight on your own.

"You need to ask Freyja for protection again - that dream or whatever won't return. It only did because you were upset about the village. It's natural."

"This is not her temple," she pointed out, looking around as if ensuring herself she was right about that. "Will she even hear my prayers here?"

Kain stared at her a moment, then chuckled despite himself. "The whole land is under her protection. The temple is just a symbol built by men. It's not the sole place she dwells. She hears you wherever you are - any time, any world."

Ciri had never paid much heed or thought to any God before. Not even during her lowest moments in life. And so she found herself lacking in information on even the simplest things, it seemed. Like how one worshipped.

She exhaled in defeat and threw her cloak down again, further from the fire and against the cave wall this time. She did not want to fall asleep. Not at once. She couldn't help but fear what would happen if she did.

She settled down with her back against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to find that same connection with the goddess that she had felt before. It seemed to take longer this time. Perhaps because she did not have a physical item to focus on.

But she eventually said her prayer, an embellished and adjusted form of the words that had come to her earlier. When she finished, she rested her arms on her knees and watched him. It calmed her somehow. "I don't want him," she said after a while, because no matter what Kain said, she knew he'd absorbed something of what had occurred within her mind at that time. "Eredin. I don't want him. I don't know why that changes when I sleep."

The repulsive mix of shame and lust stirred briefly in his memory. He cringed.

"You're scared and desperate. It changes things you feel."

"Right." She leaned her head back and briefly thought of Yennefer. Perhaps she could make her something? An amulet or a potion… something to help Ciri ensure her mind would be her own. With no unwanted visitors.

She just hoped to find a way to ask Yennefer without having to explain in detail why. Ciri wasn't sure she could live with the humiliation.

"You have to conquer your fear first," he said, leaning back against the griffin's side. "You're safe here, and I'll wake you if anything happens. Just don't wait for it to happen again because you're drawing it to you. Think of things you want rather than unwanted. Mind wanders like a wild horse, but it can be trained."

"What I want," Ciri mused, eyeing the roof of the cave. "I want to jump again. From world to world, from mountaintop to mountaintop. There is such beauty out there, such strange sights. The last world I was in, I stayed there for six months. The people there had metal in their skin, in their head. They were human but also… machines. And instead of horses there were ships with wings that flew in the sky."

She smiled a little at the memory. "Avallac'h hated it. It was funny."

Kain gave a soft hem of wonder. "I dreamt of something like that a few times. Didn't try to remember any of it, though, for when I woke, it made little to no sense."

"Recently?" she asked, for it was a strange thing to dream. Unless he had an amazing imagination.

"No. Several times since childhood."

Ciri regarded him in silence for a long moment, thinking on that. "When all this is over I can take you somewhere. If you want," she added as an afterthought. "That's a nice thing to think about. Something I want."

Kain thought about it and clucked his tongue. "In that particular moment, jumping between worlds is something you are trying to avoid. I would pick something of this world that you want. Some images that fill you with love and hope rather than fear. Something you know and love." He reflected on it a moment and added, "Fear is a child of the unknown. You can't fear something you know. It's always about things you don't know. You fear that Eredin because you don't know what happens when he gets you. You fear death because you don't know what it feels like when you're dead. You fear to lose your loved ones because you know there will be pain of loss and you don't know how grand it would be and you fear it would consume you and don't know what it would mean."

"Mm," she hummed in agreement, trying to find her way to something she loved. Someone. Geralt and Yennefer.

She thought of the three of them together when she was younger, some sort of memory she couldn't tell whether was real or fabricated.

Them sitting together, Geralt with an arm around Yennefer's shoulders, while Ciri practiced with her tiny sword, showing them the routine she had learned from Lambert that day.

That was love. That was safety.

Her eyes slid shut again, her fingers curling in the fur of her cloak, and she drifted off.

Kain fed more wood to the fire, then shifted back to Griffin and watched the girl for a while until he was sure she was asleep. He let his eyes close as he relaxed a tad. The griffin was sleeping peacefully, as calm as animals could be where there was no danger.

Kain tried to trust it. And soon enough, he slept.

* * *

For a time while Yennefer and Keira strategized—at least until the Witchers joined them later toward the afternoon—and settled in for the night, Keira appeared to have steered clear of the prying into Yennefer's relationship with Geralt. Only Lambert appeared to want to push the subject again later in the evening after helping himself to their untouched store of mead and the remainders of the cured meat. Eskel, on the other hand, seemed only to be interested in the drinking and fixing a patch to his shirt from a fight, while Vesemir attempted to warm himself with the fire and to recover from the long journey they'd had. Two out of five people groaned.

"Let's end it there, Lambert," Vesemir reproached.

"For what reason?" Lambert retorted.

"Yennefer is our guest and we've even bigger problems to deal with," Eskel lamented without looking up, as if the mere statement should have been enough to slow Lambert from his tangent.

It wasn't.

Apparently, he wasn't happy with the initiative Yennefer had taken making elixirs from their ingredients in the laboratory. He went on about how the Lodge and its associates only wanted their witcher secrets (how they'd had these very same fears in the past with an unnamed other and that they'd finally given them an opportunity to do just that); how Yennefer had probably already helped herself to everything she needed; and that, of all the able-bodied sorceresses they'd ever dealt with, Yennefer was the most conniving and least likely to be trusted.

Yennefer didn't suppose he'd have gone that far had he been sober, but somewhere along the way, he'd lost it, driven by irritation from his travels and other frustrations.

If she were to analyze, she'd say it was fear.

But how was she to know? Why should she care?

"If I wanted your stupid Witcher secrets, I'd already have helped myself to them years ago." Yennefer arched an eyebrow, daring him to content with that thought, to dismiss the fact that despite his obvious dislike for who she was, the opportunity had been there and easily amended.

Lambert scoffed and took a long sip of his beer.

"Why didn't you?" he asked, setting the mug down.

"Why didn't I what?"

"Why didn't you help yourself to the formulas?"

Now she had no idea why he thought she would want to. She'd never been interested in them beyond the fact that their species was unique and that Geralt happened to be part of them.

"Because of Geralt?" He gave a soft derisive laugh. "Doubtful."

Vesemir stabbed Lambert a scolding look while Eskel picked up something from his plate and tossed it at his head. Lambert made a show of deflecting the offending object.

"You know, I always wondered myself," Keira said, chipping in where Lambert had left off.

Everyone appeared to look at her – Yennefer included.

"We've all heard the ballads that reduce the mortals to tears and intrigue the rest of us, but I've never actually seen it with my own two eyes."

Eskel rose from his position at the table and announced that he was going in search of more mead although he already had a full tankard. Lambert watched him leave, disgusted by his assumed cowardice, nodding his agreement with the blonde sorceress as if she'd said something profound.

"And what is that?" Yennefer asked, unable to keep the irritable edge from her tone. Usually, when this kind of thing was came up in conversation, Geralt was there and shut them down. At least in his presence. This time, however, there was no such voice of reason and she hardly had the patience.

"How someone like Geralt—who takes a beating everyday—could be taken with someone whose heart is made of ice—who as quoted 'By ire ever growing, hardening into stone—"

''—amidst the cold to hold you in a heated embrace," Lambert concluded, lowering his voice as if to mimic that of whomever he'd heard the performance from.

They shared a joint look of satisfaction, complacency Yennefer wanted to wipe off their faces, and each dove into their drinks, clinking glasses, solidifying their sudden agreeability.

They'd been fighting since they came together.

Until _now_, that was.

And for what? To entertain themselves at her expense?

Yennefer stood, intending to leave them to it, to let them enjoy their insufferable childishness, refusing to let them bait her as she was sure they would have liked and had tried to do in the past.

"You don't see it, do you?" Keira asked, dragging her mug away from her lips, setting it down on the table in front of her. "Or is it that you don't care?"

"I think you need to spend more time drinking and comparing girth size with Lambert, and less time trying to concern yourself with my relationship with Geralt."

Lambert muttered and downed his mead.

"I don't see what the big problem is," Keira began. "You two are constantly at each other's throats. Making up, breaking up. No one is even questioning the fact that it has to do with sex. That there must be something you do that has kept him affixed to you—"

The Djinn and our talk on the boat raced in Yennefer's mind, along with Geralt's mask of apology, sheer contriteness and apprehension as she explained what she felt.

"Now there's something-" Lambert interjected, raising his empty mug, expecting Eskel to be at his side ready to receive the agreement and ply him with a refill. Only, he'd been met by a rush of golden light that swallowed him whole and spat him out in the lake somewhere north of the keep.

Keira hardly had time to react, to realize that she'd pressed too far, or even notice that her agreeable and temporary companion had gone missing before she, too, had gone flying, springing up out of her chair as if pulled by strings and forced out the side window in the hall already without a barrier to the ground below.

"Yennefer!" Vesemir yelled in alarm, no longer unresponsive to the situation, his hands balled into fists, his features contorted with disapproval. "Get a hold of yourself!"

Yennefer turned on him with a sneer, maddened that he could step in when it suited him as if she'd be brought to heel.

"They're drunk!"

As if somehow those words should be their excuse enough – and they were – a second ago, one she could have written off easily had they not touched on the unconscious issue she already had.

He shook his head stiffly, broke away from where Yennefer was standing and headed for the window, expelling a sound of shock at what he'd seen before breaking away to run outside.

Yennefer walked over to reclaim his place at the window, peering down at Keira strewn on the ground, her pristine blonde hair fanned out around her head like a wild halo, a cut above her right eye, her left hand twisted beneath her, her ankle bent in a way that suggested it might actually be broken.

Served her right.

Yennefer blinked away the fog of anger when Eskel appeared beside them, attempting to lift the woman off the ground, to get her into their arms so that they could carry her inside and tend to her wounds.

Yennefer returned to the table, collected what remained of her meat and Keira's abandoned drink and headed upstairs to get some sleep.

* * *

Eredin did not return. Nor was Ciri plagued by any other dreams that night.

She woke when the sun had started to climb over the hills and its light penetrated the cave. Kain was still asleep by the looks of it but she doubted he would be for long. The griffin cracked an eye open as she got up, following her movements around the room.

The fire had died out. She grabbed her cloak and put it on, heading outside to find some more firewood. Even with the sun on the sky, it was still cold.

Her movements around the cave pulled Kain from his sleep, but he took his time until her footfalls shuffled outside.

He stretched and sat up, so did Griffin. The beast let out a quiet croak, stretched like a cat and trotted for the exit. Kain took the jacket off, put the now dry shirt on and clasped the medallion back around his neck, hiding it beneath the shirt and jacket. He buckled all the straps and combed the bangs away from his eyes with his fingers.

It was an early morning outside, a few hours after sunrise. It was chilly but luckily clear. A rain would not be welcome.

Ciri gathered another armful of broken branches and headed back for the cave, stopping to greet Kain at the entrance. "Morning. Where did you go wash last night? Which direction?" she asked, eyeing her surroundings.

There's a stream in that direction," he pointed. "Very close. Make sure there's nothing lurking around."

"Oh, but I always prefer to wash in the presence of drowners and hags," she teased, smiling as he headed inside to deposit the wood.

"It's a disturbing preference, but I don't judge," he said, heading away toward the shrubs.

Ciri left moments after, walking in the direction Kain had pointed out. He was right; it didn't take long until she reached the stream at all.

She crouched down and washed her hands, gathering some to drink before splashing her face as well. It was freezing cold. Her fingers were already numb.

She drank some more before she headed back, feeling a little more sprightly.

Kain slipped his sword on and waited for her outside the cave, strolling as he surveyed the plants and flowers with interest. It was useful to know what grew here in case he needed to use the herbs. Finding sage last night was luck.

"It's best to go to the tavern for breakfast," he said when she came back. "Skinning and frying rabbits takes more time."

"Alright." Ciri pulled on her gloves and straightened her cloak. "Ermion said you weren't appreciative of company. Is this awful for you? Spending time with me?" It was not an accusatory question. A simple curiosity.

"It's not. I'm just out of habit for it, is all. I've done more talking with you in the past two days than in the last two years."

Ciri nodded, starting on their trek towards the tavern. "How long has it been since you left the dryads?"

"About five years in all."

"And you've been alone for all that time since?"

Kain cast an amused glance at her. "You think it's bad – being alone?"

"Not if that is what you prefer," she shrugged. "I'd take solitude over the wrong kind of people any day."

"It's liberating to be on your own," he admitted. "It's the most freedom I've ever felt."

"I can imagine. I suppose the dryads had their fair share of rules as well?"

"Any group does, they weren't an exception."

"What was it like living with them?" she asked, looking up at him as they walked.

Kain hesitated, unsure of what to say. "Like at constant war with the rest of the world. Patrols, hunting parties…

"There were happier breaks for magical festivities and rituals and celebrations, but more of a rare occasion. There was rarely any peace."

"Sounds like the Aen Elle," she said after a moment's contemplation. "Do you miss being there?"

Kain pondered. "Being there… not really. I wasn't alone. But I had to be killing for it. I was fighting someone else's war and getting a lot of blood on my hands, for which I was praised. I don't miss that being gone."

"Understandable." Ciri eyed the sun that had come up to peak out behind the trees again, enjoying the warmth on her skin. "Anyone there you got close to?"

Kain sighed, turning away to hide the scowl. "Dryads are hard to get close to if you're a male outsider."

"Not trusting of the male species?"

"It's mostly females, unless the guests they let under their protection, non-humans. They harbor the non-human fugitives who fight their war for and with them. They steal little human girls and turn them into dryads with Waters of Oblivion."

"Ah, yes, I remember that part. And before the dryads? Where were you then?"

"It's all ancient history now," he murmured as they walked into the village. People raised their heads to look at them as they passed, but almost no one was too interested. The first working morning after the festivities was not an easy one, and even two fair-haired people didn't hold their attention for too long.

The innkeeper remembered them. "What's it gon' be? Meat or fresh fish? Got 'em fresh from early morn."

"Meat for me, thank you," Kain put the coins on the counter and headed for the tables. Only one had a sailor finishing his meal. The rest were empty – everybody was busy.

"Same for me, please," Ciri said, preparing to follow Kain to the table.

"Did ye find yer man, lass?"

She turned to the innkeeper, eyebrows raised. "Pardon?"

"Yer man. Ye asked for directions to his village last night."

"Oh," she felt disappointment and sorrow drench her like cold water. "Yes."

The innkeeper regarded her with a knowing look. "Found himself another lass while ye were away, huh? It happens."

She didn't answer that, moving to catch up with Kain instead.

Kain settled at the table away from the sailor, feeling uncomfortable and misplaced. The unbidden memories of Brokilon attempting to invade his mind. It had been so long since he thought of it.

And of _her_.

Ciri settled opposite him and leaned back in her chair.

They were both quiet for a stretch of time, seemingly a lot on their minds.

She broke the silence after their breakfast had been served. "You know a fair deal about magical animals, right?"

"I suppose I do. Don't you? Being a witcher's ward?"

"I know monsters more than animals, but what I mean is…" She reached for her wrist and removed the silver bracelet there, cautiously handing it over to him. "Does this make you feel anything? Sense anything?"

Kan took the bracelet and twirled it in his hands. A silver chain with a green stone that looked like a dark tourmaline. There wasn't anything immediately vibrant in it; however, after a bit of focusing he sensed the energy in the stone.

"There is magic in it. The crystal holds it – crystals keep information, which is why they get enchanted. What is that supposed to do?"

"It used to summon a horse. My horse, Kelpie. She was my sole companion for a long time, much like you and your griffin. I lost her when I had to flee The Wild Hunt. The bracelet broke shortly after." Ciri hesitated, watching the piece of jewelry with a hopeful look. "Avallac'h has tried to fix it, but he says the connection might be broken. Or that Kelpie might be dead." She swallowed. "Can you… feel if any of that is true?"

It was another surprise – those were piling up with that girl. Summoning a horse with a bracelet was strange even for what he had seen in life.

He concentrated on the bracelet once again, tuning out the tavern's smells and sounds, but it wasn't easy. He didn't feel comfortable enough to dig deeper.

"I feel something, but to find out more, I need a quieter place with fresh air. We'll have our meal and then I'll see what I can do." He waited for the innkeeper to leave the meal, and handed the bracelet back to her. "It doesn't feel… dead. That much I can tell."

Ciri nodded eagerly, hope rekindled at his statement. She took the bracelet back and fixed it around her wrist, then got to eating, quicker than she ever had. Had this been Kaer Morhen she would have been chided by several witchers. "Thank you," she said in between greedy bites. "Thank you."

Kain cast a flabbergasted gander at her. "Nothing to thank me for yet."

He found his hunger as he started to eat, but even that didn't make him sweep the meal off the plate with the speed the girl was making. She had to wait for him.

"You are trying to help. That earns you my gratitude," she said simply, offering him an uncharacteristic wink. One she immediately regretted.

Kain finished his water and set the mug aside. "You've been here before, haven't you? Any magical towers around you're dying to see?"

"Not that I know of," she said with a slight laugh. "To my knowledge, there are three such towers. Only one on Skellige. I entered portals in the other two towers once upon a time. Both to flee. Didn't really go well."

"If so, there should be another place to see."

Kain headed for the door, giving a nod to the innkeeper as he passed.

"Come again," the innkeeper said as he walked out.

"No other dreams last night? You seemed to have slept better the second time."

"The portals are unstable. Dangerous. If I had any dreams I don't remember them. It was nice. New."

"You have any place to be?" Kain asked, stalling before they picked the gates.

Ciri lifted her arm to show him the bracelet again, giving him a questioning look.

His responding look was a reprimanding one. "I remember. Any place with no people will be good."

They were almost through the gate when someone called to them from behind.

"Eh, lads?" An elderly woman was approaching. She spared him an interest look, then turned her eyes to Ciri, and smiled. "I saw ye like the horses. We hold a race 'ere in celebration of Mother Freyja. If ye want to take part, ye'll honor the Great Mother with yer victory."

Ciri blinked in surprise, gaze drifting from the elderly lady to Kain. "Oh, uh…" Ciri supposed she should if it was in Freyja's honour. To thank her. "Sure. Sign me up," she told her with a small smile. "You'll have to lend me a horse."

"Ye can talk to folk before the race starts," the woman said. "Some will be willin to lend a horse for a few coins. Good day to ye, youngens, may loving Freyja protect ye."

She started away, and they continued on the path. They returned to the cave and found Griffin next to the entrance cleaning feathers. Seemed he'd had his meal.

Kain took her bracelet once again and sat down on the grass to concentrate. He toyed with it lazily, watching the light play in the depths of the green stone. It flickered and flashed and lured, and the energy felt as if it was warming his fingers.

There was a recurring image sweeping through his mind: a black horse rearing up, its eye widening, the pupil narrowing and dilating as if it hears something it knows.

"The connection is still there," he said, raising his eyes to the girl. He stood up and held the trinket out to her. "But after the thing broke, it's a bit… damaged. I could try to restore it, but… I've never done that before, and I'll need a place with magic. The Freyja temple could do, but it needs to be empty, which leaves the night time."

Ciri crouched down beside him, arms resting on her knees as she watched him work with the bracelet, eyes wide and eager. "But you think she is alive? Unhurt?"

Her eyes were pleading. Kain thought it would be the same for him with Griffin. "I don't feel she's dead."

That was the best news she'd heard in quite a while. Ciri couldn't help an ecstatic smile as she wrapped her arms around him in a celebratory embrace, her face briefly resting against the crook of his throat. "Thank you," she whispered just before she withdrew again, reclaiming the bracelet to fasten it around her wrist.

He froze in her impulsive embrace, utterly out of touch with that simple human custom. Her breath hot on his neck sent a jolt of thrill through his nerves, and then she pulled away.

The memory of the night before rose its ugly face, but he did his best to turn away from it.

Once the bracelet was fixed in place, Ciri turned to look at him again, in a greater mood than she had been all week. "So, will you honor us lowly humans with your participation in the race?" Her tone teasing and impish.

"Races draw attention and I don't do that," he spread his arms briefly as if saying she already knew that. "And hardly horses themselves are eager to race. Humans make them and then call themselves winners after reaching the finish line on someone else's legs."

Her eyebrows shot skywards. "Fair point. Of course, if they were to race by foot most of them would not make it halfway up the hill." She smirked a little, but it faded soon. "Would you, um… Do you have plans for today? Important things you must do? Or… would you come with me to the graveyard?"

He frowned, pondering. Graveyards weren't the best place to step on, but if she needed it, he might as well see where it was. It must be about that village and the man who saved her.

"All right. You know where it is? Lead the way."

"I've a fair idea," she said, leading the way back towards the village of Lofoten. It would take them some time to get there on foot, but she needed this. She wanted to find Skjall's grave, honor him and his sacrifice in whatever way she could.

She was glad of Kain's company. The more time they spent together, the less she understood Ermion's warnings of staying away from him. He had made him sound dangerous and unkind; someone who could not be trusted. That was not her impression in the least.

Gesturing for Griffin to stay, Kain followed the girl, catching up with her, but stayed a bit behind.

He thought of Brokilon; it was like surrendering to the idea that refused to leave. He had to stuff it back into the box he kept it in for all these years. Where it belonged with all the past.

It didn't go amiss that instead of walking beside her, he always stayed a few paces behind. "Guarding me, archer?" she asked over her shoulder. "Or have you a lot on your mind?"

"I'm not used to company," he reminded. "Griffin doesn't need me to talk to him."

"No, I suppose he would not require your words."

They used the same road as last night. Though this time there were no drowners in the way.

"How was it with your mare?" he asked. "You talked to her?"

"I did. Quite a lot actually," she admitted. "I felt alone at the time. Not the good kind. And she was my only friend. The only one I could truly trust."

He nodded pensively. It was a familiar sentiment. "She's probably searching for you, too, then."

"I hope so. She would never let herself be caught by any other." Ciri was silent a while, the only sound that of their footsteps on gravel. "I miss her."

He didn't respond; there was nothing to say to that. He feared to think of what it would be had he been in her shoes.

The village loomed ahead. It felt cold and empty even from the distance.

There were painfully few people, and all of them women. They sat in a wide circle, and as they approached, it became clear they were praying. The woman standing in the head of the circle noticed them and frowned. Kain sensed both confusion and fear about her.

"Forgive us for disturbing you," he said, addressing all of seven them while they scrutinized the two. "We came to pay respects to the fallen." He cast a quick glance at Ciri, in case she wanted to ask where the cemetery was.

The woman who looked like a priestess folded her arms as if feeling a chill. Her eyes studied Ciri sharply. "Ye that ashen-haired lass, ain't ye? A witcher and that magician filth were lookin for ye if ye's her."

Ciri was pleasantly surprised by Kain taking the initiative to approach the group of women. He was getting better in the company of others all the time.

The pleasantness evaporated from her face when the priestess spoke, eyes narrowing dangerously. Ciri did not like how she spoke of Yennefer.

Ciri tried to push the annoyance from her voice because people rarely wanted to give information to someone who was angry and scowling. "When was this?" Had they returned from Novigrad to find her?

"A few weeks past," she said. It was clear her encounter with them had not been a pleasant one.

"Right," Ciri said simply, not needing any more information on that topic. "I am looking for the grave of a man named Skjall. He used to live in this village. Is he up at the cemetery?"

One of the women spat at her feet, but for some reason Ciri had the feeling her derision wasn't entirely directed at her.

"The craven," the priestess sneered. "We do not speak his name, for he no longer has one."

"What does that mean?"

"When the Wild Hunt came, the craven ran while his people died. He lived as a coward, he died as a coward. There is no room for him in our cemetery."

"That is not what happened," Ciri argued, feeling her temper and indignation rise. "He led them away from the village. You would not be alive if not for him!"

The Priestess smiled as though she knew truths Ciri did not. "That is not what we saw."

"Where is he?" Ciri's voice trembled, her fists were clenched at her sides.

"He met his end in the Goddess' Garden. After your Witcher dredged him up from the caves, we threw him in the crags to rot with the fallen warriors of The Hunt."

Kain cringed at the thought of all those bodies rotting in the open. Why wouldn't these people burn their dead?

"What happened to him in the Garden?" he asked.

"Morgvark," the woman who looked the oldest answered simply. "He wanted to cleanse his name by killing Morgvark."

"The monster who lived in the Garden, the filth punished by gods' wrath," the priestess explained. "We never saw 'em since. The witcher said the monster killed 'im, for the witcher rid us of Morgvark in the end."

"He had done nothing wrong!" Ciri hissed in the priestess' direction, glaring at them all. "Where are the crags?"

The priestess looked mildly hesitant but eventually pointed out the direction. Ciri set off immediately, ignoring her calls.

"He does not deserve your sorrow! He is a traitor!"

It wasn't far. A three minute walk away from the village she found The Crags – a set of rugged cliffs leading down into a hollow in the earth. The wind carried the stench of decaying flesh and though it should have disgusted her, it simply made her more furious.

Skjall had not deserved this fate. Nor had he deserved this resting place. She needed to remedy it in any way she could.

"She should not disturbed the cursed," the priestess told Kain, looking after Ciri who stomped away. "Tis not good for the livin."

"What if it's not what you saw?" he asked. "What if he wasn't cursed to begin with?"

She seized him with a distrustful look. "Gods woulda showed us. He was no warrior, and he ran. He did not want to die and he ran."

"Cowards don't go after monsters to prove anything," Kain reasoned. "Their love for life surpasses everything, especially their honor and dignity. He would have just left your village to someplace no one knows about him. Instead he went for the beast."

"Tis what Witcher said," the oldest woman murmured.

"It's reasonable to doubt whether he's really a coward."

"Who to prove otherwise?" the priestess asked.

"Where is the Garden you spoke of?"

"On the end if the path north from 'ere, close to the Mother's temple," the priestess pointed behind her where the road went.

He nodded and hurried after Ciri.

He found her standing at the edge of a hole reeking of rotting flesh and something else even fouler, darker. Approaching, he saw the black armored bodies and some creatures resembling a mix of ghoul and dog with spikes sticking from their backs.

The Wild Hunt abominations.

Ciri's face was a mask of a tranced loss and sorrow.

"Best to burn them. The riders and their dogs."

"Yes," Ciri said, unable to take her eyes off the heap of corpses, attempting to glean Skjall's face amongst them all. "After I get him out. I want to put him in the ground."

Kain observed the heap of bodies. It was all armor and spikes.

He walked around the edge of the hole, and on the other side there was someone wearing fabric clothes - all dirty and discolored but not black metal.

"Is that him?"

She followed Kain, squinting down at the figure he'd pointed out. "Maybe. Yes… I think so," she said, moving down the slope toward the heap, careful not to slip on the loose rocks and gravel on her way there. "Yes, it's him!"

He was hard to recognize; face all bloated and discolored, but it was him. His clothes, his likeness.

She took hold of one of the riders and with great effort began to haul him off Skjall's legs, to make it easier to get him out of this horrible place.

"Step away," Kain said, holding his hands together as if there was an invisible ball between them. He waited for the energy to get denser, then threw his hands forth; the black knight's body Ciri was struggling to move jerked upwards and fell a few feet away like a kicked doll.

He drew a deeper breath, focusing his power, then held a hand out, staring at the needed corpse. He slowly lifted his hand, and the corpse 'sat up' and began to rise as if pulled by strings.

Ciri drew back as soon as he said, releasing her hold on the dead elf. Kain moved him with what seemed like effortless power, but that increased once he moved onto Skjall's body. She watched, mesmerized, as his corpse jerked and swayed up the hill, only climbing out herself once Kain had finished.

Kain deposited it on the edge of the pit and bent over, hands propped above his knees, waiting out the slight nausea.

"Yennefer would like you," she murmured, more to herself than him and paused beside him as doubled over. She didn't touch him. Wasn't sure that'd be wise or welcome at this moment. "Are you well?"

Kain barely squelched the sickness, trying to breathe in shallow intakes, and slowly straightened up. He wasn't sure if it was simply the stench that made him sick. An unsettling feeling crept around his heart.

"I'll be all right," he said, walking past her and to the body.

The man had been dead for many days, but still preserved better than he should have been. The pit was breathing cold along with stench, and that explained it.

Ciri wasn't sure if it was his magic making him feel sick, the stench of the dead, or the sight of them. And she did not think now was the right time to ask.

She moved closer to examine Skjall. His round, friendly face had lost everything that had made her trust him. Once more she felt something akin to heartache; pain and guilt for the people who had died on her behalf. "Let us take him away from here. Someplace… Someplace the earth is still soft enough to be moved. Where he can find peace."

"Can't drag him - the body will come apart," Kain warned, scrutinizing him and frowning deeper. "Something's not right…"

Ciri frowned, more at the second part than the first. "What do you mean?"

She crouched down beside the body, trying to see what Kain was seeing.

There was something strange going on around the body: as if a black smoke came out of it in thin coils.

"I don't know, I haven't seen it before. It's like he's truly cursed, but not the way they said. The body is soaked with something... nasty. It's unsafe for the living to touch it."

Ciri stared; first at Kain, then Skjall. "Something dark?" she asked, inhaling sharply. "Do you think it is possible The Wild Hunt cursed him? They are mages, after all.

"Could it be a trap? Skjall and I were fighting together, running together. They would have made the connection, they always do."

Kan shook his head subtly, still staring down at the body. "I don't know. I need to find the place where it happened to see. I can't read it off him - it's like letting a viper bite you when you have no antidote."

Ciri hesitated. "We can't just leave him here. What do we do?"

Kain glanced around, undecided. "No animal will touch him, although necrophages could. And whatever it is, I don't think it can be fixed on the body itself. We have to dig a grave and burn him in it." He gave her a firm look. "I know no other way. Unless…" His expression turned pensive as he looked at the body again.

Ciri watched in silence for as long as she could stand it. "Unless...?"

"A blessed water of some kind. That could change something." He shrugged and looked over at the hills in the north. "Maybe from that Garden where it happened. The Garden is sacred, from what I gathered."

Ciri hesitated but a moment. "Then let us go there. Or I will." She met his gaze. "I appreciate you doing this. More than I can put into words but...if you are tired, if the magic is too much, I do understand."

"I've never done anything that'd be too much.

"You said he led you out of the village. Do you remember where you parted? I want to see that place. It still remembers."

Ciri straightened and examined their surroundings. "If we go back to the village, I will find it from there. We were on horseback when we fled, but we should manage the walk just fine."

"Show me the place." He gestured in invitation to go.

Reluctantly leaving Skjall behind, they traipsed back to the village. From there she led him onto the road she had taken that day, along the coast. Their destination was a nature-made archway of rock, one Ciri had slipped through while Skjall had continued further up the road. "This is where we parted," she told Kain, pointing in the direction Skjall had ridden. "I went down to the water where Avallac'h was waiting, while Skjall and the horses distracted the Wild Hunt. I tried to make Avallac'h stay and help, for I knew there was little chance Skjall would make it on his own. But he knocked me out and took me away. I don't know what happened to Skjall after that."

There was a huge rock, a cliff with a passage through it; it sat between the pathway leading from the village and the shore. Kain walked into it slowly, his footfalls quiet and yet still echoing faintly against the stony walls. He closed his eyes briefly, smelling the air, letting the sounds of the sea waves sloshing and ebbing fill his hearing and carry him to that day.

His hand skimmed along the cold stone until he was out and on the beach overlooking the sea. It was peppered with foamy patches on tops of the small waves. The wind had risen since the morning. He watched the ocean until he saw a boat with his inner eye. The boat was on the sand, and a tall figure stood beside it. Another one came, her ashen strands of hair blowing around her neck and cheeks; they argued shortly, and then the tall figure did something as quick as snapping fingers in front of Ciri's face; she fell back and he caught her.

"He saw your friend knock you out," Kain said, trusting Ciri was hovering behind him somewhere. "He turned back to help you, but he was knocked out of the saddle." Kain surveyed the sand, walking slowly until he stood before the spot the village boy fell. "He passed out shortly, after seeing your friend take you away in a boat. When he woke up, it was over. His village and family was no more, just like his honor and name."

Kain blinked, clearing his mind, and turned to her.

"Whatever happened to him didn't happen here. It's like they said – the Garden. And that… Morkvarg."

"The Hunt just left him?" She frowned. That sounded unlikely, too. Unless they were panicking because they had lost track of her. "Should we go? To the garden?"

She was amazed at his display of magic, how easily it seemed to come to him and how he was so… in control. She longed for the day she would be able to use her own freely again, when she would get to practice.

"Whatever answers this story misses should be there," he shrugged, and began to walk.

Ciri fell into step beside him. He seemed to know where he was going. Either he had been to the Garden before or he'd asked for directions. "Did they say anything else? Those women? About the Garden?"

"There was some monster there cursed by Gods, and your friend wanted to kill it to restore his honor. But the monster killed him. And then your witcher mentor took care of the monster."

"Geralt," she said automatically. "His name is Geralt."

It pained her to know Skjall had gone there to fight a monster in order to regain his honor. And it infuriated her that the people who were left had turned on him.

Kain didn't respond, kept walking. He circled around the village and found his way back to the path the priestess pointed out.

Ciri followed, staying close to his side, unable to enjoy the beautiful nature surrounding them. Her head was filled with anger and petty thoughts of vengeance. She wanted to smack those women back at the village and make them eat their spiteful words.

When they finally came to their destination, they were forced to pause outside the gate. The locked gate. "Doesn't seem like they welcome visitors."

Kain turned sideways from the locked gate – there were stairs leading onto the wall surrounding the garden. He cast a glance at the brazier in the foot of the stairs and jogged up.

He strolled along the wall, surveying the Garden in mesmerized dismay. The giant tree in the middle of it was dying; the leaves were brown and dry and falling down with every breath of the wind. There was a carpet of them beneath it; and the smell reminded him of the corpses pit. He winced, his hand coming up unwittingly to his solar plexus where he felt it – a twirling, coiling ache that made him sick.

Ciri jogged up the stairs after him and came to a halt beside him, eyeing the place supposedly called The Garden. It did not look like a place worthy of a beloved Goddess.

Kain did not look too good. He looked faint and pale.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Not a pleasant energy… Are you sure you want to continue?"

Her touch started him a bit, and sobered. "Whatever lingers in that body is… it feels close to this… here. It's connected. It happened here."

"If this is where he died, that would make sense."

Kain went along the wall, turned with it and surveyed the tree and the space around it. There was a house behind it, as abandoned and cold as the garden appeared to be. From down at it from the wall, he noticed that not the whole Garden was decaying. It seemed like the disease was spreading from the tree, gradually eating up the rest of the green.

_Freyja…_

Kain stalled his step. It was like that gust of wind inside the temple last night, coming from nowhere and carrying the name in a whisper.

It was Her garden, and it was dying. Not dead yet, but dying. He wondered why Ermion and his druids wouldn't at least try to do something about it.

Hesitating for another moment, he continued along the wall until he reached the turn leading to the central square where the tree and the house were. It was a circle in a circle, the centerpiece of the garden, its heart. It's diseased heart.

The smell of decay intensified, making his stomach turn and his solar plexus ache as if he was dipped in something toxic. He swallowed and approached the tree as if it could attack. Kain gazed up into the damaged canopy. The leaves fell solemnly around him shuffling softly in the breeze.

Ciri watched him move for a short moment, then followed, giving him the space he needed to work. He was like Yennefer, their methods looked similar. Once more she felt that pang of longing. Magic… Ciri could feel it all around her. But she was too scared to tap into it. Too scared of anything that could lead Eredin to her. "What happened to that tree? Can you tell?"

Kain looked down at the round table of white stone with a dark stain on its flat surface. He didn't need to look closer to know it was blood. It had the same black smoke coil over it like steam over a hot drink on a cold day. It seemed to be the place for offerings to the Goddess. The man from the village tried to do it right.

Something went terribly wrong, though.  
"Not yet," Kain responded, strolling around the tree and scrutinizing the ground around it.

There was a metal grit almost fully covered beneath decaying leaves and ivy strings. He glanced back at the table; he knew what he would see if he touched it. He could as well not waste his time.

Kain went ahead toward the house, but something stopped me mid-step. The medallion beneath his shirt sensed the energy. He hesitated, refraining from touching a hand to the Cat pendant, then followed the trail. It led him sideways from the house and down onto the first level of the garden.

It was still green and looked like any long abandoned garden – wild and lush.

"Your Witcher was here," he informed the girl upstairs, and heard a growl.

A wolf appeared from the bushes, snarling.

Staring it into the eyes, Kain slowly lowered down on one knee and waited. The wolf growled, then sniffed the air, undecided. Eventually, it approached with caution, stretching his neck to sniff. Something in his yellow eyes shifted, and fear-filled anger dissipated. It licked its muzzle and trotted away, through the wooden doorway deeper into the garden.

Ciri watched him from above with growing fascination, how he moved, how at ease he felt with nature.

Something that was further cemented when a wolf appeared and Kain knew just what to do. It made her feel some kind of way… Proud? Proud to know him. To watch him.

She smiled.

Kain threw a glance where the wolf went, but decided to try the path that led ahead. He passed a fountain – it wasn't working, the water seemed stall, the walls of the basin beneath the water was tainted with greenish growth.

There was a dead wolf lying on the stony path, cut down by a sword, seemed like. The Witcher's.

Growling, another wolf appeared. It watched him for a moment, unmoving, then trotted past him much like the first one.

Kain looked down at the dead wolf. "Squaess," he murmured. "Aé gloire taedh." He waved a hand over the carcass, and it flames encompassed it, soaking it rapidly and reducing to ash.

The stairs leading to the tree level were magnificent once, as white as the table next to the trunk. Now it was broken, as if a giant axe cut it in two.

He turned and went back to the passage after the wolves.

Ciri stayed up on the stony walkway where she could keep an eye on him, slowly trailing the path. He moved out of sight every now and then and it took several seconds before he reappeared.

She wasn't worried. She could feel him. Some kind of magic? She did not know. Mostly it just felt like the sensation she had experienced when on the water, being drawn to the tower, or possibly Kain, like a magnet.

Kain came out to the back of the house; the back door was sealed shut with wooden planks. Next to the house was an old pergola with drying climbing plants covering it in uneven patches. Beyond that little backyard there was a lower level and a water channel with clear water separating the sectors of the garden.

He stood on the wall over the channel, listening, feeling for directions. There was something important on the other side. He hopped off the wall onto the roof of a shed, then to the ground. The channel was not wide enough, so he stepped a bit back, then dashed and leapt over.

There were two levers on stony columns on the other side. He figured they were for the wooden trap doors built in the channel. He sensed the Witcher's energy again, faintly. It had been a while, and the Witcher didn't spent much time on this spot. The energy was pulling Kain away, further to the side.

He moved out of sight again and when Ciri finally leaped down after him, it was not from concern but curiosity. It took her a few minutes to catch up with Kain. He was standing near some sort of river. "Anything?"

He peered at her standing on the other side, on the edge he jumped off. "Your Witcher's trail is all around here. I'll see what he found."

He climbed lightly up the stony crumbling fence and went further along the water channel to a big cave entrance. It smelled of a beast from inside it. He didn't sense anything alive in there. It had to be Morkvarg's lair.

He took a deep breath and went in, slowly to adjust his vision.

Ciri did not follow this time. What would be the point? She wouldn't be able to see her own feet in that cave, even with the daylight streaming in.

She remained by the river, waiting, sensing his movements as he descended into the dark.

The cave was rather big. In the center there was a stick with an old yellow skull on top of it; a bonfire ashes next to it. Kain got flashes of a tall figure, hunched over and strange, pacing around muttering and growling.

_Pain. Hate. Despair so deep it makes you want to scream until your head bursts—_

He winced, rubbing his face, and shook his head in hopes to clear his mind. Morkvarg was gone, his presence faint like a faded painting. Many people died in the cave and around it, he could sense it, could feel the screams, the rage of the beast mixed with immense suffering.

Kain emerged from the cave with knowledge that it wasn't the place to help him. A few feet away there was another broken bridge leading to a stony archway with a grid door. He saw it was slightly ajar. He hopped over and entered another part of the garden.

He didn't say anything, silent and with his face pinched in concentration. Ciri didn't disturb, assuming he would tell her once he found something that mattered.

She wondered why Geralt and Yennefer had come here. How had they known Skjall had been her saviour? Had the women back in the village told them and sent them here? Or had they used magical means? She suddenly wished they were here so she could ask.

That part of the garden preserved the most beauty, it seemed. Perhaps because of it being the farthest from the tree where, Kain felt, the nasty thing happened.

However, the temple's big door lay on the ground as though knocked out from the inside. Deep scratches covered the darkened wood.

"Morkvarg," he muttered to himself and stood at the threshold.

The temple was thrashed, candle holders broken, a few skeletons sprawled in various poses suggesting they didn't just choose to sit down and die.

A thick chain snaked across the room dividing it in two. On the end of it there was a huge paw. Gnawed off.

"Morkvarg was a werewolf," he said. "Your friend was not the first one to try to kill him. They all died."

He squatted down and looked at the long gashes in the wooden floor. Claws.

"The Witcher fought him here. And won."

"Witchers tend to be more successful in those matters than us mere mortals," Ciri murmured, stepping inside and eyeing the severed paw with mingled fascination and disgust. "It is likely Skjall met his end here as well then? This garden, I mean. The priestess was not lying?"

"He died here, yes. But not in this temple. Outside." He glanced around, giving it a thought. "He tried to hide here at some point, but then the werewolf found him, and he tried to defeat him outside. He…" Kain trailed off, turning to step away from the threshold and across the lawn, following the string he sensed. There was still the Witcher's trail – he found it.

There was a hole in the ground, probably an old well. Kain looked down and saw the sky reflecting on the water surface.

"He fell down there and… it was his end. Feels like Witcher had to go down there for the body."

"What could they hope to gain from his corpse?" she mused. "Geralt is noble, yes, but when in a hurry I doubt he would stop to tend to the dead while the living are in danger."

She peered down into the crack, unable to see much at all.

A shred of conversation fluttered in his head; Kain stilled for a moment, catching the thread once again, then followed it in silence. Trying to listen and feel his way, he didn't notice how he got back to the tree and was strolling around it slowly until he stopped at the table once again.

The churning sensation was crawling back into his solar plexus. He winced. The Cat medallion buzzed with energy and not in a good way. It made him want to take it off and rub the skin beneath it. He was staring at the ground before him, and it felt strange… bad… painful.

"He brought the body here," Kain murmured. "She wanted it… for a ritual. Dark magic… that is what happened to the body. It's what happened to this place. The ritual. She reversed the magic, bent it backwards to make the corpse speak… It upset the very power of this place and poisoned it. Through its heart."

Blinking, he staggered back and lowered to one knee to regain balance, pushing the visions away.

"She drew the power from the tree, twisting it as she did, and that ritual defiled both the garden and the body."

Ciri swallowed, listening attentively to his every word.

_Yennefer_.

She'd brought him back to live? Ciri did not know that was possible. Not with someone who had been dead so long.

She must have been searching for information. Information about Ciri, Avallac'h, and The Hunt. It did not surprise Ciri in the least Yennefer would use such drastic methods. She'd always gone to extremes to try and protect her child.

Kain fell to his knee and Ciri lowered opposite him. He had a look in his eye that made her think he was in the verge of collapsing.

She brought a hand to his cheek, her fingers barely making contact with his skin. She worried her touch might upset him but she could not help herself. "Are you alright? Perhaps we should leave this place."

Her touch startled him a little; his gaze snapped up to lock on hers. He shook his head and peered at the tree, up at the branches above that looked like dried out fingers of a corpse.

"It's not going to be contained here," he said. "This poison, that reversed energy still goes on. It will spread further. The whole Garden will die, and then the forests around, and then the villages and then…" He didn't want to imagine this foul magic seeping into the sea and through it. "I have to try to do something about it."

Ciri frowned, still amazed by his knowledge but also highly worried about the potential of the islands dying.

"Can I help?" she asked. "Is there anything I can do?"

He got up to his feet, feeling heavy, as if the air itself was trying to weigh him down. "Not when you can't use your powers, nor know how. Freyja will have to help me with that. It's her Garden.

"You might not want to stay here until… it's over."

Ciri stood as well, still frowning with concern. "Where will you go?"

He gave her a briefly confused look. "You will go – back to the village or the cave, whichever you prefer. I have to stay here to figure out how to do it."

"I'm not leaving you here alone, Kain." What if he collapsed, or the tainted magic somehow managed to harm him. She could not with good conscience go back to the cave and simply wait. "If it makes things easier with me out of the way, I will step outside the main gate and wait there. But I go no further."

He opened his mouth to argue, but then it was not fair: he didn't leave her, either, even if he didn't know why.

He sighed. "Best for you to be outside."

She nodded. "Be safe."

Reluctantly, she climbed back up the stone wall, onto the raised walkway that circled the garden. Ciri did as she had said and descended the stairs outside, settling down next to a wooden signpost that carried Freyja's name. "Please protect him," she whispered. "Please keep him safe."


	9. Chapter 9

Kain watched her go, making sure she was outside as she promised before he went back to the temple.

He stood in the middle for a while, eyes closed, and let his mind get quiet so he could search for Her. She was responding, but it was like calling out to a friend while a hurricane raged around you.

He called out to Freyja and the powers that dwelled in the temple before the beast came. He burned the paw first; it went in flames that flashed green, blue and red and then dissipated as if a mere vision.

He carefully lay the skeletons of the fallen priestesses on the floor and covered them with old curtains still hanging from the walls. Then he returned to the tree. The path led through the whole garden, and he took his time. The wolves were watching him, but wisely staying where they were. He took the sword off, lay it on the ground at the stony border of the clearing, then came up to the table. The blood staining it was dark, almost black, like a demon's.

Kain stood still, closing his eyes, and once again letting go of needless thoughts.

The druids taught him many spells; dryads had their own, just as humans and mages. He was making his own that didn't come into words or sounds, but rather weaved itself of energies interlacing and entwining each other and reaching further and higher and deeper. He didn't linger on images or visions, and they stopped, turned into mist and diamond dust sparkling and dancing like butterflies in the sun. He felt the power flow, he felt its pulse, the core still pumping like an eternal heart. He felt the rhythm. He knew the route now.

He blinked his eyes open, unclasping the wolf-fur jacket. He shrugged it off and lay it beside the sword. He pulled the blade out of its sheath and returned to the table, shivering both from cold and anxiety. His self-preservation screamed within him, willing to turn back, desperate to run.

Kain exhaled shakily and pressed the blade to his left forearm and slid it cutting the skin. It stung; blood welled up and trickled down on the table, crimson drops spilling over the black. He repeated it with his right arm, then let the sword drop in the dead grass.

Fighting the shivering, he stood before the tree, so close its bark was in front of his face. His breath came out in thin smoke against it.

Kain closed his eyes and put his palms on the trunk, feeling the blood trickle down his arms and to the roots around his feet that lay like heaps of dead snakes. He sought the route, sought out the core, the beating heart pumping the bad flow through the garden's veins. He felt the rhythm falling in sync with his heart as it went slower… and slower…

He reached out to Her, to the Great Mother whose arms invited for a warm embrace among the bed of flowers.

There was no more cold or stinging cuts, no more wind or wolves, no more thoughts or fears while he guided Her voice to the heart that beat in sync with his.

_She sang… like my mother… closer…_

_… touching every string of love I had for her inside of me, one by one, like breaths of wind touching blades of grass in its wake… _

and Her voice was entwining with the flawed rhythm like crystal water flowing into dark molasses to fill the chalice and push the darkness out drop by heavy drop. It was gentle but insisting and trickled in, through and around, filling and soothing and washing away the bitter dark like rain washes away the dirt from the rocks.

The wind grew stronger in sudden gusts rushing around and past Ciri and through the Garden like a galloping horse. It twirled and dashed and whistled, tearing through the knotted branches of the tree and ripping the dead leaves off; they whirled around and flew and fell on the ground. The clouds thickened above the Garden, lightning flashed once, twice, and then thunder cracked shaking the ground. Heavy drops of rain fell down quicker and quicker until there was a curtain of falling water thick as a fog.

The thunder roared another time and quieted in the distant mountains; the rain began to weaken and eventually stopped.

The table of white marble glistened in the timid ray of sun that peeked first through the dispersing clouds; it got brighter and shone generously over the tree that stood proud and lush with a thick green canopy of young leaves. Strings of crawling green ivies draped patches of the bark like decorations peppered with small white flowers. Not a drop of water on them – it all soaked into the ground from every surface it hit as if there was never any rain.

Among the roots lay the boy, his pale face calm as if deeply asleep; the bright green blades of new grass moved gently in the breeze around his body and outstretched arms still oozing blood and the blade of his sword that lay to the side, sunlight glaring brightly against the smooth metal. Gusts of wind played with the boy's white hair and the wolf fur of his jacket that lay at the stony arch.

Somewhere on the lower level, a wolf howled.

* * *

A shiver ran through Ciri like a foreboding. She found she did not like being so far from Kain. Not now, not while he was doing… whatever it was he was doing. But she stayed as she said she would.

She got to her feet once a powerful rush of wind flew her way, making her hair dance around her head. Her gaze drifted to the sky above the garden which had turned an ominous black. Lightening cracked and thunder roared a split second behind, rain suddenly pouring down by the bucketful, immediately drenching her.

She moved to the gate and curled her fingers around the wrought iron, attempting to see Kain but he was out of view. Her heart pounded and leapt in her chest, fear making her stomach clench painfully.

When the storm ceased and Kain still did not return, she threw caution to the wind and hurried back inside. She knew exactly where he was, could feel him like a pulsing beacon that drew her to him.

She barely even noticed the fresh and lush state of the garden, for her attention was solely for him. "Kain!"

He lay on the ground, eyes closed and arms bleeding. A sight that made her heart ache.

She rushed to him, tried to coax him awake with no success and reached for the dagger in her belt, shedding her cloak and cutting at her own shirtsleeves. She tied them tightly around his wounds to staunch the bleeding and pulled him into her lap, his back resting against her front as she wrapped her arms around him.

He was still alive, still warm, but for how long? If the blood loss did not do him in, whatever magic he had used here might. It had been too much.

What was she going to do? Her first instinct, as always, was to envelop him in her power and transport him somewhere they could find help. Even with the knowledge of what that would mean, it felt like it'd be worth it. She even felt the buzzing in her ears, the vibrations beneath her skin – a telltale sign of her power crawling its way to the surface.

She suddenly wished Avallac'h was here. He was an excellent healer. But would he even want to help.

No. She doubted he would.

What would Kain tell her to do?

She hugged him to her, shivering a little from the cold that had seeped into her bones after the heavy rain, her lips resting against the top of his head as she finally examined her surroundings. He'd done it. The Garden was restored with renewed life and love. This was a healing place… A healing place.

"Great Goddess Freyja," Ciri said, her eyes on the majestic tree before her, her senses reaching for that warm and comforting energy she had felt from the Goddess the night before. "Please save him. I beg of you, Merciful Mother. Heal your faithful son. Your blessings upon him, my obeisance to you." She closed her eyes and prayed further, attempting to cloak Kain with the love and power she felt emanate from the tree, whispering into his damp hair. "Please, please, please…"

There was a sudden sound behind her, catching her by surprise. A white cat trotted toward her. It approached, purring, and rubbed its head against Ciri's elbow, the bushy white tail tickling her arm as the cat passed, circling. It rubbed its head against the boy's cheek and returned to Ciri, staring into the girl's eyes with a bright blue of its own.

"Oh Gods... How is this possible?"

The women from the village slowly approached with the priestess in the lead.

"Child... What happened 'ere?"

The cat gave a loud meow and ran past the women and into the depth of the garden.

"It's a miracle," one of the women whispered. "Great Mother..."

Ciri followed the cat with her gaze as it disappeared between the leafy greens; and only when it was out of sight did she focus on the group of women. Freyja had answered her prayers. She was so relieved she could weep.

"He restored the garden," she said, shifting slightly beneath Kain's weight. "Cleansed it. But he is badly hurt. I can't wake him."

One of the younger women crouched down beside them and carefully lifted one of the makeshift bandages from Kain's arm, peering beneath it with an assessing gaze. "The bleedin' has almost stopped. But we must make sure the wounds do not get infected. Wait here," she said and straightened again, wandering off.

"Where is she going?" Ciri asked one of the others.

The Priestess smiled. Whatever animosity had been between them before seemed to have vanished. "Gatherin' supplies. The Goddess provides for her children."

She turned to some of the other women. "Mira, Ingunn, go back to the village and bring a horse and cart. And send for a healer. We will treat the boy's injuries here but he will need plenty of rest in a warm bed after."

The two women disappeared, as well.

Ciri did not relinquish her hold on Kain even as the first woman returned with leaves she could not identify and some sort of mud. Ciri held him as she and the Priestess tended to his wounds, smearing the mud like paste over the gashes before sealing it with the herbs, wrapping Ciri's sleeves back around his arms to hold everything in place.

"We have more supplies back at the village," the Priestess assured when Ingunn and Mira returned a short time after, and they were cautiously carrying Kain's body from the garden. Ciri climbed onto the cart they'd brought and the women deposited him into her embrace again. They walked beside her, leading the horse back to the village.

The priestesses brought their guests to one of the huts in the village with a warm hearth where fire crackled and herbs hung along the walls and on the balks in bound bunches drying. It smelled of hay and herbal tea.

The women put the boy to bed in another room, covered with furs to warm up, and offered Ciri some hot tea and a bowl of soup.

"We wondered what the storm was," the oldest woman, who the hut belonged to, said, feeding logs to the fire. "But we was afeared to go look. Thought ye newcomers upset the Goddess again…" She clucked her tongue. "But then the storm cleared and Mother sent us a sign, brought us to ye. Tis a miracle, child. Mother be praised."

Ciri sank into a chair. Someone removed the cloak from her shoulders and hung it up to dry by the fire.

"Yes. I prayed. She listened," Ciri said, her gaze on the doorway of the room they had put Kain in. She did not like the distance between them. Not when he was unconscious and weakened.

She absentmindedly stirred her soup with a wooden spoon but did not eat. Hunger was not on her mind in the least. Nor was the cold. "Is he going to be alright?"

The woman gave Ciri a meek smile, a bit apologetic. "I'm no healer, child, I can't know. But Mother takes care of her children. She knows.

"Ye gotta eat. Ye need yer strength and warmth. These lands are stark, so must ye be. Eat, and then rest."

Ciri ate, without gusto, forcing herself to devour the soup because she could not bear their concerned attention being on her when it should have been on Kain.

"Thank you," she said once finished, managing a smile for them. It was genuine.

Then she stood and made her way into Kain's room, pulling a chair from the corner towards his bed so she could sit beside him and hold his hand with hers. She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb and closed her eyes, trying to transfer some of her strength to him so he would recover.

The sun barely began to shift from its zenith when the door in the hut opened and let the druid in.

The older woman set her fishnet she had been fixing aside and greeted him, then stood up and left while he headed into the room.

"Ciri!" Mousesack called walking in. His eyes skimmed her as if searching for injuries, then focused on Kain in bed. "What happened to you here?"

Mousesack's voice cut through the silence, startling her. Ciri immediately stood, for a moment uncertain if he was actually here or if she had fallen into another dream. "Mousesack..." she looked from him to Kain. "He cleansed the Garden of Freyja, cut himself quite deeply in the process, lost a lot of blood. He hasn't woken since. Help him. Please, help him."

Mousesack's face flashed with surprise close to shock, then a flicker of understanding. He bent over the bed, peeling away the furs covering Kain to his neck to examine him. He checked the cuts, as well, sniffed at the ointments the women used, then carefully pulled the furs over him again.

"Silly... so silly... So alike..." he muttered into his beard, looking preoccupied as he exited the room.

"What?" Ciri asked, having caught only pieces of his murmurings. She watched him leave the room but did not follow, her gaze returning to Kain. She quickly but gently pushed his bangs out of his eyes and felt his forehead with her hand. He did not feel like he had a fever, but she knew that could change quickly.

Mousesack returned later and occupied the stove, sorting through baggies and vials while the water boiled in a small pot. He picked, sniffed and threw ingredients together, then stirred for a long moment before taking it off fire, and covered it to cool down.

"Cirilla," he called and waited for her to come out. He fixed her with a stern look and shook his head reprimandingly. "Why are you even here? Why in the name of Gods have you escaped with him?"

His call brooked no argument and she reluctantly left Kain to speak to the old druid. He looked at her was though he was a disappointed father. She got that a lot from people lately.

"I did not escape with him," she said. "We ran into each other at the tavern in Larvik."

She folded her arms across her chest, unafraid – for now – of his stern and piercing gaze. "I left Kaer Trolde because Avallac'h insists on treating me like a prisoner. I will not allow it. Not from anyone."

Mousesack scowled, "Ran into each other…" He shook his head again, this time with a lament. "Oh, my child... I know Avallac'h's methods of working with you are not too gentle, it is so. But he means to help you, Ciri. He has less patience for whims on your side. I know it must be rather hard on you to be confided - you have never liked that. But the circumstances are grave. And that outburst of power..."

He sighed deeply and stroked his beard, pacing slowly across the room.

"So silly..."

"A prison built with love and affection is still a prison," she pointed out. "The circumstances have always been grave. Just because no one but me was around to witness it…" She frowned, watching him move across the room. "It wasn't mine. The outburst – that was not me. I have not guided Eredin back on my trail."

"I know, I know…" Mousesack muttered, frowning deeply. "But still…"

He checked the pot, stirred again, then turned to Ciri.

"It's not safe to be on your own, Cirilla. You cannot afford it right now. You need to go back to Avallac'h or - if you prefer - to my camp. Where you won't be alone and so vulnerable."

"I am only vulnerable until The Hunt finds me," she said. "Once they do I have free reign of my powers." She eyed the doorway to Kain's room. "I am not leaving him behind. Not while he is wounded. And I pity the man who tries to make me."

"He was raised by druids, Ciri," Mousesack said. "He's not as helpless as you think. It was a very reckless endeavor, and he spent too much power on it, but I can help with it. You cannot. When he wakes, you will leave with me. Are we in agreement?"

_Not as helpless as me, he meant._ That filled Ciri with derision. She tried to push it aside.

"Heal him. Save him. And I will go with you when he has recovered."

Mousesack sighed. "For me to help he should be able to drink. For now, he is on his own. With whatever powers that guide him. We have to wait, child."

"Then we wait." She turned and headed back for the bedroom, taking her seat beside Kain again, finding his hand with hers.

"You haven't told me why you came here," the druid pointed out, entering the room. His sharp eyes scanned Ciri and Kain's hand in hers.

"To Lofoten?" she shrugged lightly. "You know I was here before, with Avallac'h. When The Hunt came there was a man from this village who helped me. Risked his life. I wanted to see if he was still alive. To thank him."

"I assume you haven't found him among the living," he said, and hemmed with a sympathetic look. "Almost everybody was slain that day." He waved a hand in Kain's direction. "He's been with you all this time? I would expect the opposite from him. That is strange."

"He died. Not by the Wild Hunt's hand but by the shunning of his own people," she stated bitterly, then turned her gaze to Kain again. "Why is it so strange? Because he is a loner? Perhaps he has just not met 'his people' yet."

Mousesack chortled softly. "He's not always been alone. It's what he chose eventually. For the best for all."

"You speak of him as though he is some sort of monster." She narrowed her eyes at the druid. "Why?"

The druid looked at her with pensive scrutiny. "Do you consider Geralt a monster? And yet many do. Many call him Butcher of Blaviken instead of by name. Does it mean that only your opinion matters and theirs does not?"

"No. But I when I choose who to care for, who to spend my time with, then my opinion matters most."

Mousesack sighed. "That is it, child: Geralt you _know_, but this man you do not. They are not the same."

Ciri fixed him with a look. "And so I should shun him? Fear him because I do not know him? He has yet to give me a single reason not to trust him."

"It amazes me how you are so open to trust a loner you do not know after everything you've been through." The druid stroked his beard, pondering. "Avallac'h attempted to find you but failed. Do you know why, perhaps? Had he known about your new companions, he would be here before me."

_And how do you know what I have been through? _He didn't. Not everything. No one but Ciri knew that.

"He's special," she said without truly knowing why that word had come to her. It was true, though. She could feel it in her bones.

The fact Avallac'h had been searching and had failed, brought the slightest of smiles to her lips.

_Freyja will provide_. "Of course, I know. And he would be here regardless, Mousesack. He fears he is losing his hold on me. That I am slipping through his fingers."

"Are you?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps. To a certain degree. I do not wish to be his captive. Only to stand beside him as his equal as we enter this upcoming battle. I tire of having no say in what happens to me."

"If he ever saw you as his equal, Cirilla, I would be very surprised. Doesn't matter what you are capable of doing and how amazing it is. Elves are just not seeing things the way humans want them to."

"Does not mean I will allow him to walk all over me. He is not my father, nor my guardian. I am a grown woman, for fu–"

Kain stirred subtly, gaining Mousesack's attention.

"Try to wake him, I'll bring the brew."

As Mousesack exited the room, she gently cupped Kain's cheek, cautiously attempting to rouse him. "Kain? Can you hear me?"

Kain winced, trying to get his wits together, and opened his eyes enough to see the girl's blurry image. Keeping them open was too hard an effort, and he didn't bother. He felt utterly drained and barely awake.

Her questions reached him belatedly.

"I... can..."

"You are safe," she said because he needed to know. "Mousesack is with me. You need to sit up, just a little. So you can drink. Will you let me help you?"

Not that he had too much of a choice.

Her voice blurred into just a sound and Kain could no longer make out any sense.

He felt someone's hand lifting his head and something pouring into his mouth. It was warm and tasted strange; he smelt and felt something familiar that made him struggle to search his memory.

Mousesack.

It felt like a dream, all of it: the Garden, the druid... and the girl...

When Mousesack lowered Kain's head back on the pillow, he was asleep again.

"Couldn't drink it all," the druid said, peeking into the mug, "but that should do. He should get better."

"Good," she breathed, hovering behind the druid. "Good. Thank you."

She took a seat again. All in all today had been emotional and draining, and she was starting to feel it.

"How long until we should be able to see improvements? Hours? Days?"

"I've never seen him like this," said the druid. "I cannot judge. Time will tell. But I believe you would benefit from rest, my child."

Ciri ignored that advice for now, because another thought had struck her. "His griffin… Do you think it will feel what has happened? Will he continue to stay out of sight?"

"The griffin will be fine," Mousesack said on his way back to the stove. "It knows what's safe and what isn't."

"Right," she murmured. "Of course."

She leaned forward in her seat to straighten the fur-covers, pausing when she felt something hard and angular upon his chest. Something beneath his shirt. A necklace judging by the chain around his neck, one she hadn't actually noticed whenever he wore his cloak.

She gently pulled the pendant from its confines and stared when she found, in her palm, a witcher amulet.

_Cat School._

She frowned, eyeing Kain with confusion as if hoping he'd wake up and provide answers. "Mousesack," she called eventually. "Is he a witcher?"

A pause. "No, Ciri. His only mutation is that he is a half-blood."

What did that mean then? Had the man he killed been a witcher? Had he taken the amulet as some sort of trophy? Like Bonhart had done with all the witchers he had murdered?

Or was it something else? Had he spent time with the Cat School witchers? Trained with them like she had with the Wolves? It was not impossible. And she was absolutely certain the amulet was real and not some cheap trinket sold at the markets. She could feel its power.

She swallowed thickly and tucked the amulet back in Kain's shirt, leaning back in her seat.

Mousesack returned a few moments later and considered Ciri with a contemplative look. "No need to sit by his side at all times, child. He's perfectly fine on his own. There is the Mother Goddess celebration in Larvik tonight. It could lift your spirits. I shall accompany you."

"I thought we already had this conversation," she said, a slight edge to her tone because she sensed that more than anything Mousesack simply wanted her as far away from Kain as possible. "I am not leaving him. You got your deal. Now stick to it."

"What are you afraid is going to happen to him here? Under these women's supervision? If not for you, he'd be alone in the woods somewhere with that griffin, and he'd still come out all right. You have nothing to fear, child. You have my word. I merely wanted to help you feel something other than 'being a prisoner', as you called it."

"I don't feel like a prisoner here, with him. So until he tells me to piss off, or wakes up healed and well, I'll stay. Whichever comes first." It was more than just a desire to be by his side. It was instinct – deep and primal.

Feeling she had been a tad harsh with the druid, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, smiling a little.

"You should go enjoy the celebration. I suppose you go every year?"

"I came here for you, child," he responded patiently. "I was worried something might have happened while Avallac'h has not been able to help and protect you. Your running off brought us both a lot of worry. More so to him now, for he still doesn't know what happened to you."

"What do you think of him?" she asked. "Avallac'h?"

The druid reflected. "I believe Geralt is right in his assessment of the elf. Avallac'h is not fully on anyone's side but his own, not following any agendas other than his own. There are some beneficial things he can grant you, my child, but one day, there would be a price. You have to be careful with him and his kin. They do not like to share anything with anyone freely, be it knowledge or power. Aen Elle never share power."

"I know," she said softly. They were a lot like mages that way. Even Yennefer was reluctant to share information until she absolutely had to – even with Geralt.

Ciri did, of course, also wonder what would happen should she manage to stop The White Frost. Would he have more demands of her? Would he attempt to take her back to Tir Na Lia? Only time would tell.

"If you insist on staying here, I shall go converse with the priestesses and come see you later. I shall hope you will be safe and will not venture anywhere alone."

He nodded and went out of the room, closing the door slightly, leaving it ajar.

Ciri nodded, then turned her focus back on the sleeping Kain. Her backside was starting to hurt, so she got up to move, slowly pacing the room to get some blood back in her lower body.

She adjusted the angle of the chair and sat down again eventually, finding Kain's fingers with her own.

She was prepared to wait for however long this would take. And she did. Though in the end, she slowly drifted off.

* * *

Kain woke with effort – the sleepiness was tugging him back into the dreamless rest as he surfaced from its depth, slowly and reluctantly. He felt something on his hand and raised his head a bit (with effort) to see.

The girl was sleeping hunched on a wooden chair that looked anything but comfortable. She was going to ache all over. Her fingers were interlaced with his.

He considered freeing it, but didn't need to do it right away. He carefully freed the other hand from beneath the furs and rubbed his eyes, trying to get more awake.

He felt tired, bordering on exhaustion, and as if he could spend another day or five just lying without moving. It alarmed him, nudging him to get out of the hut and run back to the woods. It was unsettling to be under a man-made roof.

But he was so tired…

He heaved a sigh, casting another gander at their hands, then at the girl. She seemed to be slowly slipping sideways. Another minute or two, and her weight would land her on the floor.

He gave her fingers the subtlest of squeezes and said quietly, "Chairs are the worst to sleep in."

Ciri jerked awake as though someone had smacked her, groaning at the soreness she immediately felt in her neck.

Still, she smiled, because her discomfort didn't matter now she saw he was awake. She gently squeezed his fingers in return before releasing him, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her thighs. "Hey… How do you feel?"

"Like I've been carrying Griffin on me for a week."

He stretched and shifted, both wishing to get up and stay down. Had it been the cave, he'd get up with less trouble. As always.

"The priestess and her women came. This is their house," she said, and in case he hadn't caught on before. "And Mousesack is here. He's quite, um, peeved. At the both of us, I think. Mostly he just mutters under his breath."

Kain nodded knowingly and pushed the furs off to sit up, slung his feet down, stilling to stave off dizziness that covered him and filled his vision with momentary blackness.

When it passed, he bent down to pull his boots on. The Cat medallion slipped out from the neck of his shirt, dangling. Well, hiding it was too late, then, wasn't it.

"So," she said casually once his medallion slipped from his neckline. "You have a witcher amulet but you are no witcher. Like me. Does this mean you have a Geralt of your own?"

"No." He pulled on the second boot and cast a quick peek at her as he straightened up to wait out another bout of lightheadedness. "It only means I was trained like a witcher. There is no… Geralt."

Ciri nodded, accepting that explanation. "Stranger and stranger, all these coincidences that befall us," she murmured, getting to her feet and lifting the chair back where she had found it.

He gave a small scoff of amusement, carefully getting up, holding a hand to the wall for certainty. "How many are there?"

"The hair, the magic, the animals, the witcher training, elven ancestry, the fact we are both charming and insanely gorgeous," she grinned, mostly at that last part, before she sobered again, watching him. "Sure you should be moving? Worried about the griffin?"

"I'm not worried, I just can't be playing corpse for too long. Especially in a bed. It's… strange." He looked around. "You know where they put my jerkin?"

"Might still be out on the cart. They treated your wounds in the garden."

Kain only just remembered about his cuts. He looked down at them with confusion and began to peel one of the bandages off. Now that he remembered, it stung a little, though the healing had already begun.

He wiped the mass they had applied to the cuts with the bandages and tossed them into fire as he passed by the hearth on his way to the door.

The air was chilly and fresh, coming from the sea.

She headed out towards where she'd seen one of the woman leave the cart earlier while she freed the horse, lifting the heap of furs there they had prepared for Kain for the journey back from the garden.

She found it soon enough, grateful one of the women had thought to bring it because Ciri had not. Her attention had solely been on Kain.

"Here," she said, heading back for the main doorway.

"Thanks." He pulled the jerkin on, not bothering with the straps yet. "And the sword?"

"Inside," she slipped past him and headed for the kitchen where his sword stood leaning against the wall. "They cleaned it. They're very grateful for what you did."

She handed it to him and stepped back, looking for any signs of Mousesack amongst the small cluster of abandoned houses.

Kain slipped it on behind his back and leaned against the hut's wall, taking in the rocks in the sea in the distance. "So it worked, then… in the garden."

"Yes," she smiled. "The garden is restored. And Freyja thanked you by sending us help."

She looked towards the direction of the crags, surprised it did not carry the scent of decay to the village. "Do you think Skjall is… Would I be able to touch him now?"

"If the Garden is as it should be now, then it's safe to try the water. It should cleanse him – in theory."

He detached from the hut and began to walk the path leading back to the garden.

"Wait," she said the moment he started to head off.

She dashed back inside and fetched a leather bottle, one meant to carry water on journeys. They'd need it.

She fell into step beside him moments after, their course set for the garden. She could have worried about his ability to walk that far so soon after he'd woken up, but decided not to. He deserved to see it, the lush green that had come alive once more.

Kain still felt tired and drained – as much he figured while they walked. A few women staying around the village stopped them to thank once again and wonder whether he should be up, and he put on the best acting face to convince them not to chain him down in a shed somewhere for the next few days.

On the way through the forest road, however, he felt it all. He felt like lying down somewhere in the shrubs and stare at the sky until he passed out. But going back to bed didn't feel like an option at all. For too many years he hadn't been comfortable letting himself sleep among strangers.

"This could wait until tomorrow," she told him, his exhaustion not going amiss. "If you want to head back for the cave, get some real rest?"

Her logic almost made him smile. They weren't as alike as she might be thinking, after all.

"I don't know what happens tomorrow, or whether it comes. I have now. I live now. So whatever I do, I do it now."

"Even if it means running yourself into the ground for something I asked of you?"

"Lying in bed when you're not dying is worse than extending the limits of your body a little," he reasoned, grateful to see the outline of the Garden wall ahead as we walked along the stream.

Ciri could agree with that. "A prison is a prison," she murmured.

They were silent until they reached the garden. Even now that daylight was waning, the change was evident. It had been dead and desolate before, like harvest had come too quickly and withered both grass and leaves. Now it felt like spring.

The gates were open this time, and there were four priestesses lurking about and cleaning the garden of fallen wolves' bones, remains and skeletons, getting the temple in order and lighting candles there. They gathered around the two briefly as they entered, and it was the rehearsal of what the women back in the village had said.

After all the courtesies they went to the tree where they sat down Kain told them about the man named Skiall's fate. They listened, and none interrupted or showed any distrust. They listened, gasped and shook their heads with sorrow plain in their faces.

"Tis so sad a tale," one of them lamented. "We ought to ask his soul to forgive our faulty judgement. His grave shall be among the honored. We will remember. North will remember its heroes and kind hearts. We thank ye both for opening our eyes. We thank ye for everything."

They went back to their chores and we descended the stairs to the lower level. Kain beckoned the girl and stopped at one of the fountains. The water in the white stony basin was clean as a tear now.

"Look." He shrugged the jerkin off onto the ground, took a handful of water from the basin and poured it over his forearm. As the trickle ran over his skin, the red cut began to turn paler and eventually it was unblemished skin as if he never cut it. "It's not my magic," he added, repeating it with the right arm.

Ciri did look and grasped his arm for closer examination, marveling at the wounds that healed as though they had never been there to begin with. "Amazing," she whispered, already feeling touched by how he had managed to convince the priestesses of Skjall's innocence. It meant the world to her. She was not sure she would ever be able to repay him.

She pulled the cork from her bottle and gently lowered it into the fountain, letting it fill.

"Will it be enough to cleanse him?" she asked Kain, holding the bottle up for him to see.

"There's only one way to find out." He pulled the jacket back on and led the way toward the gate. He gave the Garden a parting glance before exiting to stroll along the path back to the village. He was feeling better after they were sitting down and he sat against the tree. It filled him with the stamina he needed to see this through.

Kain seemed in better spirits and they made it back to the village a lot quicker than Ciri had assumed. They did not stop there this time, heading straight for the crags where they had left poor Skjall's body. He was still there, seemingly untouched by animals for now.

"His head and face?" she asked, crouching beside the corpse with her bottle in hand. "We don't have to, um, undress him, do we?"

"No need," he said, and winced subtly. "Not if you wish to pull his shirt off with what's left of the skin. Just pour it all over him."

Kain stuck the shovel they had picked from the shed in the village into the ground and glanced around.  
"Where do you want that grave?"

"Away from the crags," she said, looking at their immediate surroundings, "He should not have to rest eternally beside such filth."

She uncorked the bottle again and poured the water all over Skjall's body, watching him as if waiting for some big magical revelation to appear. It did not. Not for her.

She looked to Kain. "Is it working?"

Kain observed the body, then nodded. "Yes. Spread it on the ground."

He handed her the heap of a discarded sheet of a sail they had found in the same shed, and stepped closer to help her unwrap it next to the corpse. When they managed, he carefully placed the body on the sail with magic. It took a longer moment to get his pulse back on track – using powers was still a bit of a stretch – but had they dragged him, they could have ended up with two pieces or more. The preservation spell was wearing off quickly.

They wrapped him up, and Kain gestured for her to get the shovel. "All right, show us the place, princess."

Ciri grabbed the shovel and gestured to their right. "If I remember correctly, there's a patch of grass and weeds not far that way, with a view to the sea."

Like expected it did not take them long to get there, but it was a sufficient distance away from the crags. She shifted some rocks aside with her boots and begun digging, grateful the ground had not yet frozen. Otherwise they'd never get him in the soil.

By all human standards, Kain had to dig it himself. But from any elf descendant's point of view, she was an equal who was to not be treated as a weaker kind. He sat down on one of the rocks and watch her work.

'Each buries their own,' as one druid sage once said to him. He meant something a bit different, but this fit here.

When she was done and stepped away from the hole, panting, Kain dragged the body to it and they tried to lower the bundle into the grave as gently as they could manage.

He straightened up, uncertain if there was any more appropriate customs of her people she wanted to attend before finishing it.

Ciri was slightly out of breath once she'd dug sufficiently and lowering Skjall into the hole actually made for a nice break. She did not speak, immediately pushing the soil back in, stopping only once the open hollow looked more like a mound.

Wiping sweat from her brow, she stabbed the shovel into the ground next to her and lowered to her haunches. She placed a hand on the newly turned soil and inhaled deeply. "I thank you for your kindness, your hospitality, and your sacrifice, Skjall. May you find your wings to the Goddess."

She sat a while before finally getting back on her feet, fixing Kain with a small smile. "And thank you. I don't know how I will ever repay you your kindness and hard work. If there is ever anything I can do for you, please, do not hesitate to ask."

"There wasn't much of hard work or kindness," he said, taking the shovel, and turned to go back to the village to return it. "I did what felt right at the time."

"Not comfortable with gratitude?" she asked, slowly trailing him, wiping her hands on her thighs.

"Not used to it," he shrugged, approaching the shed.

Kain left the shovel in the corner where they plucked it from, then went toward the sea to wash his hands before returning to the cave. He missed the griffin, and there were a couple of hares to catch for dinner, unless he opted for the tavern again.

* * *

"How did it go?"

"He will not allow his troops to fight under command of the witchers."

"Oh…" Triss's hand found his as they walked the outskirts of Vizima, putting more distance between them and the palace. "That was to be expected."

"He still orders to bring her. I don't even know how to bring it up with her, let alone bring her here."

Her hand squeezed his. "You don't have to think about it right now, Geralt. We have a battle ahead of us. Everything else is beyond surviving that. Forget about him for now."

"You're right."

"I think here will be fine." She stopped behind one of the sheds of the village outside Vizima. It seemed to be secluded enough to open a portal and get out of there. "Where to now?"

"Kaer Trolde, Skellige. We have to get Ciri and Mousesack."

"And Avallac'h," Triss added softly. "Is he doing better after the curse?"

"I assume so. We haven't been sitting down to catch up."

"Skellige, then. What about your horse? Is it still in Novigrad? We could-"

"Vesemir took her with him. She is probably already at the keep with them."

"All right." She raised her hands, concentrating, and a swirl of golden lights yawned open in front of them. She took his hand and led him in.

The sun was already gone from the sky over the Northern Isles, and only a patch of reddish pink over the sea horizon marked its exit. They observed the village from the cliff hanging over it, then hurried to the town gates.

"Hjalmar and his men are on their way already," Crach said. "I'm so sorry, Geralt, but I can't spare any more warriors. We need them here in case of the Black Ones' attacks. Forgive me. You know how I feel about our little Cirilla. She's like a daughter of mine."

"It's all right, I understand." Geralt smiled. "She knows it, too. Do not beat yourself up."

"We all do what we can," Triss drawled in a gentle tone, smiling subtly.

"Aye, aye…" Crach pondered something, then focused on Geralt again. "You'll want to see the elf, I assume? He's been restless, the maids say. I'll have sent for him." He grinned and stepped into Geralt with a bear hug. He pulled back and nodded, "Best of luck to you all. May the Gods watch over you and help drive these demons off our earth. Be safe. And don't forget, you can always count on us here, you and Cirilla, and Yennefer, of course. Bring the girl here if you need, she'll be kept safe."

"I thank you, it means a lot," Geralt said.

When the elf caught up with them on their way to the stables, his usually unreadable expression was cracking under what Geralt could only interpret as anxiety of the highest order.

"Is she with you?" Avallac'h demanded in a soft voice that still managed to sound highly authoritative, his blue eyes flashing with concern and anger.

Geralt stopped dead in his tracks, his heart sank. He stared at the elf. "You lost her? I left her in your care and you lost her?!"

Triss peered wide-eyed between them.

"Zireael has taken to sneaking out at night," Avallac'h said through clenched teeth. "Like an impetuous child. Typical of your race. She has not returned since last night."

The Witcher's mind races with possibilities of what could have happened to her, his eyes boring into the elf's with growing ire.

Triss's hand found his again, sobering him a little.

Geralt squeezed it unwittingly.

"How..." he attempted, swallowed, then took a long breath to continue. "What did you do to her?"

"_Do_ to her?" Avallac'h lips curled for the briefest of moments in a sneer. "I assure you, Gwynbleidd, the girl needs no other reason than to push boundaries. Perhaps had she been better disciplined during childhood…"

"You don't dare say anything about her childhood, Avallac'h," Geralt said. His voice didn't rise, but the tone and the glare accompanying it were downright deadly. Triss's fingers twitched around his as if to spare him any possible thing he could regret later. "You have no right to say anything right now because I come back and you've lost the very one we're trying to save. It's not her failure – it's on you. You failed to make her feel safe and good enough to be by your side."

"She's probably at the druids camp," Triss said. "Nowhere else to go around here."

"Do you think I have not already searched this entire island?" the elf asked, his tone neutral again as if having remembered what was truly important. "The druids have not seen her. And my magic cannot locate her. I believe she is with the boy. The boy she continues to run to as if he is her destiny." He scoffed derisively. "The folly of youth."

A faint grimace of disbelief creased Geralt's features. "The boy? Her _destiny_? What— How can you even say that? What did she tell you? What about that damned boy? When I was leaving, she wasn't going to pursue him. I was certain of it from the way she spoke."

The folly of youth. Geralt could laugh if the situation wasn't so grave – the elf put it very on point, the Witcher had to give it to him.

Geralt rubbed his face with a hand, sighing. "I should've known… I should've taken her with me to begin with."

"She said nothing. Refused to. I have other means of finding out. She set off to Undvik in the middle of night and returned here soaked, freezing, and with torn clothes stained with her own blood." Avallac'h inspected his immaculately clean nails. "She never did feel the need to go off on her own during the years we have travelled together. Then two days with you and the sorceress…"

Geralt raised his eyes to him, once again in a deadly glare. "The sorceress and I are her only family, Sage. The closest people she has. This is why she'd never have escaped from us. You, however, are another story. Your constant attempts to push her further snapped the last of her patience, and she reacted. And now none of us even know where to look. So yes, oh great Aen Elle, you failed! Entirely."

"She couldn't have left far," Triss said. "She wouldn't use her magic, which leaves the boats? We should ask in the docks if any boats went missing or… or someone helped her. Someone must know something."

She tried to tug his arm to go, but Geralt was rooted in place, his eyes locked on the elf's in a battle of its own. He wasn't done.

"I assume you asked her what happened to her shirt and why she was bleeding. Speak."

"It would not matter. On the topic of the boy, she will not speak. Like I said, I have other methods."

Avallac'h met Geralt's glare with no intimidation at all. In fact, he was watching the Witcher as though Geralt was something unpleasant that had stuck to his shoe.

"Sirens," he added eventually. "She was attacked by sirens. And the boy put his healing hands on her. Who knows what else he did." The elf's gaze shifted to the steadily darkening sky. "She must be found before night comes. Without my protection, she is in more danger when asleep than awake. Her mind is not her own then."

Geralt felt his anger surpass the limits of allowed steaming and enter the dangerous road of seething. He sucked in a long breath, longing to squeeze his hands around the Sage's throat until his cold eyes bulged out bloodshot and panicked.

"At least some vagabond boy seems to be doing the right thing healing her wounds," the Witcher said through gritting teeth. "Since her rightful guardian no longer knows what and how to do." He turned and let Triss lead the way to the docks. "We have to find her before the night ends."

Avallac'h followed at a distance, his hands behind his back, towering over every single inhabitant of Kaer Trolde. Most of whom quickly got out of his way.

All the way through the docks Geralt was thinking how great would it have been to have failed turning Uma back into this waste of space and Ciri's time. All the purpose of those thoughts, of course, was in concealing his own guilt at leaving her behind. She wanted to come with, and Geralt had all the chances of having a constant eye on her at all times. But… Damn it. Damn the elf and his horseshit trainings.

Triss was way ahead, already charming some sailor. He was eagerly telling her something, his arms flailing to emphasize the tale. She turned to them after a few moments.

"He saw a white-haired girl boarding a small ship that was Larvik-bound. It was last night. She might still be on Hindarsfjall. I can take us to Larvik… I mean," she looked between them sheepishly, "one of you with me."

"I'll go," Geralt said. "Let's waste no more time."

Avallac'h narrowed his eyes at the thought of letting the witcher be the one to catch up with Zireael but as of now he had little choice. And he was still confident the girl, no matter how petulantly angry she was, would not go to battle with Eredin and his riders without him.

So Avallac'h simply let them go.

* * *

Ciri washed her hands in water drawn from the well, looking after Kain as he went. There was still no sign of Mousesack. Was it possible he had gone to Larvik, after all?

"Have dinner with me," she offered Kain once they met up again. "My treat this time. I told Mousesack I would go back with him if he healed you." She smiled a little. "He kept his end of the bargain."

"I'd be fine without him, too," Kain said, then shrugged. "Very well, dinner it is."

"Of course." Ciri gestured he lead the way. "Are you saying my "sacrifice" was entirely in vain?" She was teasing now. Partially, anyhow. "And that I should not have cut up my only shirt in order to staunch your bleeding?"

He threw a confused gander at her. "No, you shouldn't have. The nature would have restored me if it was needed had you left me there. I didn't go there fully believing I would die in the process. I knew there was a chance, but I like to let the powers-that-be decide. I'd be fine either way."

Ciri smiled. "I shall remember that for next time. Would the same apply had I found you unconscious, wet, and bleeding in a place that was not a sacred garden?"

"It would," he said seriously, but a faint smirk passed over his lips, nevertheless.

"Well, if the situation is ever reversed I demand bandages and to have my hair stroked until I heal."

Nature had never provided for her the same way it seemed to do him. Then again, she had never had much faith either.

"I've failed those demands twice already. But you're still alive and well."

Her lips quirked in a crooked smile. "Ah, yes, but you have magic on your side. And as everyone seems so keen to point out, I am apparently a true damsel in distress without mine."

"I saw those dead drowners, so I'm not all that inclined to agree."

"We've been separated for a long time; I think most of those I know still see me as the child they knew. Not the woman I've become." She smiled to herself, glad he did not seem to agree with them. "I fear that won't change no matter what I do."

"People that know you from the early age form a certain image of you they never let go of," he said pensively. "Unless they want to let you grow."

"I don't think they want to hold me back. Not Geralt and Yennefer, at least. The rest I am not so sure of.

"Mousesack helped raise me, you know? He was part of my grandmother's court. I suppose it is hard to see a child you used to put over your knee as an adult." She paused in thought. "Doesn't make it any less annoying."

"No, it never does. But then again, no one ever put me over a knee, so I can't know it."

"No?" She eyed him curiously. "Who raised you as a child?"

"Many people," he replied vaguely, grateful for the village gates approaching. "Druids, witchers."

"You were an orphan?" She knew he'd said he had a mother, but had thought something might have happened to her later in life.

"No, I knew my mother."

There was music playing in the village, and most of the population was drunk when they arrived. There were clusters of people laughing and cheering and playing games. The horses were relocated for the upcoming race, and some villagers crowded around them preparing the saddles and stirrups.

A tall figure detached from one of the groups and met them at the tavern. "I'm glad to see you are once again in good health, my boy," Mousesack said, his eyes going to Ciri. "Decided to race, after all? It is good to celebrate with people. Good for the soul."

Ciri was curious to know more but was not able to ask before they were interrupted.

She shook her head. "No, I'm passing on the race this time," she said. "We are here for the food mostly."

Mousesack clucked his tongue. "I shall leave you to it, then. Find me when you're ready to go, Ciri." He nodded to Kain in parting and went away. People met him with smiles and eager discussions; he was respected on all the Skellige Isles.

The druid seemed disappointed, igniting a flare of annoyance within her. Why did the men in her life always take it so personally when she did not indulge their expectations?

Kain pulled the tavern door open and held it for her before following inside.

We headed inside and she ordered their food at the counter — roasted meat and potatoes. She paid at once and took a seat at the table Kain had claimed. The tavern was a lot more crowded tonight than it had been during their previous visits.

There were a lot of customers, and they had to wait for their meal. They brought them water at once, however, which was good. Kain was thirsty.

People laughed and screamed their jokes and ordered more mead and wine, getting louder the more loaded they got. But a brawl was yet to happen. Unlike in big towns, a village could catch a break on that front.

Because of their chaotic surroundings, a conversation could not be easily overheard. Ciri leaned in a little after taking a sip of her water. "Tell me of your mother?"

Kain regarded her, frowning subtly. The instinct and habit of his whole life rejected the idea of opening up about anything too close and personal.

But she had been trying to save his secret back in the woods where they first met. He couldn't discard that, either.

"She was a druid. Her circle helped raise me. They taught me most things about how the world works. How magic works."

Ciri rested her chin in her hand, watching him. "And that is where your power comes from? Your mother's bloodline?"

He shrugged. "I never questioned where it comes from. For as long as it does, it's a part of me I never considered separate. You probably never questioned why you have two hands and feet? Magic's been as natural to me."

"Oh, I always knew why. Both my parents had two hands and two feet as well." Another jest, though she was not making light of the fact he was sharing. "Did you know your father?"

"No. Not that I ever asked, either. I never felt I was missing anything that could have been there."

Ciri nodded. If what he told her was true, and she had no reason to suspect otherwise, it sounded as though he had always been very logical and even minded. A stark contrast to her own childhood self.

"What about you? Has your grandmother managed to substitute for the parents you lost?"

"She tried her best. I certainly loved her. But I think being a queen does not leave much time for parental chores. I was mostly raised by nannies and other members of the court. Also, she tried very hard to keep me away from Geralt.

"She died when I was eleven, during the Slaughter of Cintra. Jumped to her death rather than submit to the invaders."

Kain nodded in acknowledgement; the corners of his mouth twitched in furtive amusement. "Not so easy to keep you away from people, is it. She merely didn't want you to become a mutant robbed of a normal life, is all. Geralt's been just a symbol of what she feared you'd have to be."

"I've been told I'm stubborn," she shrugged with a small smile, taking another sip of water. "Perhaps that was her reason. Of perhaps she simply did not want her only heir to relinquish the claim to the throne?"

Funny then how her father now seemed eager to put her back on that path.

"If she loved you, throne would come second after you and your needs and wishes. Being a witcher and being an heir are two vastly different things.

"You might have heard that before, but for a girl becoming a witcher is twice as hard as for boys. There were significantly less girls, but almost all of them survived the mutations. They became more vicious at killing than men more often than not. Some of the elders said it had to do with nature where many female species are more vicious and aggressive than males. Stripped of reasons for aggression – such as protecting their offspring – they threw that inner rage at whatever they had to face with a sword in hand."

"Perhaps it is a good thing then that they never attempted the mutations with me." Ciri tilted her head, watching him. "Nor you, it seems. What was the reasoning for that?"

Kain took another sip of water. "They decided that my set of skills could be developed without mutations and could still work. I couldn't do their signs, but I could do my own versions of Igni, Aard, even Axii. I could hear and see and smell better than average humans, so the need for potions witchers take for it also fell away. Perhaps they viewed me as an experiment, wanted to see what could come out of it compared to those they changed."

"I could never work their signs either," she admitted. "Do you take contracts? Paid work as a witcher?"

"Not for a long time now. I gave up the silver sword and contracts."

"You did not like it? Killing monsters for coin?"

Kain gave her a small ironic smirk. "I travel with a griffin. What do you think?"

Ciri shrugged. "You did not seem to have a problem disposing of nekkers. So you clearly do not feel the same emotional bond to all the creatures of the forest."

She cradled her cup in her hands. "I have never taken a contract. Never even paid it much mind. When Geralt first brought me to Kaer Morhen it did not even fully register they were training me to kill monsters and save people. I thought they were readying me to kill, period. That one day they would unleash me upon the world to have my vengeance on all those who had harmed me."

Kain hemmed in acknowledgement, pondering it. "Witchers and vengeance are not supposed to be put together. However, given how many Cats led their business, I can't judge. We can all be trained in the same custom and within the same rules, but in the end all that matters is a personal choice."

"Geralt set me straight. Refuse me my sword and training until I put those thoughts aside. I yielded eventually, but these days it is hard not to reclaim those feelings.

"How did you end up with The Cats? Were they on friendly terms with your druids?"

"The Cat School accepted both humans and Aen Seidhe, treating everyone on equal terms, so maybe that is how I ended up there. I was five, and all arrangements went without my consent. I went where I was needed to go."

"Yes. We do what we must," she agreed, leaning back in her seat once their food was finally served. They had made the meal look a lot more appetizing tonight, probably due to the festival.

They attacked their meals with suddenly found appetite, and for a long moment were busy solely with putting a dent in it.

People at one of the tables behind them began a song, and soon others supported the effort. Not all of them had an ear, nor voice for it.

The song was hideously performed and yet Ciri still smiled slightly in watching the people around enjoy their night. They had troubles, like everyone did, of course, and yet they managed to seem so unconcerned in these moments. Ciri envied them that.

She pushed her plate away once she'd polished off her entire meal, unbothered by the fact she ate with the appetite of a man. She always had. Even at Calanthe's court.

"Do you plan to stay here on this island for a while?" she asked once the songs died down and allowed for conversation again.

Kan washed the last bit of meat down with water and nodded. "I'll stay for now. No one's waiting for me anywhere. Time is my own."

"When was the last time you were recognized? Do you have wanted posters?" It was common in the larger cities, anyway.

"No. People who wanted me dead needed no posters. Later on the Black Ones have probably made some. I have no idea if there are any now. I don't really care to know, either."

_The Black Ones_. Emhyr. Her father, apparently.

She wondered if she should tell him. Hell, she wondered if she were to meet with the Emperor, she could use her position as his daughter to have his men stop hunting Kain.

The door opened letting in two travelers that immediately caught the majority's eye. A woman with a heap of wavy reddish hair followed by Ciri's witcher, Geralt. His eyes shot and locked on Ciri's head, then jolted Kain's way as they approached. Kain sensed his set of mind pretty clearly. Mutation did little to his emotional scale.

The white hair on the boy sitting across from Ciri astonished Geralt. Even if he was a halfbreed, it was a rare trait to come through. His face… there was something that sent a faint, unpleasant thrill down his spine. As if there was something Geralt couldn't quite place yet.

He barely opened his mouth to talk when Triss slipped forward, calling, "My sweet girl, oh how I've missed you!" She threw her hands around Ciri, peppering her cheeks with kisses. Geralt had a moment to rearrange things and dim the fear-fueled ire a bit.

Ciri immediately tensed the few seconds it took her to recognize Triss and the feeling did not exactly abate once she turned to find Geralt staring down at them with what Ciri read as mingled anger and fear.

"Triss," she said once she found her voice, slowly getting to her feet. "It is lovely to see you, too."

Her gaze drifted from Kain to Geralt, and stayed on the Witcher.

"Mission complete?"

Kain got up from his seat, as well, and brushed past the two newcomers and Ciri. "I'll go join the druid," he said to Ciri, squeezing her shoulder gently as he passed by in a gesture of mute support that he couldn't for the life of him explain or justify.

He felt the urge to cast a parting glance at her before he exited, but forced himself to just go outside and head to where he said he would go.

Ciri did not like Kain leaving but completely understood why he did. None of this was his problem. "Be safe," she said, a phrase that seemed to be the standard whenever they parted.

Geralt stepped aside to let the boy pass; it didn't escape Geralt's attention how his hand slipped off Ciri's shoulder when he walked away and to the door. There was a kind of closeness already. It was alarming the Witcher more than he could understand the reasoning for. It made him shiver inside.

"Gods, my darling, how are you?" Triss cooed, immediately settling in the boy's abandoned chair and gazing at Ciri with sparkling eyes filled with joy and enthusiasm. "Thank Gods you're all right! We were so scared to not have found you, and Avallac'h… He's very upset and rather scared himself, I would dare say." She giggled quietly as if Ciri had pulled the best joke of the year.  
"How could you have run off like that, Ciri?" Geralt asked in a quiet metal tone. "Why would you do it?"

Ciri turned to look at Triss as she spoke. She was clearly in a better mood than Geralt. It was him Ciri felt a need to address first.

"Run off like what?" she asked calmly, not loving all the attention currently on their little group. "Like a woman in charge of where she goes and who she spends her time with? Is that such an outrageous thing?"

A very strange and dismaying thing happened in his mind when she said that. Geralt suddenly wished he had Avallac'h standing next to him so the elf could start his usual horseshit lecture filled with reasoning and urging and take her blame for it all instead of the Witcher. Geralt wasn't sure he could shoulder any more of her disappointment in how he handled things where she was concerned.

He heaved a sigh and attempted to soften his expression. It wasn't going all so well. He felt like an overly strained string of Dandelion's lute that was about to snap and hurt somebody. Somebody he loved more than anything in his life.

"Had it been any other moment – I'm entirely on your side. But right now – given things that are coming and things that keep you in constant danger – no, Ciri, you couldn't decide entirely freely for yourself. You don't even know that guy, and you seem to trust him more than people who have been with you for years. Why?"

"Geralt," she said with as much patience as she could because surely he already knew this. "Those dangerous moments are all I have. There is nothing else. Hasn't been for a very long time. If I want to live, this is the time to do it."

Triss was blissfully silent, allowing her to continue.

"Who said I trust him more than any of you? I don't. But I enjoy his company, getting to know someone my own age, someone whose life has similarities to my own."

Triss and Geralt exchanged quick surprised glances.

"What similarities?" he asked.

"Well, we're both hunted for, one. Living in hiding. Running." Information she was only willing to point out because she knew Mousesack had already told him. "But even if it was not for him, I still would have left."

"Where to?" he asked with a hint of helpless annoyance. "I understand your motivations when it comes to Avallac'h – he can crack the sky with his shenanigans. But Mousesack – why wouldn't you stay at least with him? He raised you!"

"And he still sees me as the five-year old I was back then," she pointed out with a sigh. "I did not come here for K–...for the half-elf. I did not even know he was on this island. I came for Skjall."

She watched Geralt, wondering if he recognized the name.

Geralt frowned, not immediately catching up who she meant. "Another friend of yours?"

Triss was smirking as if privy to a secret.

"Freyja's garden?" Ciri hinted, hoping he'd catch up. "The man who helped me escape The Hunt here in Skellige?"

Recognition dawned on him; his face darkened slightly. "I see. He died shortly after you were gone. I'm sorry about that. I owed him a debt I could never repay."

"I know. I buried him not two hours ago." She tucked her hair behind her ear, hoping to turn the conversation away from Kain and her and onto other topics. "What happened in Novigrad?"

"Nothing big," Triss put in, and smiled at Ciri, still feasting her eyes on the girl, listing all the changes, no doubt. "Geralt visited some possibly allies. Some turned out more ready to help than others… but it's nothing we haven't expected."

"I've been to your father's palace today," Geralt said. "He wanted me to bring you to him, stated he could protect you. I reasoned that the Wild Hunt would not look good strutting through his domain, and he offered some soldiers under his general's command. I couldn't agree to it. They wouldn't know what to do. They'd all be dead before anything truly started. I saw no point, nor possibility for us to use people as cannon meat.

"He was not pleased and still demands to have you returned to his care."

Ciri's head snapped from Triss to Geralt at the mention of her father, heart sinking. "I'm not going to Vizima," she said immediately in case that was not clear. "He had his chance at caring for me and squandered it by faking his own death so he could ascend to the throne. I do not need him. I already have a father."

A statement that was cemented with a firm look at Geralt.

Geralt made himself smile. "As much as it warms my heart, Ciri, you might want to give it a bit of further thought whether or not to just see him and tell it to his face. But only after the major problem has been dealt with. Not before. I believe he realizes it now as clearly as we all do."

"Don't worry, my sweet, we would never make you do anything you don't want to," Triss said in her tender tone, reaching over the table to squeeze Ciri's hand. "You will be your own mistress as soon as we rid you of that deadly shadow on your trail."

"Mousesack said you promised to go with him tonight. We could all go and spend a night at their camp and depart for the keep at first light."

"You remember this is the man who wanted to put his baby in me?" Ciri asked, shuddering at the thought. "I doubt he cares very much what I think, or what is best for me."

As for Triss' promises, Ciri knew they were not true. After the Hunt, there would be The Frost, and then… something else would crop up. She simply knew it.

Still, Ciri squeezed her hand in return for the least she could do was make the sorceress worry less.

"If this is my last night before the battle," Ciri said, and tried to keep her voice soft because she did not want Geralt to think her decision had anything to do with not wanting to be with him. "I would like to spend it with… _him_. It is unlikely we will get to see each other again. And there are things I need to say, things I need him to know before we part."

With the bouquet of things that invaded his mind and began wrecking havoc there, Geralt meekly hoped his face remained on a decent level of calm when he spoke.

"Ciri, are you two... How close have you gotten?"

Triss smiled a little, but she still looked flabbergasted and curious.

Ciri averted her gaze the moment he asked, cheeks flushing pink. It did not feel natural discussing these things, the things he was insinuating, with Geralt. Or anyone else, for that matter. Even Yen and Triss.

She folded her arms across her chest and forced herself to look at him again, face burning. "We… We're friendly. We talk. We've shared a few meals."

It wasn't the firm enough answer he was looking for. But it felt like she could burst into a fit if he was to dig further.

"How much does he know about you?"

"Not everything, but a lot," she admitted.

Geralt tensed. "I would like specifics. And also your reason to let him in on what we can't afford any outsiders to know."

When he tensed, so did Ciri. As if bracing herself for an oncoming fight. "He knows who I am. I did not tell him. He put it together himself. And you know what?" she shrugged. "He doesn't care. He doesn't care who I am, or what I am capable of. And quite honestly, it's a damned relief."

Geralt winced in disbelief. "If he says he doesn't care, it doesn't mean it's true. And how on earth could he have put anything together without your help? Is he a sorcerer? A seer? And what of his friend? You told me he had a friend he was protecting."

"He never said it. The proof is in his actions." And she firmly believed it. "Who he is, is of no matter. Nor his friend. I know you all find it hard to believe I can keep myself alive without the help of my elders; that I am naive and too trusting; selfish." It was what Avallac'h had insinuated and she feared Geralt felt the same. Because no matter how hard he'd been trying this past week, Ciri was certain he still saw the girl he had brought back from the Brokilon forest. And she did not know how she could change that. "So let me remind you: before we found each other again, before Avallac'h, I was entirely alone. For years. And the most awful things happened to me during that time. Things I will never–"

She quieted herself, forcing the angry tears to recede.

"But I survived. I am not as fragile and helpless as you all think I am. I do not trust easily." Ciri pointed at the door Kain had exited a few minutes earlier. "He is the exception. You are right, I do not know him well. But that does not matter. I am drawn to him for a reason. I may not know that reason yet, but I am putting my faith in it. Because it is the same feeling I had when I first saw you. I knew you and I were meant to be together. And there is something similar about him that makes me feel…"

She inhaled and exhaled deeply, unable to find the words to describe it. Ciri was not sure there were any.

She closed the space between Geralt and herself and took his clean-shaven face in her hands, making sure he looked at her. "I love you. Always. And I miss you. Always. But this is something I have to do. For myself. One night, that is all I demand."

Geralt's heart shrunk in deep-rooted sorrow of how much he had missed and how much was there she might never let him know. How much else would she gather along the way and never even try to share because she had lost the habit of opening up to him? How could he ever go back to that place where they didn't keep secrets and knew that there was always an understanding between them that couldn't be broken? Where would he even begin fixing everything that was broken when so many things were?

Geralt took in a breath and let it out, a bit shakily. His throat felt blocked; there was a lump that made it hard to breathe. He could only give a curt nod. He couldn't voice letting her go, for it felt as if he was losing her. Again.

_Again_.

His sadness did not go amiss and all at once there was a lump of guilt deep in her stomach. And the difficulty was Ciri did not know why he was so sad, what she had done to put that look on his face. Was it the grieving of a parent who finally needed to accept their child was growing up? Or something more?

He did not make the initiative this time, so she did. She hugged him to her, standing on the tips of her boots in order to fully wrap her arms around his frame, her cheek resting against his. "I will come find you early tomorrow at Mousesack's camp.

"I love you," she reminded him again before she released him, slowly parting before heading out the door.

Geralt didn't say anything – there was nothing else he could say or felt he could utter, for that matter, as he reciprocated her embrace, feeling the lump grow some more.

He didn't turn to watch her go away. He could not. He didn't feel he could do anything for her while she seemed to be consciously widening the gap between them.

_We all have failed her. _

I_ have failed her._

And now there was that renegade half-blood doing gods knew what to her mind…

_Or body._ Of course it was Avallac'h's voice adding his bit of poison to his head.

Geralt lowered heavily onto the chair she had vacated and put his face in his hands. The chaos of laughing and singing bothered him no longer while there was a buzz of chaos going on inside his head all by itself. He wished Yennefer was with him now. He didn't know why, but the wish was so strong he could have screamed her name.

But it was Triss's hand that found his forearm to squeeze. "She'll be fine, Geralt. We're here, and Mousesack is. This boy hasn't hurt her, and she will be with us again tomorrow. We should go back to the camp and get some rest."

"Yennefer should get here to see her in the morning," he said, lowering his hands on the table, peering at her.

Her smile died out rapidly, there was hurt in her eyes.

_I've hurt another friend. Seems it's all I can do these days._

"If you hope she'd change Ciri's mind about—"

"Even if she could, it's too late to find out," Geralt said tiredly. "But she might be the one Ciri could actually… feel less defensive with. Now that you and I achieved nothing on that front.

"I don't mean it to offend you, Triss. You're a part of Ciri's circle, as rightfully as any of us. But I want to try everything I possibly can before anything goes wrong before or during the battle."

"I understand," she said quietly, withdrawing her hand. "As you wish. But let me bring us to the camp first. Come."

They got up and went for the exit.


	10. Chapter 10

The Elf stood, much like he had for the past hour, entirely still on a cliff overlooking the ocean below. His long blond hair was swept up by the breeze that suddenly arose, the air around him crackling with electricity signaling a portal was about to open.

Finally, he thought. He had never had much trouble with time, never been in a hurry. Aen Elle had forever, after all. But this last hour, this last day, had been absolute torment.

Geralt didn't want to talk when they arrived, but the tall silhouette of the elven Sage was approaching as soon as the Witcher gained the balance. Triss stayed beside him as if to support. It occurred to Geralt she didn't want to leave and was trying to postpone the moment. He went for a fallen log and settled on it, rubbing his face. He felt exhausted – strangely, emotionally exhausted.

Avallac'h approached the two travelers and after a moment's silence spread his arms wide, one brow raised in inquiry. "Where is Zireael?"

"In Larvik," he said simply, not taking his hands off his face. "Promised to come back here in the early morning."

"Ah," the elf said softly. "Promised, did she? Must be true then. We have no reason to doubt her word."

"I'm not in the mood for sarcasm exercises, Avallac'h," Geralt said. "She gave me her word. She's never broken a word given to me. That won't change now." He lowered his hands to his lap and looked up at the Sage slowly. Geralt's face expressed nothing like a blank canvas. "Are you satisfied?"

"I will be satisfied once the little Swallow is back at my side." Avallac'h's face darkened. "She is with _him_? How predictable. She always did have a… hunger for elves."

Triss blinked, unsure how to react, and turned to assess Geralt with a wary face. The Witcher rose slowly from the bench and stood in front of Avallac'h boring into his cold eyes.

"Go, Triss," he said, not taking his eyes off the elf. "Thank you for your help, I couldn't have done without you."

There was nothing of the warmth in his voice that could normally be there, but she knew why. She wanted to say something, but thought better of it and nodded, stepping back more and more, until she turned away and opened a portal to disappear into.

"Do I wait for your elaboration, or do I beat it out of you? I can do both." Right now, Geralt meant it fully.

Avallac'h smiled. It was not a nice smile. He preferred to save those for Zireael.

"She is of our blood. Aen Elle. The daughter of Lara Dorren. It is no surprise she favors our kind over dh'oine. It is only natural. Her genetic makeup, one could say."

Geralt gave a sudden nasty sneer of his own. "He's not an elf. He looks nothing like you. A human with fair hair and very human ears, at that. I don't think you're as aware of her preferences as you claim to be."

He shrugged, unconcerned. "You think the ears make the elf? Physical appearance means so little, Gwynbleidd. Blood matters more. Whether he is of Aen Elle or of our cousins, Aen Seidhe, he is still an elf."

Avallac'h fell silent a moment, then regarded the witcher with disappointment. "You should have brought her back. Kicking and screaming, if necessary. Now night has fallen and so Zireael will succumb to sleep. And who visits her then? Surely she has told you?"

Geralt had to make an effort to stand still and not throw a punch. Through gritted teeth, he said: "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

His lips twisted in a satisfied smile, pleased the girl had not confided in the Witcher. Perhaps they were not as close as the mutant thought?

"Eredin, of course. He enters her dreams at night. Or more accurately nightmares. I have not gotten a detailed look of what happens there but I have watched over her while she sleeps enough to know his aim. Eredin was always charming. Always manipulative. And our Zireael took an instant liking to him back in Tir Na Lia. Her body, how do you say, warmed to him.

"Every night I have been by her side, he seduces her. Even when we travelled to worlds where he could not follow. It mattered not. He was there, in her mind. Whispering. Coaxing. And more than once did she use her powers in her sleep. I had to subdue her so he would not catch on to our trail.

"While she is with me, I can keep her from leaping through space and into his waiting embrace. While she is with me, I can keep her safe. But now she is alone, with only the half-breed to help her. If that is even his true intentions. Mark my words, Gwynbleidd, as long as she is out there, she is in grave danger."

Geralt was afraid he was beginning to shake with all the helpless ire and disdain filling him steadily like pouring mead filled a tankard. It was hard to come up with any sounds to begin to answer that. He cringed at the idea of all the impossible, filthy intentions roaming those Aen Elle's heads concerning Ciri, but this was not the time, he reminded himself, to start a murder spree with the one before him.

He swallowed. "She seemed to have been doing quite all right thus far without your ever-waking watch, Avallac'h. Perhaps she needs no more of your intrusive presence she stands so little of she had to flee across the sea."

"It is the Elder Blood," Avallac'h said, once more unconcerned by Geralt's wishes the girl should only rely on him. "It is fiery and explosive. Defiant. She bristles when faced with the consequences of her actions. She is much like Lara Dorren in that way. But do not fool yourself – she needs me. As do you if you hope to defeat Eredin and his riders. In fact, you need all the help you can get."

He paused, brushing his flawless hair off one shoulder. "Were you successful in gathering allies?"

Geralt glowered at him, muscles bulging on his cheeks. "My friends will come and help us. Not many, but it's what you say – we need every single one we can count on. They will be there."

"Good," the elf said, absentmindedly moving for the cliff again. "Then, we wait."

* * *

"You threw Keira out of a window!" Triss yelled, eyes bulging, face red as she appeared in Yennefer's chambers, her hands defiantly fixed to her narrow hips.

Yennefer hadn't been able to sleep properly, merely resting, lying with a pillow tucked under her head, eyes closed for the sake of giving it her best effort. She knew she'd been wrong, that she overreacted, but she couldn't bring herself to be sorry about what she'd done to Keira or Lambert, and if Triss wasn't careful she'd be joining her mouthy friend.

"Where's Geralt?"

Triss's mouth snapped shut and for a time she looked like a fish out of water.

"The druid's camp in Ard Skellig."

Yennefer sat up abruptly, worried suddenly that something had happened to him – that something was the matter with Ciri.

"And Ciri?"

"That's why I'm here," she said, speaking tight-lipped. Triss motioned with her hand and every candle in the room ignited, doing away with the darkness. "You've replaced my bed."

A pointless observation.

"Threw it out the window and into the mist where it belongs," Yennefer corrected, narrowing her eyes, daring Triss to push her to another point as she was longing for a round two.

Yennefer could see in Triss's eyes that her anger at the situation with Keira had temporarily overridden any kind of culpability she might have expressed, even if it was hollow.

"Unless you'd like to join it, I'd rather you get to the point."

"What'd Keira do to deserve your ire?"

Yennefer pushed aside the covers and slipped out from beneath them. "She didn't know how to mind her own business."

"So you threw her out of the ground floor window? She broke her ankle! She has a cut above her eye."

None of the wounds listed moved Yennefer even a little. She helped herself to what remained of the mead.

"We're all gathered here to help Ciri and now you've gone and caused a conflict."

"I'm sure it's not the first time her tongue has got her into trouble."

"You broke her leg."

Yennefer set aside her mug, swiping at her lips. "Get to the point, Triss. What unfinished business did you have with Geralt that merited her coming in your place? And why isn't he with you? Where's Ciri?"

"That's why I'm here," she said, and Yennefer could tell it was the only reason she'd even considered leaving Geralt's side. Yennefer could see it on both her face and in her posture. "Ciri's fine, physically anyway, but there's this boy—"

Yennefer strode toward her clothes, plucking them off the chair, waving a hand that carefully materialized them to her frame, and then stepped into her books.

"Say no more. Where am I supposed to meet him?"

Triss looked forlorn and Yennefer could tell she wanted to argue more about what Yennefer had done, the fact that she'd reacted so wildly, but Yen wasn't here for it and nor was she going to let Triss push her into a corner.

"Druids camp."

"Feel free to make use of my bed tonight," Yennefer said, gesturing to it in its unmade mattress, the other hand raising to the air, recalling the golden shift of light that carried her from place to place.

And then, she left.

* * *

Avallac'h stood unmoving for a long time, ignoring whatever activity happened behind him at the druid's camp, and the witcher who was glaring daggers at his back. When another rush of energy alerted the elf to a new arrival, however, he turned his head. "Your sorceress is coming."

"Where is she?" Yennefer asked, easily having managed to hook onto Geralt's energy and to locate him, her gaze fixating on the Elf rigidly stood nearby.

Geralt heaved a sigh. "She's not here, Yennefer. Not here."

Avallac'h did not even deign to turn and face them both. His hands casually clasped behind his back, he spoke towards the ocean and allowed the wind to carry his voice back to them both. "She is in Larvik. With a half-breed elf she refuses to leave behind. You could go there, try and talk some sense into her. Perhaps you would have better luck than your Witcher."

Geralt's energy concerned Yennefer greatly. She speared a heated look at the back of Avallach's head, unconcerned with his manners or lack thereof, thankful at least that he'd explained.

"Does he have her under some kind of spell? Is she safe? Who is he?" Questions she directly solely at Geralt.

Geralt pressed his lips together for a long moment while he tried to squelch all the things wanting to be spilt addressing the Sage. When the urge dimmed, he gave Yennefer a tired look.

"He's that boy she met here in the woods. Apparently, they met by accident once again when she fled from under Avallac'h's supervision and stayed on Hindersfjall. She says she trusts that boy. She asked to stay there for one final night, promised to come here in the morning."

Her expression hardened, shifting to Avallac'h, wanting him to explain why Ciri would have run from him in the first place when they'd been this dynamic team for so many years.

Was it as Yennefer thought: had Ciri stayed with him purely because she had no other options?

"She wants to stay with him to do what, precisely? Does she… does she have designs on the boy? You're going to have to clear things up for me a little, Geralt, we're at war here and as entertaining as a sleep over can be with the opposite sex, we're not at a point where it should be an option. She knows that."

Geralt spread his arms. "What do you want me to say? She knows what you know, but she insisted on spending that night on the island with him. She didn't elaborate on what precisely she will be doing."

Yennefer had no idea what to say to that. She only had one concern. "Is he a danger to her you think? Did you meet the boy?"

"Only briefly – he made a quick escape when we came in. I have no idea whether he's dangerous for her. But he's dangerous in his own right, given his Brokilon past. And as fleetingly as I saw his face, it seemed oddly familiar, but I'm sure I couldn't have met him anywhere."

Yennefer had no idea what to do with the information they'd given her.

Every cell of her body said that she should go over there, snatch Ciri away, and bring her back, but another—the part of her that felt they'd never had to deal with this kind of revolt from Ciri in regard to anyone but them—made Yennefer want this for her, to realize that it was possibly just a bit of adolescent rebellion and freedom.

"What do you want me to do? You've spoken to her, measured of the situation, if I go over there, demand she come with us now and start a pre-battle with the boy, how bad is it going to be?"

Geralt slowly shook his head. "I don't think you can change anything for the best if you go there. She begged me to let her stay. I couldn't rob her of what she said she really needed to do for herself before her life could end."

He spread his arms in mute what-are-you-going-to-do and went toward the hill to see if he could lie down on the grass and try to doze off.

Then Yennefer wasn't even going to try.

He wouldn't have left Ciri there if he thought for a second that the boy was going to do some terrible harm to her.

That, however, didn't diminish the fact that Geralt appeared to have a lot on his mind.

Yennefer cast a glance at Avallac'h's back, and followed Geralt over to his designated patch of grass. She eased onto the ground and lay down beside him.

"You want to talk?"

Geralt closed his eyes. "No. I don't think I can… right now. For now, I just wish to forget… for at least a very short time we have left."

Yennefer positioned his arm beneath her head, curling up against his side, an arm resting on his chest, hand coming to rest on the side of his face, stroking his jaw lightly, mutely encouraging that he sleep.

She knew she wouldn't.

It hadn't escaped her that despite the fact that he knew absolutely nothing about her, that she wasn't part of his life, anymore, or in the way that she'd wanted, he'd sent Triss to retrieve her. She hadn't told Yennefer in so many words but Yennefer knew. And for what? To drag Ciri back by her hair? To comfort him? To provide Geralt with a shoulder? Triss could and would have willingly done all that for him, and more.

When his breathing evened out, a small smile touched her mouth and a hint of peace that had been disrupted earlier at Kaer Morhen finally seemed to bow back in.

* * *

Ciri did not find Mousesack or Kain outside. She doubted the latter would have remained amongst the throng of people celebrating the Goddess with songs and drink, and therefore went in the direction of the cave.

Even though she had been there before it was hard to find in the dark. The moon allowed her just enough light to reach her destination, however, without tripping over roots and shrubbery.

She entered the cave cautiously, not wishing to startle the griffin and have him bite her head off. He was lying in the same spot he had occupied the night before, cleaning his feathers and watching her with shrewd eyes. He did not seem threatened by her appearance, though.

Kain was nowhere to be seen, but she assumed he had just been here or would return shortly judging by the fire still burning brightly.

She shook out of her cloak and sat down, warming her hands and feeding a few pieces of wood to the crackling fire.

Kain didn't bother with the jacket's clasps once again, merely hurrying to the cave so he could warm up after the cold bath, his wet and wrung out shirt in one hand and the sword in its scabbard in another.

He froze in his tracks for a moment when he saw the girl sitting at the campfire when he entered.

"Don't tell me you came all this way just because the goodbye at the tavern was not sufficient to your liking."

He lay the sword down at the satchel and spread the shirt to dry on the rock he'd used the night before. TheCat medallion was freezing against his wet chest, but he saw no reason to take it off. She had seen it, along with too many other things.

"Absolutely," she said, with a hint of teasing. Though, in truth, there was some honesty there, as well. "Tomorrow I will face The Wild Hunt. I hope and believe I will come out of it alive and in one piece, but one can never truly know. And so I wanted to tell you, thank you, not for your help that I have thanked you for before. But for the experience.

"It has been a long time since I met someone new who did not try to harm me. I was starting to believe there was no hope of that ever again. Making friends." She glanced at him with a slight smirk. "As much a friend one can make in a few days, anyway."

Kain settled against the griffin's side and reflected on her words a moment, then nodded. "It's a rather touching speech, I surely admit that. It's been years since I've let anyone live and with two legs as close to me. And to be honest, I don't know why I did now. I just did."

"The reason doesn't matter," she said with a small shrug, smiling. "What does is that it happened."

She shifted a little where she sat before observing him again.

"I told my people I would meet them tomorrow, when we are ready to set off. Do you mind me staying here for the night?"

A fleeting smile fluttered over Kain's mouth. "I'm two days late to mind that, am I not."

His smile, however faint, sent a thrill of excitement through her. "Of course not. I bring trouble and dramatics to your life," I said with a small smile of my own. "If you wanted no part of it, I would completely understand."

Kain looked at the fire for a bit, contemplating.

"I rarely question things that happen to or around me," he said eventually in a quiet pensive tone, "because I came to learn that everything happens for a reason, be it obvious or unknown to me. Fighting or resisting things that happen like that is about as useful as trying to make the sea tide stop."

Ciri questioned things always and supposed it was part of her curious nature.

She lay down on her fur cloak and propped her head up with her hand and elbow. "When I told him I wanted to spend the night here, Geralt looked as though I had slapped him. And then kicked him repeatedly in his… manly bits." She frowned. "And yet he spent the last two days away from me, even though I asked to come."

Hiding a faintly amused simper at her choice of terms, Kain gave a lazy shrug. "He's worried, angry, scared, which is a nasty combination for a human, but even more so for a witcher. His emotions feel too strong for someone who's actually been through the mutation. He might not be fully aware of how to deal with them. It's not in a witcher's habits to explode and throw fits, and suppressing everything one is not supposed to be feeling at all is a hellish job, like fighting wildfire with your bare hands."

"I suppose so. I have some… anger issues myself, or so I've been told."

"You're not bound by any mutations," he pointed out unnecessarily. "And Elder Blood is just a gene with some attributes. It's not a rabid trait, nothing that adds to your temper. You'd be the same way you are even with solely human blood. Anger is tricky to learn to tame. It takes years of constant efforts, much like with taming one's mind and teaching it to go where and when you want it to."

"That is not what the Aen Elle thinks," she murmured, laying down and resting her head atop her folded hands. "But I am still practicing. Avallac'h is making me meditate. I am not a fan."

An unwitting chuckle escaped him. "Not everybody is. But each seems to eventually find their own way to achieve the needed goal, which is usually levels of concentration. I wasn't fond of sitting still doing nothing, either. But druids don't take that for a serious excuse."

"It's hard to imagine you as a child," she confessed, watching him with something close to affection for a moment. "You appear as though you have always been an adult."

Another amused sneer creased his mouth momentarily. "I had my moments. But mostly those who raised me have been treating me as their equal, at least trying to. They explained things as they would to an adult and expected me to behave accordingly. Let's just say, you don't always feel like throwing tantrums when you realize the reason behind some things you have to do despite hating it or being bored."

"Perhaps if I had the same experience my grandmother would have needed to spank me less," she smirked. "Were there other children where you grew up? Did you get to play?"

"Yes, there were, and we did. Not that I remember much of it now. All games stopped after I was five. I was sent to the Cat School."

_That's sad_, she thought but did not say that out loud. He seemed fine with his past and present. Who was she to make him feel otherwise. "There were no other witchers in training at the same time as you?"

"There were many, boys and girls. The Cat School accepted both."

"I was the only child at The Wolf School," Ciri smiled at the memories. "And they were all men. Not too knowledgeable on the little nuances of how to raise a girl rather than a boy."

Kain cracked open an eye, concealing his amusement. "There are nuances? Like the obligatory stroking of their hair when one of her opponent whacked them over the back with a wooden training sword?"

"More like how to adjust combat techniques for someone growing breasts and to be aware of a certain week each month that her body is an aching, hormonal mess," she smirked, straightening the flap of her cloak beneath her to get more comfortable. "Strange how tongue-tied a group of rough burly men become when feminine issues are brought up."

"That's because you haven't gone through mutations. That solves the monthly problems for girls according to their own account. As for the body structure and built – I don't recall a single girl at the school who's ever had any issues or complaints about that, either. If anything, it was beneficial for them to have nothing fragile between their legs when it came to sparring sessions."

"Not fragile but highly sensitive," she smiled into her cloak, closing her eyes. "Did they all make it through the mutation process? The children you trained with?"

"Almost all the girls did, except three or four. Boys didn't fare as well – five or six out of ten died."

"Did that scare you? When you were still young enough not to know if they would try the mutations on you as well?"

"I knew from early on that I wouldn't be going through that. I had been warned countless times that I had to work twice as hard to compensate for it. I never found much to compensate for, however. Except for healing all the bruises - it was a great practice to get better at what I'd been taught before."

"You are extraordinary," she murmured with a smile, half-asleep already. "Beautiful. And powerful. In charge of your own fate. I hope… I hope I will still be alive come night tomorrow. And that I can start to live… more like you…"

Kain opened his eyes to look at her. He didn't think of himself like that, nor that he could seem like it to anyone else.

Other than _Her_… that green-clad beauty with fierce eyes…

He sighed quietly and let his eyes close again. Her face flickered in the mist of his inner eye while he drifted off to sleep.

_Don't move… Don't move…_

* * *

Eredin's found her, like he always did. They are in a corridor in the palace at Tir Na Lia, surrounded by exquisite art and marble floors and walls. There are doors, blue doors, on either side, the hallway stretching as far as the eye could see.

"This is different," she remarks. "New. I have never dreamed of this place before."

"Who says this is your dream?" Eredin asks smoothly, eyeing a painting of a beautiful eleven woman on one of the walls. "Your ancestor. Lara Dorren. Avallac's betrothed."

He turns to look at her, curiosity gleaming in his green eyes. "And you still trust him? The man who forced you to bed our King? I told you, even back then, Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha is a liar. He was never going to let you go, luned. Not even if you gave him what he wanted. Lose the closest replica he would ever come to his beloved Lara? Never."

Ciri should not be here. She knows that much. She should not allow him access to her mind. She needs to wake up. She needs to escape.

She moves down the corridor and begins opening doors, searching for a way out. But every door she opens only reveals a pile of corpses.

"Nor would you, though you made the same promises," she tells the elf. No matter how far she moves down the corridor he is still right beside her. "You tried to hinder my escape as well, with a very sharp sword, if I remember correctly: 'I won't kill you. But a few weeks in bed, in bandages, will certainly do you good.' That is what you said."

She opens another door and screams. It is Geralt. And Yennefer. Dandelion, Zoltan, Hjalmar, Triss, Vessemir, Eskel, Lambert… All in bloodied, mutilated pieces.

_Oh, Gods no..._

Eredin moves up behind her, wraps his arms around her waist, and rests his chin atop her head, staring at the horrific scene in front of them with nothing but serenity.

"That was then. This is now. Though I promise you, Zireael, once you join me you will not wish for anything else. We will go wherever, whenever, fighting, riding, feasting… Everything you have desired for so long."

It takes her a moment to find her voice again. When she speaks, it sounds hoarse and raspy.

"And my family and friends would be dead. As would everyone else."

"Not necessarily. We will need slaves."

She inhales sharply, her body trembling beyond her control. "Fuck you."

Eredin smiles like the predator she knows him to be. "Come to me, Zireael, and I will not hesitate."

* * *

Kain was on his feet, rubbing his eyes to open, before he knew what was going on.

_A scream. _

He woke up to a scream.

He kneeled next to the girl whose face creased anxiously in the meek light of the dying campfire. She winced and muttered under her breath.

The griffin croaked behind him, staring in alarm, his scruff bristled.

"Ciri?" He shook her shoulder, tapped her cheek with his hand. "Wake up. You hear me? Wake up, princess, wake up, come on."

* * *

Ciri shakes free of Eredin's hold, frantically moving further down the hall, ripping open door after door only to find the same heart-wrenching result she's seen earlier.

"Where are you going, me elaine luned?" Eredin asks, lazily trailing her with no urgency at all. And yet, he manages to always stay just a few paces behind. "Why do you deny yourself the freedom and happiness you crave? The freedom and happiness I offer you?"

She laughs. It is a humorless, defeated laugh. "You offer no such thing. You offer me a life in chains, a life where my loved ones are suffering or dead."

"That is what The Fox and your little friends will tell you. That does not mean it is the truth. They tell you to control yourself. To remain calm. To hide while they fight your battles. They think you weak and frail, Zireael. But I know you are anything but. You have not even begun to discover the power within you and the things you can accomplish. I would never want to suppress those talents. I want you to use them freely. I want you to be yourself."

Lies. Pretty lies.

Eredin captures her chin with his long, cold fingers and forces her to meet his gaze. "I am not lying. I give you my word."

Doubting someone's word is a serious insult to the Aen Elle.

"Ciri?"

A new voice from behind her. Kain. She whirls around to find him, her beautiful Archer, standing in the corridor, his face pinched with concern.

"Wake up. You hear me? Wake up, princess, wake up, come on."

He is right. She must wake up.

But it is too late. Her gaze drifts from Kain to Eredin, the latter who is watching the newcomer with a shrewd and calculating gaze. His full lips split in a shark-like grin, evil glinting in those green eyes.

No, no, no… He has seen him... Eredin knows...

Terrified, she throws herself in Kain's direction, her fingers locking around his wrist. And in a flash of green they are gone.

* * *

Kain couldn't see it coming this time, and therefore couldn't prevent it.

She wasn't waking up, more fear saturating her aura, her face; and then suddenly her hand clasped around his wrist like vice, and everything turned glowing green.

Cold, piercing cold stung his chest and face, his fingers felt like he dipped them in icy water. The wind whipped their hair around their faces, howling hollowly among the tall columns around them.

He gaped, unable to believe it. But the cold was real. Her hand slipped off his, and he pulled his jacket closed for warmth, clasped the buckles quickly with freezing fingers, still looking around, still finding it hard to believe.

It was the Tower on Undvik. She took them to the Tower.

Ciri gasped awake and found herself lying on a cold stone floor. She pushed herself onto her elbows and found Kain, wandering around her with wide eyes and a pale face. They were no longer in the cave.

It did not take her long to understand what had happened. Fear stabbed at her heart like a dagger and she hurriedly scrambled to her feet, some part of her unwilling to believe she had just teleported them here.

"No, no, no..." Ciri whispered, despair evident in her voice.

He would find her now. Eredin would find her. And worse, she had condemned Kain to a fate similar to her own, one where he would have to run, not just from his human pursuers but a bloodthirsty army of Aen Elle.

"I am so sorry." She was whispering still, as if struggling to find her voice. "I've killed you."

She was trembling but not from cold. Loose rocks that had crumbled from the tower over the centuries it had stood here, shot across the space between them, shattering against the walls. She inhaled sharply, trying to calm the telltale buzzing in her ears, the vibration that made her skin hum like electricity. She needed to calm down. She needed Avallac'h. She needed Geralt.

From what Kain saw the other night, that electric energy soaking the air around her before he woke her up - it was the same reaction to something that frightened her greatly in the dream.

Only this time he didn't succeed in stopping her. And she jumped—

He snapped his eyes back to her, feeling the hair on his arms and the nape of his neck bristling again. That power of hers was stirring.

In three steps he was before her, holding her face in his hands, their eyes locked.

"Listen to me, you need to calm down now. It's all right. We're alive. You didn't drop us in the sea or off a cliff somewhere. You hear me? It's fine. Breathe. Deep. Breathe. You're all right."

Ciri nodded once as much as his hold on her would allow, eyes fixed firmly on his as she inhaled and exhaled in trembling, but calming breaths. Her hands rose to rest on his wrists, finding the skin-to-skin contact to be grounding, keeping her in place, stilling her racing heart.

What was this magical hold he had on her? What was it about him that dimmed her fear and brought courage and determination?

"We have to get out of here," she said once she managed to speak in coherent sentences. "We need to find Geralt and Avallac'h. Soon enough, The Hunt will know where we are."

When he felt her buzzing energy subside, he let her go and cast a glace around.

"It'll take us a while to get to the shore on foot, and then... there might be no boats. It's Undvik. We're stuck here."

"We'll have to jump again," she said, moving to the very edge of the tower as if her meaning had been quite literal. She could not see Kaer Trolde from here. The islands were too far apart. But she knew Geralt was there. He had said he would be. And Avallac'h, too. "Chances are they will find us quicker then, but there is no other choice. Stuck here, you'll be dead and I'll be…"

What would she be, exactly? A slave? A prisoner? A woman condemned to death as soon as she did what Eredin needed her to do?

"Well, it's cold, but I don't feel dead yet," he approached the edge and surveyed the landscape beneath the half-moon.

He drew a deep breath, trying to relax despite the biting cold wind, and closed his eyes, sending his mind to travel across the sea.

_He_ was anxious and antsy, Kain felt it and smiled a little without noticing. _He_ sensed the pull; _he_ knew where to go now.

Ciri watched him a moment and without asking knew what he was doing. There was only one explanation. Unless he could summon portals as well and had decided not to share that information with her.

Kain blinked and looked at Ciri in the passing as he walked away from the precipice.

"We'll have to wait here. Come, it's colder where you stand open to the wind."

She hesitated a moment before she trailed after him. The cold did not bother her. She was already numb with the realization of what she had done and the price that would now needed to be paid.

"He knows you now," she said, looking up into Kain's eyes. "He saw you. Given the chance, he will use you. Torment you. Because he knows you are important. I am so sorry, Kain."

Kain frowned in mild disbelief. "How could he have seen me? It was a dream, and I was awake. And no, I'm not important enough to bother looking for me. You worry too much because you're scared. Again. No one's here, so don't be."

"You were there," she said. "I heard your voice and then you appeared. He saw! He knows!"

Kain did not understand. Did not know how Eredin worked.

"You're important… to me. And so he will come for you if he cannot find me. He will use you to draw me out. Like he did with Geralt."

"Geralt is a much better bet," Kain reasoned. "You met me two days ago, and Geralt is... whatever he is for a lifetime. It's stupid to put any bet on someone like me with sure options lying elsewhere."

Ciri simply shook her head, but knew at that moment she would not be able to convince him otherwise.

She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, waiting for their winged savior to come.

Rubbing his shoulders for warmth, Kain wandered the expanse of the hall and studied the arch once again. And once again, he felt he didn't want to touch it.

"How is he even able to find me after just a glimpse in your dream?" he turned back to her. "Is he that good a wizard?"

"I don't know," she said softly. "I don't know whether it is he who does it, or if there are mages under his command he uses for such purposes. But he always shows up at the least convenient times. After everything I've seen, I'd be an idiot not to believe he can find you too. To believe you are safe."

Kain pondered, and shrugged. "Either way, if you spend your time being afraid of something that hasn't happened, he's already won. Why would you hand it to him so easily?"

"Because it is all that ever happens. Every day, The Wild Hunt is the focus. And when I try to think of something else, distract myself, living my life as though I am not hunted, the people around me see it as rebellion. An act of selfishness. As though I am a petulant child pushing the boundaries her guardians have imposed on her."

"It is a rebellion of sorts," he agreed. "But a natural one urging to fight confinement and chains. You chained yourself to that Hunt and it's not a life, anymore. It's existence."

"Which is why, at times, it seems tempting to just end it," she confessed, tucking her hair behind her ear and setting her sight on the dark sky, searching for signs of an approaching griffin. She was a lot more eager to get away from here than she had been the last time.

"And that is not just letting him win, it's discarding all the efforts made by all of you." He nodded in afterthought. "But I do understand."

"I'm not saying I would. Only that the thought occurs at times."

She looked at him. "I tried once before, you know? Before The Hunt. But I couldn't go through with it. I think, deep down, it's not in my nature to lie down and die."

"I don't think it's in anyone's nature. Nature has it that life fights to stay alive. That's natural."

"I suppose so," she agreed, shrugging.

It took about an hour or some more before Griffin's flying silhouette appeared in the sky. He screeched approaching and landed on his quiet cat's paws, claws clicking against the stony floor as he ran a few paces in momentum.

Kain stroked his chest, then hopped on and held a hand for her. They didn't linger.

"We go back first," he told her. "Your sword and cloak are still there."

"Yes," she said once she had climbed up behind him. She could not do this without Swallow. The blade had always felt as though it had been made just for her.

This time, she wrapped her arms around Kain and rested the side of her head against his back, no longer as shy or timid as she had been in his presence during their first flight.

The cold was starting to register now and the journey was freezing. Still, they made it through and arrived back at the cave relatively unharmed some time later.

After slipping off the animal and giving him her thanks, she headed into the darkening cave. The fire was close to going out, glowing embers all that remained.

She found her sword and put it on, then repeated the same process with her cloak, trying to warm her hands beneath its comforting fur.

It was much warmer in the cave even with the campfire barely alive, compared to the winds in the tower.

Kain strapped his sword on, pondered, and then took the satchel with the cloak and the bow and quiver, as well. It had been a lot of flying, and Griffin would have to rest a day in the druids woods before they returned.

Just a bit more, he thought stroking the beast's neck, then beckoned the girl.

"Try the front row," he said, helping her onto the griffin. He settled behind her, leaning forward into her coaxing her to hunch over so they didn't fall.

Griffin croaked, trotted, leapt and flew up. Kain felt the effort - it took more strain. But only a shorter distance was left to cover.

Sitting up front gave the illusion she was the one in control and it made for an exhilarating flight. As much as her guilt and fear allowed her to feel, anyway.

Ciri reveled in the sensation of Kain's body pressing against her back. It was very different to be held by someone she actually liked than the nightmarish creature in her dream. Pleasant. Comforting.

With one hand gently buried in the griffin's feathers, the other came to rest over Kain's hand on her waist, squeezing him lightly as though she could take strength from his presence. She did.

They landed a short distance from the camp, which was the smart choice. She knew of at least one person there who would not take kindly to a griffin suddenly descending amongst the sleeping men.

She slipped off, waited for Kain, and then set off to the camp with urgent footfalls, already trying to seek out Geralt in the darkness. Had he retired to Mousesack's cave? Or had he made use of one of the few tents standing around the campsite?

Kain gestured for Griffin to fly, for he knew the place and where he would have to hide. Griffin looked forward to some sleep. He took off lightly without the burden and flew straight over the camp for the woods. Kain could only hope Ciri's friends were asleep or indoors.

They weren't.

As she went to find her friends, he picked a round detour to deposit his satchel, bow and cloak in Mousesack's cave under the tree for picking up later.

When he emerged from there, the camp was no longer dead-quiet.

Sleep claimed Geralt for a short time, as though a few minutes' worth of dozing off over a half-empty tankard when you've had too much.

He lay still not to wake Yennefer who seemed to be sound asleep next to him, and stared at the starry sky, jerking involuntarily as a huge black shadow passed over it and toward the wood.

His instincts wiped the memory of Yennefer from his mind as he jumped to his feet, his hand reaching habitually over his shoulder to the sword.

Yennefer was awake now, too, getting to her feet, inquiring what happened.

"She's here," Avallac'h said, approaching. His hand pointed, Yennefer and Geralt turned to see.

"Ciri?"

The first person she saw was Avallac'h. He was standing upon a cliff overlooking the ocean, quiet and calm even as he turned to face her upon hearing her footsteps. Ciri could not read his face. It was never easy to tell with Avallac'h. Joy. Anger. Constipation. It all looked the same on the elf's face.

When he spoke, Ciri noticed two figures getting up off the ground. Geralt. And Yennefer? When had she gotten here?

Ciri inhaled deeply, approaching them with a solemn expression. "I messed up."

Avallac'h's jaw clenched ever so slightly and he raised his head, watching her without any surprise, whatsoever. He'd expected it.

Geralt didn't see her face too well in the dark, and the torches were far enough, but he sensed her distress through the way she moved and stood. It was enough to make his own anxiety expand at once.

"Ciri, what happened?" he asked, hurrying to her. "Are you all right? Did he do something to you?"

Ciri blinked up at Geralt, needing a few seconds to understand who "he" was. "What? No. Of course not." That seemed silly. "I– …"

"You jumped," Avallac'h cut in calmly. "In your sleep."

She watched him, shame rising from the pit of her stomach, and eventually nodded her confirmation. "Yes."

Their attention was on the girl, and Kain needed to get going. On quiet feet, he picked a route for the forest, giving the group a wide berth, but then some alien power zapped through him like a jolt of lightning, stunning momentarily, then pulling him down to his knees.

He jerked to free himself, but there was a thin chain wrapped around his torso, ensuring his arms were tight against his body, and his ankles pressed together.

A tall figure detached from the group to make a few steps toward him. He saw a sharp face with angular features and a pair of cold elven eyes scrutinizing him. "You are not _that_ fast this time," the elf said in a listless tone.

Ciri turned her head just in time to see Avallac'h capture Kain with some sort of spell, her eyes widening in surprise and shock at the scene unfolding. Avallac'h never used force or violence. It was something he reserved for their enemies.

Yennefer took the opportunity to feel out the boy's energy, to gauge for herself if he was some elusive threat and to put an immediate end to it if she had to. "We need to get back to Kaer Morhen."

Ciri spun on the spot, fear and incredulity sending her heart and her hold on her powers into overdrive once more. She ran for them and kneeled beside Kain. "What the bloody hell are you doing, Avallac'h?" she demanded, instinctively attempting to slip her fingers beneath the thin chain encircling Kain's body, forced to pull away almost at once because it stung and burned her skin. "Release him!"

Peering up at the one Ciri called Avallac'h, Kain was calculating his chances. The smartest way seemed to be playing it quiet.

"What is actually going on here, can anyone explain?" Geralt demanded, approaching the Sage.

"If he's got nothing to hide, why would he be escaping?" Avallac'h reasoned calmly and tore his assessing gaze off the boy to consider Ciri. "I do not threaten him, Zireael. Yet."

_Trust an Elf to make perfectly tense situation tenser_, thought Yennefer.

"We don't have time for this. Release the boy, Avallac'h."

"Because he wants no part of this!" Ciri hissed, eyes blazing with fury as she shot to her feet. "This is not his battle. Let him go, so that we may go."

Avallac'h's face didn't change, he stared at Ciri with the same listless attention. "Having wandered alongside him for mere two days among some rocks doesn't mean you know him, Zireael. Or would get to know anyone, for that matter. What you do know is not necessarily true."

"What do you plan to do?" Geralt butted in, his mouth creased in displeasure. "Questioning and torture? Ciri's right, we have no time. If she used her powers, it leaves us barely some hours, if we're lucky."

Avallac'h gave him a nonchalant look, his mouth curving the tiniest of bits in ironic amusement. "I do not hold you back. You three may go. I shall join shortly."

Ciri closed the distance between them until they were almost chest to chest, glaring up at the elf with a sense of betrayal. "You and I go together," she said in a deceivingly soft tone, one he had taught her, soon followed by an uncertain whisper meant for his ears only. "Why are you doing this?"

They'd fought before. Time and time again. But he had never done anything like this. They fought, then made up. There had been no other ritual. Now… everything was out of balance.

No reaction passed through Avallac'h's features; only the corners of his mouth twitched again.

_Like a fox smelling the chicken that is soon to end up in its teeth_, Kain thought.

"You cannot teach me how to do what I know needs to be done, Zireael," Avallac'h reminded. "You need my help. Always. And I tell you to go to the keep now – if you want all your friends to be best prepared for what is coming. For what you have summoned with your reckless choice."

"What is up with you and this boy, Avallac'h?" Geralt said. "We have the Hunt coming. We need to go."

"Indeed, you do," the Sage said. "All of you. Zireael cannot take more than two."

Ciri appreciated Geralt and Yennefer's insistence Kain be let go as well, but it seemed to have no effect on Avallac'h's choices. "Oh, but you need me, too," she reminded him, playing the same card he had chosen to put on the table. "And I pity whoever tries to make me leave against my own will."

"What in the name of Gods is this?"

Mousesack was approaching agilely from around the hill.

Ciri moved to look past Avallac'h at the sound of Mousesack's voice, feeling a sliver of hope. Surely he would convince the Sage to let Kain go. The Archer was under Mousesack's protection, after all.

"Avallac'h has decided to bind, question, and possibly torment an innocent man because I defied his orders," she said for the druid to hear, for was that not what was happening?

Given everything that had happened tonight and could still happen Avallac'h was lucky that Mousesack had arrived, as Yennefer was getting ready to intervene on behalf of Ciri.

The sorceress didn't like what had happened tonight, either, the fact that Ciri'd put herself at risk accidentally, but the way he was talking to her and currently treating her was as if he was trying to deal with an errant slave.

"This boy is under my protection, Avallac'h," Mousesack said, stomping his staff in emphasis as he came to a halt next to Ciri. "Release him."

"Is his beast under your protection, as well?" the Sage asked, his eyebrow rising ever slightly.

Kain sighed, gnashing his teeth to remain quiet.

"What beast?" Geralt asked, then pondered a moment, and looked at Ciri; a knowing look seeking a confirmation. "That thing – it was a griffin? I remember the sound, I just couldn't put an image to it until now. No one has ever tamed a griffin—"

"Geralt," Mousesack put in. "Please. This is not—"

Geralt shot him an angry look. "How hard was it to just tell me, to begin with? It's not a joke."

This was getting out of hand. Ciri could feel it. And Avallac'h did not seem eager to back down, even going so far as to add extra conflict to an already dire situation.

Her eyes sought Kain's, though she was not entirely certain he was able to look at her from his current position. She did not know the extent of his powers. Ciri knew he could not open portals or travel like she did. But surely he had some tricks up his sleeve on how to get out of magical binds? Unless Avallac'h was too strong?

What chance did a youth have against a centuries-old highly trained mage?

The longer she looked at the binds snuggly restraining Kain, the more she listened to their argument, the more her blood boiled. She could feel it coming… Coming quickly… That exhilarating anticipation that made her whole body tingle and tremble with unspent power… Flashes of green in her periphery…

She was going to snap. And then they would all be done for.

She strained visibly to contain herself, one hand balled in a fist, the other flat against her stomach as though it reminded her to inhale and exhale.

"Please let him go," she breathed, her words in the tongue of the Elder Speech, the usual means of communication between Avallac'h and herself. "You have made your point, Crevan. I was wrong to leave. Wrong to disobey you. I have made a mess of everything. But don't take it out on him."

Avallac'h gave the tiniest of smiles. "So eager for him to leave, Zireael? And here I thought you yearned for his company. I already told you, I do not threaten him. But I do execute my precautions as I see fit."

"The griffin shall not harm anyone," Mousesack said. "It hasn't done such thing as of yet, but if you insist on threats, Geralt, and you, Sage, there is no way to guarantee anything."

"How can a creature even be controlled?" Geralt argued. "It does what it wants, protects its territory and what it considers as such."

"He understands much more than you think, Witcher," Kain said through gritted teeth, unable to bite his tongue on this one.

"He," Geralt repeated. "How well does 'he' listen to you?"

"I don't command him," Kain said. "He's free."

"It makes 'him' dangerous," Geralt concluded. "As any creature of that size and levels of aggression that settled close to human villages."

"What precautions?" Ciri asked Avallac'h before switching back to her mother tongue, regarding Geralt with a pleading look. "The Griffin is not a concern. He does not attack unless threatened, like any of us."

This entire scene was out of control and people were beginning to lose sight of the actual problem here as Yennefer saw it. And it wasn't the boy or his griffin.

Yennefer understood where Geralt was coming from, that it was natural for him to question its appearance, its aggression, but it was still secondary to what was most important right this very second and something they could deal with later if it came down to that.

"Geralt," she tried, squeezing his shoulder, attempting at least to get someone to see reason although she'd thought that Mousesack would be the one. "Forget the boy and his stupid bird. We need to take Ciri and go."

Geralt reflected for a long moment, then looked at Mousesack over Ciri's shoulder.

"All right," he said. "I have but one question, then. Why did he need to hide in Brokilon? They harbored criminals of their blood wanted by the human world. What was the crime?"

Mousesack cast an uncertain, apologetic look at Kain.

Kain spared him the dilemma. "I killed a witcher," he said, glaring up at Geralt. "To save a griffin."

Ciri had suspected as much, so his confession did not come as a big surprise to her. She knew it would not make Geralt and the other witchers favor him, though.

She shifted her gaze to Avallac'h, trying to make some leeway with the stubborn elf. "What precautions? You still think he means me harm?"

Yennefer's hold tightened reflectively on Geralt and her eyes narrowed on the boy as if to spear him with a warning that suggested he didn't get any ideas or say anything any further. "Is it really the best time to be having this conversation?"

Geralt stood still like a statue for a long moment, then slipped his hand down Kain's jacket's neck, and it came out with the Cat medallion.

Geralt scowled deeply, letting the pendant go as if it scalded him, his eyes locked on Kain's.

"It's you. That renegade Cat."

Kain made no answer. Mousesack muttered something into his beard. Avallac'h seemed rather content with how things were going. His attention was consumed by Geralt and Kain, and he was ignoring Ciri's pleas as if she weren't there.

"It was a big thing six years ago," Geralt said, eyeballing the prisoner. "A Cat witcher killed one of his own with his silver sword during a griffin contract, and ran off. The griffin also disappeared. However few there were left of the Cats still doing their job - all of them were looking for him. Even other schools did. It's the foulest crime to kill a brother, more so with silver like one of the demonic things we hunt."

"I've never been proud of it," Kain said quietly, still holding Geralt's eyes with his glare. "But I'd do it again if time traveled back for me to reconsider."

What did surprise Ciri was that Geralt seemed to have heard of Kain through stories and rumors, It shouldn't have. But it did. Of course, the witcher schools would share such information with one another. They were brethren, after all.

"Why did someone take out a contract on the griffin?" she asked Kain. "Had he harmed someone or was it simply because he was not human?"

The human kind did have a tendency to attack whatever might be a threat, without actually assessing whether or not the threat was real.

Yennefer glared at the boy and his stubbornness, massaging at Geralt's shoulder, moving to sandwich herself between them as if she expected he'd try to launch himself at the boy despite his calm.

"This is not the time to debate the potential right or wrongs and whether or not his actions were justified." A tone she'd directed at both Geralt and Ciri since she'd decided to interject and add to the situation. "There'll be plenty of time for that later, to revel in all of this with stunning clarity and to deal with it as needs be. But for now—could we start making plans to get to Kaer Morhen?"

"He killed two people," Geralt responded in Kain's stead. "Ripped them to pieces right in the village. People were so terrified they were willing to pay two witchers for killing it, even though it was more than they could afford."

Muscles bulging in his cheeks, Kain kept quiet. Geralt did not.

"And during the fight one witcher killed his partner instead of the beast. Villagers found his body still clenching his silver sword, another one ran through his heart. No sign of griffin or the killer." The Witcher's eyes narrowed with a hint of disdain. "The witchers said your nickname was White Cat, after one of the best students of their school from the Tournament times, Gwyncath."

"Not after him," Kain said, holding the Witcher's glower with his. "I'm Gwyncath of The Cat School."

"Eh Gods…" Mousesack muttered, rubbing his face with his palm, head shaking. "So silly…"

Geralt's face was one he would have had if a lightning speared suddenly through him. "It's impossible."

Ciri opened her mouth to tell Yennefer she was going nowhere until Kain was freed from his bonds, but Geralt cut her off.

"What are you talking about?" Ciri had been understanding everything up until the tournament and that is where they had lost her. Why was that of such importance? "What is impossible?"

"The Tournament between our schools was held fifty-five years ago," Geralt said, unable to look away from Kain. "He'd be my peer if it were true."

It was Kain's turn to stare. It had just flipped over into a nightmare territory.

"Shortly after it The Cat School was sieged and destroyed, and later came our turn," Geralt added. "Decades have passed."

"Just fifteen years," Kain said, hearing his own voice as if it belonged to someone else he didn't know.

"Drop the plot now," Geralt demanded. "You'd look not much younger than me right now. You barely look eighteen."

Kain set his glower back on him. "I bested Frank of the Wolves, and then they put him and Gweld against me together, which ended in our win in the tour with the Wolves' loss of points."

Geralt paled significantly and looked like a ghost in the moonlight. "I was going to fight next tour," he murmured. "Alongside Gweld… he said we'd beat that Cat together, he and I… as always…" He blinked, as if coming out of a deep reverie, his eyes sharpened. "It can't be. Someone told you stories—"

"None of us ever spoke of that," Kain said. "Neither did your school, I'm sure."

Vesemir had told Ciri during one of their history lessons that twenty-three witchers and forty students had called Kaer Morhen their home at the time of the attack. Only he and the witchers on the Path survived the massacre executed by angry fanatics.

It was as Geralt said – decades ago. Vesemir was old as dirt.

So why then did Kain seem to think these events had happened so recently?

In the back of her mind, something familiar prickled. A voice telling her she should know. But she didn't. Couldn't put the vague puzzle pieces together.

She kneeled beside Kain, tired and confused and frustrated. "Why could you not speak of it?" She looked from Kain to Geralt, searching for answers to the questions that were making her head hurt.

Geralt was the one to answer once again. His voice was hollow like a ghost's. "Because it was The School of Cat who betrayed us all chasing power promised by the king who betrayed them just as they did us. Royal troops attacked killing everyone in their path. Very few escaped after the Tournament. Mousesack helped me. My best friend Gweld died in the massacre." The Witcher turned to the druid whose face was like a stormy sky. "Did you help him, too? Do you recognize him?"

Mousesack hemmed reproachfully. "I only had time to help you, Geralt."

"He didn't help me," Kain said. "I escaped with a small group of three, and we parted afterwards."

"How old are you?" Geralt asked. "Do you know?"

"Thirty three."

Geralt snorted. "You lie through your teeth."

"Think whatever you want," Kain snarled.

Geralt paced a short bit to calm, then stood before him once again, looking grim. "Whatever it is with the Tournament story matters less than your crime that is fully confirmed and real. It has no expiration, you do know that. There's barely a trial for it other than a chance to give your side of the story. I'm still a witcher, and it's my duty to take you to Kaer Morhen for the trial." He brushed a hand over Ciri's shoulder, "I'm sorry."

"Geralt," Mousesack began, but Witcher raised his hand and looked at Yennefer.

"Take him to the keep, will you?"

Geralt didn't have to ask her twice. Yennefer wanted the conflict over. Her concern was Ciri, and although Yen knew Ciri wasn't going to be happy with her decision – for right now – this move was for the best.

She'd help Ciri once they were there and more was revealed.

Although a lot had already been said.

Ciri stood, unable to help a narrowed-eyed gaze at Geralt when he uttered the command. She was torn. Torn between wanting to protect Kain and respecting, to a certain degree, the witcher protocol and Geralt's responsibility.

At least she trusted him with Kain more than she did Avallac'h.

"Don't hurt him," she told Yennefer before her portal swallowed them up.

Yennefer hardly gave the boy time to protest as she engulfed him in a sheen of gold and then stepped into the portal after him.

When the magic faded and silence reigned once more, Ciri placed her hands on her hips, studying the three men surrounding her with a fierce stare, bracing herself for whatever storm they would throw her way now the other object of their anger and frustration was gone.

Avallac'h stood like a figure cut out of stone, glancing listlessly between Ciri and Mousesack, while Geralt slowly paced along the hill preoccupied with dark reveries.

"I'm so sorry, child," the Druid said to Ciri. "I didn't want all this to happen and tried to keep you two apart for a reason. I'm sorry I failed."

Ciri watched Geralt pace and only turned to face Mousesack once he addressed her directly. "Not your fault," she said, glancing at Avallac'h pointedly. That had no effect on him, whatsoever.

"We need to go now," Avallac'h reminded coldly. Mousesack nodded and went for Geralt. "You're with me, Zireael."

"You're with _me_," she amended because she was the one with the actual power to transport them anywhere. Sh grabbed the elf by the arm non-too-gently like he would have done her had the situation been reversed, and muttered under her breath as they disappeared in a flash of green, "A d'yaebl aép arse…"

* * *

There was a fleeting dizziness as Kain stepped out of the swirling gold, rubbing his arms where the chains disappeared as soon as the portal swallowed him. The sorceress came after. The keep lay right ahead, its old wooden gates open across the barely holding up bridge over the ditch. Kain couldn't help but stare before she urged him to walk on.

It felt like there was an eternity between his memories and what had become of the place.

"Tell me something," Yennefer began, climbing the stairs behind the boy, gaze glued to his back. "Why'd you kill the witcher? Was it out of some sense of moral outrage? Was he tormenting the poor creature and you happened to have a soft spot for it? Or did it go deeper?"

"What difference does it make to you?" he said, ascending the endless stairs on the way to where he remembered the heart of their keep was.

"Ciri has known you two days and for some reason she is fighting for you. I'd just like to know if what she is fighting for is decent or if you're a cold blooded killer."

Yennefer wasn't judging him, she didn't know much about him, and while she had the opportunity, she wanted to know that if she set herself on the line later, stepped in to help her defend him, that it would be for a reason.

"She'd be better off fighting solely for herself," he stated, watching someone on the top landing next to the doors leading into the inner yard of the keep. "Protecting me is pointless. I did what I did. Not in cold blood, but consciously. I knew what I was doing."

Yennefer agreed with him on that front.

Unfortunately, even if he was trying to push her in that direction, it had come to Yennefer's attention in everything that had happened on that hill, that he'd become part of her daughter's self-discovery. That, aside from Geralt and her family, Ciri found someone outside that she wanted to fight for and was doing so with recognizable vehemence Yennefer wasn't even sure she was aware was likened to passion.

Was that what Geralt had noticed?

The two witchers that had been conversing at the gates were staring at them as the two approached.

"A friend of yours, Yennefer?" Eskel asked. Coen was silently scrutinizing Kain.

"For the time being," she stated. "Coen, you should get him set up with a place to stay."

"I think it's best to ask Vesemir about it," Coen said, looking uncertain. Eskel nodded, and he waved a hand at the gate. "He's inside, probably still talking to Triss. We can't help you, we have our chores. Not much time left for preparations, as they keep telling us. Traps and bombs won't make themselves, as Lambert likes to repeat."

Yennefer expelled the softest of sigh and encouraged the boy to keep moving.

"Do yourself a favor and keep the 'I killed another witcher' talk to a minimum," she began, purposely keeping her voice low and determined. "In fact, hence forth, do yourself a favor and don't mention it, period. We need every hand we can when it comes to the Wild Hunt and although you didn't plan for it – as you can see – we're intending for battle and need all the hands we can get."

"Geralt won't keep it secret – I'm here to be tried for it, and it's not something you or Ciri can prevent."

Kain pushed the gate and went in with her following him. There was a couple – a man and a woman with short blond hair – were busy in the corner of the yard, they barely spared them a glance, arguing as they were. But there was Geralt waiting on the next level of stairs. He walked with them.

"I'll take him," he said. "Thank you, Yennefer. You should go back to preparations."

"Geralt," Yennefer began, imploring in her tone, grabbing a hold of his arm, trying to forestall his intention and to draw him aside, away from the boy that so that she could speak to him privately. "Before you do or say anything – let's just talk for a minute."

Geralt gave her a firm look, stalling for all but a moment. "I'm not doing anything wrong. We shall talk later. I need to go see Vesemir now."

He nudged the boy forward, and they went up the stairs for the keep doors.

* * *

They appeared in her old room inside the keep a mere second later. Ciri released her hold on the Elf as soon as it was done, but allowed herself a moment to look around.

Her bed was still there. As was the rat skin nailed to the wall that she had taken great pride in once upon a time. Other than that it was pretty bare.

Avallac'h looked disgusted. "Why have your brought us to a broom closet?" he asked, wrinkling his nose at the sight of the rat.

Ciri didn't spare him another look. Everything felt awkward and wrong with him now. Broken trust. "This is my room," she said and headed out in search of the others.

She descended the stone stairs with some urgency, Avallac'h in tow. The kitchen was empty but someone had lit a fire in the fireplace that separated this room from the main hall.

She didn't stop to sneak some extra food as she might have done were she still a child in training here. She headed out instead.

Vesemir and Triss were sat at the wooden table on the other side of the fire, sharing a conversation. Vesemir always looked more happy in Triss's company than Yennefer's. Ciri had never fully understood why.

She didn't stop to greet them and they did not appear to see her. For now.

She made for the front doors, Avallac'h still on her heels as though he had her in some invisible tether.

"Is this going to be our new thing? Never parting?"

He did not say anything. He merely continued to follow.

Ciri pushed open the heavy front door and stepped out in the darkness. She already knew where Kain was, could feel that strange bond between them tugging her steadily closer to him.

And there they all were, the three of them, the closest thing she had ever had to parents and… whatever Kain was.

_Important_, said the voice in her head. _Important_.

"Where is Mousesack?" she asked immediately, blocking the entrance with her body. "If you are to give him a trial, he deserves a witness. Someone who can vouch for him. Someone who knows him."

"There won't be any trial right now," said Geralt. He sounded very tired. "We all should get some rest and resolve our matters in a couple of hours. I believe we have a day or so before the Hunt is here, is that so?"

"Approximately," Avallac'h said from over Ciri's shoulder. "You might have until the next dusk."

"Fine," Geralt nudged Kain again to walk.

"I'm sorry," Ciri mouthed to Kain once their eyes briefly met, needing him to know but unwilling to humiliate them further by making some grand and heartfelt declaration in the presence of the people she loved. And Avallac'h.

She reluctantly let them pass but stayed right on their heels, with the Sage still hot on hers. She wasn't going to let them shut her out of the 'adult' conversations the way they had done when she was a child.

Vesemir rose from his chair, a smile beginning on his lips until he saw Kain. He frowned, his eyes went to Geralt with a question.

"It is White Cat, Vesemir," Geralt explained, barely glancing in Triss's direction, his focus on his mentor. "He killed a witcher during the contract six years ago, one of those Lambert knew."

"I do remember," Vesemir murmured, scrutinizing Kain in deep thought.

"I know the time is most unkind to us, but this matter has to be resolved by the code."

Vesemir's face slowly shifted from confusion to shock and disbelief. He stepped closer to Kain, his eyes searching his face. "Dear Gods… is this… how? Gwyncath? But… it's impossible…"

"Vesemir," Geralt said, taken aback. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

Vesermir's hands came to rest on Kain's shoulders, his eyes wide and still disbelieving. "But how," he kept muttering, "how?"

"What is going on?" Triss ventured.

"How can it be, Gwyncath?" Vesemir asked, not having registered Triss's curiosity at all.

Kain merely shook his head, shocked how much older Vesemir looked. As if…

_Over fifty years have passed…_

"I don't know," he said helplessly. "I don't know."

"But…" Vesemir blinked, sobering up, and glanced between his student and Kain. "What about that murder? It… it was you? Truly you? All this time…"

Kain let out a shaky breath, and gave a curt nod. "I killed him. I did kill him, Vesemir. I do deserve to be tried for it. Geralt is right."

"Oh gods." Vesemir's face darkened with dismay and sorrow. His hands slipped off Kain's shoulders, he heaved a long sigh, then turned to Geralt. "It indeed should wait at least for two hours. We have a room to put him in. Follow me, Geralt. And you, Gwyncath."

Ciri had stayed a few paces behind, watching the exchange with wide and fearful eyes. Their conversation meant more than she could truly understand, and for the briefest of moments she doubted every decision she had made concerning Kain the past few days.

But then sense was knocked back into her skull. He had not lied to her. He had not deceived her. He simply had not told his whole story. Which was fair. She had held back from him, too.

None of her arguments had made any difference with Geralt or Avallac'h earlier, and she doubted that would change now. Vesemir might look softer on occasion, but she had felt the sting of belt several times before and knew the witcher rage in him had not faded yet.

"Don't hurt him," she said once the trio set off, a final plea, for she knew not what else to do. "Please don't…"

"What is this all about?" Triss asked again, this time setting her wide eyes on Ciri, since Yennefer had removed herself before the exchange was over. She had a talent of quiet disappearances – just as she always knew how to make an appearance with a bang and then some.

"The boy Zireael has found on Skellige Isles appears to have quite a history with her witchers and some others," Avallac'h said.

"Oh," Triss said, glancing after the retreating witchers, then back to Ciri, concern in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, my dear. It's horrible."

Ciri watched them go, unable to tear her eyes off the retreating three. Even unable to accept the sympathy Triss was offering her. It had been so long… Comfort? You could count on no one for that. Ciri had only herself.

A sudden humorless laugh escaped her as she stared at the doorway they had just gone through. "I've condemned him to death. Twice."

It was not funny. Not at all. And yet she laughed. Because she should have known. Every friendly person she had encountered over the years when she was on her own had met an untimely death shortly after getting to know her. Why should he be any different? Perhaps she was cursed.

Ciri wandered in the direction they had gone, intending to make her way back to her room where she could have some privacy.

Avallac'h caught her arm before she got far, holding her back. "Zireael…"

She tugged herself free of his hold, coldly staring up into the eyes that had once made her feel safe. "Next time you touch me I will break your nose."

She turned on her heels and continued with her mission, leaving an unreadable Avallac'h and a highly uncomfortable Triss behind.

* * *

They led Kain to a small room that was barely any different than the one he lived in at The School of Cat.

Over sixty years ago.

He sat down on the dusty cot, shivering at the thought. It was just like Vesemir kept putting it: impossible.

"How can it be that he's my age?" Geralt asked.

"I don't know," Vesemir scratched his cheek with grey stubble. "They believed Gwyncath had perished with many others during the massacre."

"I escaped with two others, and then we parted," Kain said. "More chances for each to hide somewhere. I don't recall much – it was chaos. There were soldiers on our trail, unwilling to let us go alive. I killed the two following me, and then I just… I had a few wounds by then, and was beginning to feel woozy. I probably passed out, because I woke up in the woods and stayed there for a few weeks before venturing out. And when I did, there were no soldiers hunting us down, anymore. I still went to Brokilon where I stayed for two years before I left. Then I met a group of Cats, and they offered to work with them. So I did for some years. Dirk, Aiden—"

"Vienne, Hammond, Lund, Selyse," Geralt listed with a grim mien. "Jad Karadin. A group of assassins."

Kain winced. "All I ever did with them was share some contracts, big ones like griffins, wyverns, some huge nests that needed more than one sword to play it safer. I never asked them what they did in their own spare time, nor was I ever a part of this. I minded my own business for the most part even then."

Geralt studied him with pensive doubt. "Even so," he concluded. "You ended up on their list, and not by wrong. Did you have anything to do with Aiden's death?"

Kain narrowed his eyes. "I only now hear from you he's dead. Dirk was the closest I've been to. Others didn't try to become buddies. None of us Cats ever have."

"For the life of me, I cannot decipher how you could be at the Tournament, and then begin to live after fifty years," Vesemir said. "Where have you lost all those years, my boy? And your age? Any age…"

Kain leaned his head back against the wall, sighing, his eyes closing in helpless weariness. "I don't know, Vesemir, I swear, I don't know. I… it was just fifteen years for me. Only fifteen. Not fifty. I don't know."

"All right," Geralt said, running a hand through his hair. "We shall solve one riddle at a time. First thing is the murder. It has to be done. Lambert… I shall talk to him when he wakes."

"Yes," Vesemir said. "Better do it alone. This matter – if we have to do it as soon as we will – shall be resolved in a closed trial. It's our case. Witcher matter. No one else needs to be there. Everybody has their tasks as it is. After the trial we hold council concerning the Wild Hunt."

"Agreed," Geralt nodded. "Get some rest," he added to Kain before they went out the door.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** _(Our dear readers! Each and every one of you who decided to take time and check out our story is precious to us, as well as each opinion. We thank each of you who took time to leave a comment, a review or a complaint. Time is precious and it matters to us that you spent some of yours to read and review our work. Thank you._

_We also need to remind you that we are a group of roleplayers that turn their scripts into fanfics and present them to you here. This particular story does, indeed, revolve around Geralt and Yennefer, but not them alone, for their world includes other people dear to them. _

_We have read the books, played the game and watched the show and were left disappointed at how some things, characters and plots were handled. Our ideas for this story include all the main characters of the saga, and we wish to give them all time they need to shine. This story does contain original characters that we have entwined into the world in a way that we felt was natural to enrich the story and the main characters and show more of their facets. We do give all of the main cast equal time and attention, we assure you. It's why we do it in the first place: to spend more time with them than we could in books, game and show._

_If any of you do not approve of original characters - even though you have accepted them in games and the show but don't trust us to interest you in what we have in store - it's all right. It's impossible to satisfy everybody's taste. _

_We thank you all for checking out our story and wish you a great day.)_

* * *

**CHAPTER 11**

In the hall on the way to her room, Ciri heard voices. They had chosen a room for Kain not too far from her own, probably not intending to leave him alone for long enough that they could meet up, anyway.

She stopped outside their door, her back against the wall. Their voices carried loud and clear and she heard with ease everything they were discussing. None of it made her feel any better. Especially considering Kain's earlier insistence he deserved whatever came to him. It sounded too much like giving up to her ears. She needed him to fight.

The moment it was made clear Geralt and Vesemir were about to depart, she quickly moved to her own room on silent feet, leaving the door ajar so she could hear them should they decide to discuss anything further between them.

While she waited, she took a seat on her bed. The linens probably had not been changed or shaken out since she was last here. She didn't care.

Once she heard their footsteps recede, she poked her head back out into the hallway to check the coast was clear. Finding it was, she crossed to Kain's door again and knocked. "It's me. May I come in?"

Kain chuckled despite himself, still sitting against the wall with his eyes closed. "It's not actually _my_ room, you do realize it, don't you?"

Ciri opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind her again. "I do. I just wasn't sure if you would want to see me."

"Why's that?"

"If I had gone with Geralt to the druid camp instead of insisting on spending it with you, you would still be in Skellige," she said, leaning against the wall. "Free as a bird."

Kain shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm still free. I could escape and no one would find me again. I know the keep and its surroundings. I just don't want to."

Ciri frowned. "Why? Why would you not want to?"

"Because I don't question what happens when I see that it does so for a reason.

"They deserve to get their satisfaction for what I did. So do I.

"If it wasn't like that, I'd have escaped your group back on Skellige."

"They always told me not to act out of vengeance. To kill without euphoria. Is this not vengeance? It won't change what happened."

"They view it as justice. They're not completely wrong. I took a life that was important to them."

"And if the trial does not go your way…" _They will take a life that is important to me_, Ciri thought, but couldn't muster to say it out loud.

She took a seat on the cot beside him, shoulder to shoulder because it calmed her, and leaned back against the wall. "So… fifty-five years, hm? I thought I'd finally met someone my own age."

"I was eighteen at the time of the Tournament," he murmured as if to himself. "Fifty-five years ago... There must be something wrong with that. Or with me..."

"I believe you," she said, if that meant anything at all to him. "I have seen enough in this world and those beyond to know that anything is possible."

"I remember that guy, Gweld," he mused. "The last one I fought. Red hair, very agile, but also very rash. Predictable. I remember he had a best friend with white hair... I glimpsed them often while at Kaer Morhen, but I didn't remember his face, nor name... until now when it came back. Geralt. It's strange.

I've always remembered Vesemir, however, and he looked... well, younger. Much younger."

He sucked in a breath, rubbed his face and sighed in defeat.

"Maybe I'm crazy." He paused, then added in afterthought, "Only Vesemir remembers me, too."

It was strange thinking of Geralt as a youth. Vesemir, too. Ciri realized she'd somehow always believed them to just be… old. She wondered what they were like back then. "You are not crazy. But you have said it yourself: there are forces in this world beyond our control. And sometimes beyond our understanding. Perhaps some day you will find the answers."

She paused, toying with the hem of her frayed shirt. She'd have to get a new one somewhere. "Maybe that is why I have been unable to part from you these past few days. Maybe you were meant to come here and find answers."

That was almost a depressing thought. She had counted on it being something more… personal.

"I'm here because my past has finally caught up with me. You, though…" He chuckled softly. "You work in your own mysterious ways. And why you kept finding me, only you will know."

"I'm not so sure I will. It's not yet clear to me why or how. I've never been able to do that with anyone else." Another brief pause. "I can feel Geralt sometimes. When we are close. But not far away like I did with you. And people can call me silly. They can call me a child. They can believe it is infatuation of youth. But I know it is more than that.

"I was a Child of Surprise, you know? Destined for Geralt. But he denied me the first times we met. I'm still not entirely certain why. But I knew, I just knew, he would come back for me in the end. That we would be together. And he did. He found me in the Brokilon forest. He watched me drink the water. And when the Queen asked who I wanted to go with I said Geralt. It was a soul-deep certainty.

"I have a very similar feeling when I look at you. I just don't understand what it means."

Kain thought about it. "Maybe it's like you said - feeling lonely and wishing to find someone your age to relate to, because everybody else isolated you as a child."

"I think you downplay your own importance," she said, watching him with a crooked smile. "But I can not tell you that you are wrong. I don't have the answers yet."

She turned to him more fully, her shoulder to the wall so she could better watch him. "Do you feel anything? I know you said it is rare you have allowed new people this close you. And do not worry, I am not looking for declarations of love and adoration," she added with yet another smile. "I just wonder if what I feel, this strange effect you have on me, if it is one-sided?"

With his eyes still closed, he felt her gaze on him, searching. He contemplated how to actually manage to explain.

"I knew my mother," he said. "But lived an orphan life since I was five. She was the only person I yearned to be with, the only one I ever felt I belonged to, and yet I rarely saw her in flesh. I always knew we couldn't be together. From early on she explained to me that we had to be hidden from those who'd hunt us, and apart we had more chances than together. Most of what I saw of her after coming to The Cat School was dreams. Always so real, but so short...

"When she brought me to the witchers when I was five, I realized I had to learn to never get attached to anyone. I didn't master that art flawlessly, but I worked on it; licked my wounds, and tried again."

He paused, heaved a deep sigh.

"When you ask me what I feel, it's both hard and scary to dig around there to find out for sure. It never brought me any pleasure or peace before, and now my instinct firmly refuses to search for it.

"But I have already told you that what you've managed to do no one has in many years. I don't know why I let you stay and be around, but it felt right, and I trusted it. I don't regret my choices."

Ciri smiled a little despite his sad childhood history and the way it affected him now. They all had those in one form or another, though his seemed harsher than most.

But his explanation was enough for her. It was all she needed. Just a confirmation she had not imagined everything in her head, and that no matter how small, he had felt something, too. A difference.

"Will your Griffin be frightened when he cannot find you?" she asked. "Or can he sense where you are?"

"He'll be fine. Go get some rest. You didn't get much, and there are Riders coming."

"Of course. Right before a battle your body and mind always feels ready for rest," she said teasingly, getting to her feet and heading for the door. "Let me know if you need anything. I'll be close by." Unless Avallac'h had plans to lock her away again.

Ciri left his room and headed in search of Yennefer. Due to everything that had happened, the armor she had acquired in Skellige had been left behind. Ciri could really use some of Yen's skills to help her fashion something out of Geralt's old discarded pieces.

* * *

"If Ciri has used her power and the Wild Hunt is on its way, you need to make a combined effort to help me with Keira," Triss snapped.

She'd been pushing about the boy, questioning the happenings and what little she'd managed to pick up on why he was here and wanted Yennefer to fill her in. Yennefer hadn't cared to and nor was she interested in Triss's particular reasons for why when there were bigger things to concern themselves with.

"You haven't tended to her healing? Isn't that your specialty?"

Triss fixed her with an openly hostile glare, her usual flare of tolerance and sometimes understanding reserved only for those with a cock – one particular cock, that is – and even then it could be tried.

"You know it's not. She came here to help you – to help Ciri."

As that name alone should have inspired some kind of contrition for Yennefer's actions—and it did—deep down, deep in the very part of her heart that was reserved solely for her child and to help her.

And she _was_ Yennefer's child.

"Fine. Every little bit helps," Yennefer conceded. She rose up, swept a hand along her sides and smiled when Ciri eventually joined them in the hall. Yennefer walked over to her and took a hold of her hand before Triss could bombard her with questions about the witchers' prisoner, guiding Ciri with her so they could stroll.

"Been tending to your friend?"

"I… don't know what that means," Ciri admitted with a small frown, holding onto Yennefer's hand like she was still a child. "I won't let them hurt him. No matter what the outcome of this trial. You know that, right?"

Yennefer squeezed her hand to let her know that she did and that she admired Ciri for her determination, for the loyalty and love she appeared to be showing the boy.

"And what do you think you'll be able to do to prevent it?" Yennefer wasn't trying to be condescending or break her down. She wanted Ciri to think, to realize that fate could only be fought for so long before the inevitable caught up or worse. "Take him and shuffle yourselves off into another dimension or deep hole so that he can continue to hide for the rest of his life? _Your_ life? All the while trying to outrun the Wild Hunt? If you think Geralt is harsh or feeling broken now because of this discovery, of some unresolved history, can you imagine what would happen to him if he were to lose you because of it, too? How he'd blame himself? How little chance the boy would have if you get caught again? He's a witcher, Ciri. They have a code, they had a means of dealing with their own, and as little as you and I understand of it, they have the right to deal with it as fairly as they can."

"Fairly being the key-word," Ciri said. "They are prejudice because they are angry. Because they cared for whoever Kain killed. That means they are not fit to judge this case fairly.

"I will do what I feel is necessary to protect those who matter. Just like you do. Just like Geralt does."

She was silent a while, trying to stifle the ire she felt rise within her. She was getting herself all worked up.

"I need your help. With something of an entirely different nature. Armor. I have none. Will you help me fashion something from one of Geralt's old jerkins? Your magic works fast and, sadly, my hands do not. Not when it comes to sewing."

"Have you known Geralt to be anything but fair?"

He'd never been purposely biased, in fact, everything that came from his mouth in regard to his code and what he did was honest. It was one of the many things Yennefer most loved about him. He called her out on her flaws but at the same time respected them, knew who she was and had never tried to change her.

"You're thinking with something other than your heart. You remember why you wanted to become a Witcher to begin with, why you were so determined to learn to fight?" Triss's former talks of war and Ciri's immediate want to jump into it to avenge what had happened – both Ciri and Geralt had told her about it on separate occasions. "They're good people, Ciri, they don't just execute anyone for the sake of it."

Yennefer let her change the subject, though, let her push on as though it was enough, and nodded. The sorceress didn't let her pull away from her, walking her to Geralt's room so that they could see what they could find for Ciri to wear.

Ciri didn't bring it up again because she did not know how to justify her own defense of Kain and why he mattered so much to her to begin with. And the more she fumbled with her words, the more she was certain they would all brush it aside as some meaningless infatuation that would end the moment she caught sight of something new and pretty.

They headed to Geralt's room and Ciri rifled through one of the chests she knew he'd used for armor in the past, gathering a few pieces that might be able to be made into something different with the help of the sorceress – leather, chainmail, and steel among them. "I liked the armor Cerys lent me on Skellige, but I would prefer to protect more of my body than just my tits. Knowing Eredin that is not where his riders will strike, anyway."

"That's probably for the best," Yennefer supplied, unable to contain her amusement. "As we have a value for more than just those tits of yours." She glanced at the armor, gestured for the girl to straighten up, and helped her into one of the chest pieces to see how and where to modify it for her and how they could change it to make it fit like a glove.

Ciri stood, allowing the sorceress to dress her and take measurements, watching her as she moved around. "Does Geralt still not remember?"

Ciri was two sizes smaller than Geralt who'd been fighting demons and monsters most his life and build up a touch of mass along with muscle, making it so she practically swam in the armor.

"No. But I'm beginning to think it doesn't matter anymore. He—he seems to still seek me out." And the sex was still spectacular, although a lot more emotional for Yennefer. "Has he said anything?"

She helped Ciri out of the main piece, slipped the chainmail over her head so that it hung on her and Yennefer could see where it would need to be cinched, and then slowly began the altercations.

"That is progress, right?" Ciri asked, allowing Yen to move her as needed. "He has said nothing. Though we haven't actually had a chance to talk."

"I'm not sure what that is," Yennefer retorted honestly. "He could have kept Triss in Skellige with him, but he didn't—"

When the chainmail was cinched in place and curved to her chest in all the right places, the sorceress stepped back.

"How's it feel? Good?"

Ciri looked down at herself, considering. "Feels good. Like I can move but also won't be easily cleaved in two. And Triss could never compare with you," she added, and that was from someone who loved Triss, as well.

Her lack of hesitation in the comparison surely touched Yen – so much so that she hadn't even realized she had an insecurity about it, that she'd mentally compared what had anchored him to Triss before and kept her going back here and there when things were particularly difficult for Yennefer and Geralt. "Sometimes it could be said she's better than me. Humanity wise."

And Triss was. She had all the qualities, the understanding, the compassion at times as needed and a kind of parental quality niceness that Yennefer could hardly even try to replicate.

After Ciri's confirmation, Yennefer reached for another piece of armor, the leather that would hold it in place and looked like a dangling sack of potatoes with way too much to work with. She tugged at the straps to see how tight she could get them, what needed the magic needle to do and where it was most necessary.

"It doesn't feel too heavy?"

"You have humanity, Madam Yennefer," Ciri said softly, smiling down at her until she straightened and tugged on the leather straps, making Ciri gasp for breath until the sorceress adjusted them. "You are just more reserved. There is nothing wrong with that. I quite like it. No frills. No pretenses. And when you say you love me, it means more coming from you." Ciri paused for another consideration. "No, it's fine. I am very strong."

Again, she'd touched the sorceress, and for a second a brush of tears had warmed behind her eyes. What was going on? The types of emotions Yennefer was displaying was only those pregnant women went on about.

Ridiculous!

Yennefer guessed that the revelation just made her fear and know what she could lose if she wasn't able to fix this and something was, in fact, to happen between Geralt and her that would split them down the middle.

Yen shook it off quickly, refusing to delve into the unknown.

"You are," she agreed.

Another twitch of her fingers, and the leather had found its spot around Ciri's chest, securing in place for a minute like a choker to make sure that whoever attempted to slit her throat would fail. A nice design, but one Yen reconsidered before loosening it, peeling it from her, adding the second pieces of metal.

Fully getting into the craft, stepping back once she was done so that Ciri could look at herself in the mirror and decide whether or not she was comfortable in it.

"You sure you'll be able to fight in this? It's not your… regular style and the chainmail hangs a little low in the front—although it's going to give your thighs a lot of coverage."

Ciri moved to examine herself in the looking glass, shifting her weight from foot to foot so she could see every angle. A small smile bloomed on her face. She looked like a warrior.

"It's perfect," she said, doing some lunges for good measure to show Yen how easily she could move, rounding it off with a backwards somersault just to show off. "They will go for my legs, arms, and sides. They always do," she murmured, running her fingers over the armor, amazed by what Yen could do with that magic of hers.

Yennefer smiled at her display, loving how far she'd come and how much she'd continued to do despite the fact that she'd been away from them for so long.

She'd become a formidable fighter.

"And the face?" She reached out to touch what she was talking about, the scar Ciri had gained that was very similar to that of Giralt's and only further appeared to mark their destinies and that they belonged. "What shall we do with that?"

Ciri lowered her eyes self-consciously the moment Yen's fingertips touched her scar, and pulled away. Not from unkindness, but a great discomfort she had yet to overcome. "Leave it," she said, straightening and squaring her shoulders, turning to eye herself in the looking glass once more. "Or give me another. Maybe it will make me less of a target."

"Less of a target in what way?" Yennefer asked, softening her tone, letting Ciri pull away, reading her loathing toward the scar that most wore with honor. Not that there was any honor in being hunted.

"Wishful thinking, I suppose," Ciri said, almost absentmindedly. "It does not matter how ugly I am. Men will stick their cocks in anything…"

She shook free of that thought, of the memories, for they brought nothing she wanted to think about. She looked to the window, noting the sun's position on the sky.

"We should go. The trial will be starting." Ciri paused once more and softened a little, tentatively pulling Yen in for a hug. "Thank you for this."

The sorceress's heart dropped sympathetically at her cynical view of sex. Yen knew how hard that particular venture was, how hard it must have been for Ciri to be on the constant run, and everything she must have encountered.

It also made Yennefer angry as hell.

She drew the girl against her, hugging her tightly to her chest but didn't let her go.

"Do me a favor, Ciri. If and when the outcome of this trial goes a certain way—one you might not like, don't… don't run off, don't just disappear."

She pulled back and once again took Ciri's face into her hands, making sure that the girl could see how serious she was about that, how much it would hurt if Ciri did, and how worried Yennefer was.

"We will deal with it. _Together_."

How could Ciri make such a promise when she was so frightened of the outcome? How could she predict her own reactions when she could not even control her temper half the time?

And yet, she nodded. "I will not leave you to fight The Hunt alone." That she could promise.

She found Yen's hand with hers and headed out the door.

The Wild Hunt was the least of Yennefer's concerns in this scenario but she nodded, anyway, letting Ciri think that it was enough to appease, and trailed behind her as they headed out of Geralt's room.

* * *

When the door opened and Geralt walked in, Kain realized he must have nodded off at some point. His neck was screaming murder. He rubbed it wincing, got up.

"It's time," Geralt said, studying him a second, then led the way through the corridors Kain still remembered. Some he didn't quite recollect, either.

The Witcher brought him to the kitchen where Vesemir was discussing something that sounded like strategies with Ciri's Elf. Mostly it meant that Vesemir was talking and the Elf was allowing him and rarely put in some short remarks.

"I'll get the others," Geralt said, leaving Kain in their watchful company.

"You are having that trial, after all," Avallac'h remarked.

The older Witcher nodded. "What has to be done will be done."

"What about the time inconsistency? Have you found out a reason for it?"

"That we have not," Vesemir admitted, casting a glance of confused sadness Kain's way. "One thing at a time, as wise people say."

The Elf seemed to contemplate it, but gave no reaction.

Ciri released Yennefer's hand just before they entered the kitchen. It was not hard for her to be affectionate with the sorceress, but it was important that the men of this keep – the men who had last seen her as a young child – would now understand she was no longer the little girl they had known. Clutching her mother's hand in that instance seemed unwise.

Ciri stopped next to Kain and ran her gaze over Vesemir and Avallac'h, the latter quirking a smile at the sight of her new armor. Either in approval or mockery, she could not tell with him, anymore. "Where is Geralt?"

"He's gathering the other witchers, child," Vesemir said, settling at the head of the table. "We shall hold the trial to get it done. Postponing further wouldn't be a wise choice, all things considered."

A small smile of approval touched his mouth as he gave her a full once-over.

"That is quite some work with the armor. No one could have done any better. Yennefer's work, I assume? It is good, very good."

Avallac'h displayed no reaction aside from moving his cold scrutiny between the people present. "Zireael won't partake in the battle," he said in a tone that merely notified of something as obvious as the color of the sky.

Ciri attempted to offer Vesemir a smile but didn't manage. Avallac'h wiped it off her face before it could come. "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. This is when I am at my best. When I am actually of any use," she told the Elf, glaring daggers at him. "You will not take away my right to fight for my own life!"

"Avallac'h isn't entirely wrong," Yennefer added, mulling over the thought, trying to decide which way she wanted to fall on this subject.

She knew Ciri was capable of protecting herself, of fight, but she also knew that to have Ciri get in close with the Wild Hunt and one of them possibly harming her was placing her exactly where they wanted her.

"You'll stay with me. I plan on shielding the place, making sure that once we've those inside, that they won't be able to break through or breech any further into the keep—"

Avallac'h was unperturbed by the outburst; his posture of an Elf statue with his hands behind his back didn't shift. "I'm afraid it is that kind of risk we cannot afford," he said. "All these people have gathered here to prevent them from taking you, and it is that you should respect before your own desires, is it not?"

"Ciri," Vesemir began, eager to squelch the conflict, "we all know your skill and how eager you are to put it to use. All of us who had the honor of training you and seeing you grow do know it. No one can take that away from you. But Avallac'h might be right about this. You are their sole target, and it's unwise to offer them such an easy access."

"They will merely throw all their army's efforts on cutting you off and taking you away at once," Avallac'h said. "I'm certain that – even despite your ambition to battle them – you understand how easily broken your confidence can be in this particular endeavor."

Ciri looked between them all with a new sense of betrayal, ire and indignation rising once again. There had been a lot of it over the last few days. "You said it yourself: they have an army, we do not. Everyone needs to fight."

She could already tell this was an argument she would not win. Not when each and every one of them was determined to keep her away.

She hated it. She hated it all so much. She had waited for so long, running and escaping like a frightened mouse, and now that she might finally get to confront her nightmares head on once and for all, she was being shoved away and forced to let everyone else fight her battle in her stead.

It did not just hurt her pride. It hurt everything that she was and heightened her belief that this would be her life always.

Ciri averted her gaze from them all and folded her arms across her chest, feeling distinctly uncomfortable in her armor now, for what was even the point of it? "Does not matter," she murmured, more to herself than any of them, defeated. "Why should I have any say in what happens to me?"

Kain felt for her, felt her emotions rolling thickly around like reddish smoke. But it was not his place to open his mouth at all.

"We are holding a council on the battle after the trial," Vesemir said with a softening expression. "We shall all be there, including you, Ciri. You do have a say along with each of us present."

"It does not change the lack of point in having Zireael on the battlefield like a carrot for a donkey," Avallac'h said. "I shall join for the council." He turned and walked away.

Ciri said nothing, could already imagine how that council would go. It was pointless.

She moved away from them all and leaned against the wall nearest the door Avallac'h had just left through, waiting for Geralt to return with Lambert, Eskel, and Coen.

Yennefer moved to stand beside Ciri, but unlike the times before, this time she didn't take the girl's hand, allowing her the chance to stand tall on her own, to watch as the witchers got prepared.

Geralt led the witchers procession in a few minutes later. Lambert's eyes locked on Kain with recognition closely followed by ire. His face creased; he pressed his lips and proceeded to one of the chairs at the table.

Geralt stopped next to Ciri and Yennefer. "I have to ask you to leave. This will be a closed trial. How it should be. We won't take long – time is of the essence."

"I want to stay," she told Geralt and before he could argue, continued. "I was trained as a witcher, this keep was my home, I carry a witcher amulet. And I have killed my fair share of monsters, just like the rest of you. I just… haven't received coin for it." Ciri straightened, looking her mentor in the eyes. "Please don't exclude me from this, as well."

The witchers at the table exchanged glances, except for Letho who looked less than interested in what was going on.

"You're too emotional about this, Ciri," Geralt said. "Here we have to determine what's right, and with as neutral an approach as necessary. Justice cannot be dealt from passion. It might be best for you to wait with Yennefer and the rest."

"So are you," she pointed out. "You knew the victim, after all. And you've already made your feelings about Kain quite clear. None of you are neutral in this matter."

"I know him, too, child," Vesemir said. "And Lambert knew the deceased. But we are witchers first and foremost. We have been through mutations, unlike you, and our emotions work not quite the same. I do not belittle your concern or your wish to see it through, but this might not be a good thing for you to see and worry yourself about before the battle. This matter shall be resolved with dignity and justice as our order commands, you have our word on that."

"Yeah, right," Lambert grumbled, shooting Kain an evil eye. "Dignity. As much dignity as anyone stabbing his partner in the heart with his silver deserves, anyway."

"What battle?" Ciri shot at Vesemir, annoyed at how they all kept dismissing her no matter the topic. "You have all just made it very clear I will have nothing to do with the battle. That I will sit pretty and wait.

"As for the trial; the less I know the more I will worry."

"As I also have made clear was that the council on the battle shall still be held," Vesemir said, his voice getting firmer like in the days of the trainings. "And that you shall be a part of it – not a mute, sitting-being-pretty part. And that stands."

Geralt shot an unwitting glance at Yennefer, as if instinctually for support, but then sighed, focusing on Ciri. No one was helping him with this.

"I understand where you're coming from," he said. "And I do agree that you have your medallion as not a trinket but a symbol of what is yours by right. But due to your not being the acting witcher living by the code, you may stay on one condition: you are to sit in silence and have no vote. An observer's role. Does that satisfy you? If not, you will have to wait outside."

"That is fair," Vesemir nodded.

Yennefer met Geralt's gaze and gifted him a small smile. Other than that, there wasn't anything else to do. He'd decided to go this route and he knew Ciri would kick up a fuss about it.

The good thing was that they'd given her a fair choice and chance and that it was up to her now to decide what she wanted to do with it.

Yennefer, on the other hand, had slowly made her way for the door to give them the privacy they'd requested so they could get on with their trial.

It wasn't entirely satisfactory, but Ciri knew it was the best offer she would get.

She nodded her confirmation and silently moved across the room to take the free chair next to Coen, hands in her lap, her sights set on Kain and Yennefer's retreating back.

Once the door shut behind the sorceress and Geralt took his seat next to Lambert across from Kain, Vesemir cleared his throat, leaning his elbows on the table.

"Given how dare the time is, we shall not dwell on the description of the case too much, since we all are familiar with it. But to resolve any possible questions of those who might not be fully familiar with the accusation, I ask Lambert – as the one closest to the group the deceased belonged to – lay the matter out to us, as briefly as possible."

Lambert's mouth twitched, his eyes swept over the accused briefly. "The deceased, as you call him, was Dirk, a man I knew, a man who my best friend Aiden considered his best friend in turn. They indeed had a group, all students of Cat School, but they worked their contracts on their own arrangement. Dirk – whenever he wasn't working alone or with Aiden – often shared his jobs with the man I accuse of murder today, known as White Cat.

"The accusation states that White Cat and Dirk took a contract in the Village of Hunton to kill a griffin that by that time had already slaughtered two people, a man and a woman, by shredding them to pieces right in the middle of the village.

"When the two witchers baited the beast and began the battle, White Cat suddenly turned on his own brother witcher and slew him in cold blood with a silver sword like a filthy demonic thing that needed cleansing." Lambert paused, casting a disdainful look Kain's way, his mouth distorting as if he could spit. "And then White Cat ran away like the coward he was, leaving the sword in his brother's still warm body, and so the villagers found the scene in a few hours when they dared show faces from their homes.

"It's not only I, but all of us witchers believe that the crime like that, as nakedly obvious and malicious as it fucking looks, should be punished with the same means the accused used to commit it: a silver sword through the heart."

He set his jaw and reached for the scotch bottle someone had left on the table from earlier.

Already Ciri was having a hard time keeping her mouth shut. She felt a mix of sympathy for Lambert for losing his friend, and annoyance that he was clearly not as neutral as the witchers had stated they were.

And, in addition, he was drinking? Not a good move.

She folded her arms across her chest, looking between Vesemir and Geralt, assuming they would at least give Kain the chance to tell his side of the story.

"The way it looks is dire, indeed," Vesemir sighed, scratching the stubble on his cheek. "But even when it is like that on witcher trials, we never decide before both sides of the story are known. For we all are aware there are more facets than one to any part of life and death." He looked to Geralt, continuing, "I am also aware some witchers tried to investigate the scene. Was anything else found there?"

"All evidence I found at the time pointed to the way Lambert described it happened," Geralt said, shooting a fleeting look at Ciri. "I have not found anything contradicting this story, considering the information I was given before I looked into it."

Lambert scoffed. "What other version can there be? People lie and what you see etched into the soil does not." He drank.

Ciri bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from scoffing, likewise clenching her fists to stop herself from smacking the bottle out of Lambert's hand.

She folded one leg over the other, her foot jiggling impatiently.

"Well, now that we've established the case itself," said Vesemir, "it is time to hear the accused and his account of what happened.

Lambert gave another derisive scoff and refilled his glass. Eskel shook his head solemnly. Letho was examining his nails, while Coen eyeballed Ciri furtively, having noticed how tense she was.

"Dirk asked me to help with the contract because Aiden was busy at the time, it's true," Kain began, looking down at the table surface in front of him. He kept seeing it all in his inner eye. "Only that it wasn't the solid contract – it was an unfinished business, more like. Three days before that, Aiden and Dirk received a contract for a griffin living on the mountain. And not because it was killing people or stealing their cows – just because it was a beast and the village people wanted witchers to do a preventive strike.

"Dirk and Aiden waited for one of the griffins to leave, then came up there and slaughtered the female with two cubs, then burned the nest. Then they took the money and went on with their lives. And a day later, the male returned and attacked the village.

"When the villagers came to Dirk, he said it was another griffin, altogether, probably a rabid one. So that would be yet a brand new contract. They paid again, and Dirk came to me, because Aiden was busy elsewhere already.

"When Dirk asked to help him, he never told me there was another griffin. I found out about it when we started the fight. The griffin didn't fare too well and soon enough was bleeding badly from Dirk's cuts. Dirk was yelling for me to 'get in there' and deal the final blow. I moved toward the beast, and then I… I just… I don't know what happened, but all of a sudden I felt it all at once: rage, despair, pain and fury… and sorrow so deep it only meant an irretrievable loss. I saw the whole story in shreds of visions and a whole lot of his pain and betrayal and fury that overwhelmed me.

"Dirk was yelling at me, but I could barely hear him, my head pounding while piecing everything together. The griffin knew Dirk was one of those who burnt his nest – he knew by the smell, I guess. He wanted him dead – he barely even saw me next to him. But he was giving up. He hadn't been eating those two days, he was weak, bleeding, and just… done. Giving up. At that moment, he reconciled himself with death."

Kain swallowed, the pain of memory swirling around his chest like a poisonous cloud.

"When Dirk went for the killing blow, I put myself between them, and my sword went into his heart. I saw his eyes when he was dying, and there was not a sliver of understanding why I was doing it. There was a betrayal as deep as the beast felt. But no one ever knows that beasts _do_ feel and understand…" He sighed shakily. "I left the sword, and I don't even remember much of what happened. I felt like I my head would explode any moment.

"I think the link I caught with the griffin allowed us to just leave together. He was weak, and we didn't get too far, but we hid well enough to recover. And next we went to Brokilon."

Ciri listened with rapt attention to Kain's side of the story, heart constricting in pain at the vivid scene that bloomed before her inner eye.

She knew it could not truly compare, that Kelpie would never be hunted the way Griffin was, but the emotions were the same.

What she would not do for that loyal, lovely horse…

Surely Geralt had to understand. And Vesemir, too. They never killed for the sake of killing.

Ciri was less sure about Lambert, didn't think he would see things the same way.

She straightened in her seat, mouth dry and heartbeat elevated, trying to send Kain strength and courage (even if he seemed to be doing fine on his own) while controlling her own raging emotions.

When the pause stretched out and witchers seemed to be contemplating and undecided, Lambert slammed his empty mug on the table and cursed.

"Are you fucking seriously debating this horseshit?!" he demanded. "Aiden never told me about it, and he would – just as he did dozens of times when they screwed up this job or that."

"We both know he truly didn't see it necessary to tell you everything, Lambert," Geralt put in, his frown deep and dark. "Don't forget now about his own demise, for I was there with you, and there's a lot that surfaced then that you didn't have that clear of a clue about before."

"Oh fuck yourself, Geralt!" Lambert yelled. "The man was my friend! I knew him! He'd go and clear up that mess himself along with Dirk. If he went to do that other case—"

"Which involved those famous three nights in Novigrad brothel spree?" Eskel asked grimly. The scar creeping from his mouth up his cheek made it seem he was sneering a little. "Even I would pick that over an enraged griffin business any day. Let alone a Cat witcher. We all know you Felines' passion for pleasures."

"With all due respect to our Schools and their differences," said Vesemir, "it won't be amiss to point out that Cat witchers indeed have gained a reputation someone of our profession wouldn't be proud of. Be it contracts or even political matters. That version is a plausible one, however against it some of us might be set."

Ciri eyed Lambert's outburst with a slight frown, wondering if that is what she looked like whenever she threw a fit.

Her heart skipped a beat when Geralt, Eskel, and Vesemir chimed in, all seeming a lot more willing to reconsider the matter than they had been.

She idly toyed with her bracelet, her gaze moving around the group of men in turn, praying they would all dismiss the case, or at the very least make his punishment a lenient one.

"Aw my ploughing arse!" Lambert cried out, throwing his hands up as he leaned back into his chair. "Who can swear that this shit is actually true? A fucking griffin and the very one who slew his friend. Our friend! So what, we send for the stinking beast to question it? Don't make me laugh. A murder is a murder. No two fucking ways about it. Besides, that griffin did kill two people – that is a fact. So that was what witchers had to do – kill the killer. And instead this whoreson killed his friend and escaped with the killer bird. And what the hell are you people debating here?"

"Have you seen the nest, Geralt?" Vesemir asked. "Anything to support this version?"

Geralt shook his head a no, his face apologetic. "No. No one told me there was a nest, let alone more than one griffin. I investigated the places people showed and told me about. Unfortunately, it's all I know."

"Not grand," Eskel muttered, studying the table in front of him. Coen sighed.

"Because there was no fucking nest," Lambert added, refilling his mug.

"That nest and its destruction was the reason the griffin slaughtered those people," Kain said in a calm voice, still staring at the table in front of him. He didn't have to look up at Lambert to read his expression. "It was revenge. He knew that humans did it to his family while he was away hunting wild goats to feed them."

"Do we really need to sit on our asses wasting time on this pile of horseshit when another pile is rolling toward us to sweep us off the earth?" Letho's drawling voice commanded silence and all gazes except Kain's went to him. He was still cleaning under his nails with the tip of his hunting knife as if there was no worry in the whole world for him. "We weren't born yesterday. We know how most Cats do business. And now you want to execute one more able sword over a ploughing Cat that went with his greed and got two people killed over a job he failed. In the best tradition of rogue Cats, at that. I won't even start to list all the cases I've heard of when Cats got civilians killed over jobs they lied about but took coin for.

"But sure, what the heck, kill this one, too, and call it a day.

"I don't like to judge, but this is bullshit."

Ciri nodded several times at the big brute's speech, unsure of who he was or where they knew him from, but grateful, nonetheless.

Lambert would not be swayed, she knew that. But if he was out-voted…

"Having heard the other version now, I must admit that it does make sense, as some of you agree," Vesemir said. "We cannot deny the murder of one witcher by another's hand and sword, nor can we deny the treachery of the deceased's work, for all the facts Gwyncath's listed do explain the griffin's behavior, as well as the pattern of that particular Cats' group that we have found out about later.

"I also have to point out here, that whenever one of our order comes upon a witcher who cheats and brings demise on innocent people's heads – people who pay him – it is also our duty to execute certain measures to prevent that witcher from doing such thing again. For this, too, is a crime against the very nature of what we all stand for."

"Aw shit," Lambert groaned and drank.

Vesemir ignored him. "Therefore, taking all of the above into consideration, I am inclined to emphasize how, had our order found out about a cheated job that has killed two innocent people, we would be obliged to take action and issue a trial for such witcher who betrayed his code.

"In this case, I am inclined to rule that punishment executed by another witcher's sword. Silver or not – that was not quite an intentional offence on Gwyncath's part, we all see that, but one made in a rush of battle. With all that in mind, I wish to vote for releasing the accused, for his crime came as secondary and a direct consequence of the crime Dirk had committed before.

"Who's for it?" He raised his hand.

So did Letho, Eskel, Coen and Geralt. Lambert cursed under his breath and shook his head. His eyes stabbed a glare Kain's way.

"It's lucky it wasn't Aiden," he said. "I would've killed you then with no fucking trials."

A part of Ciri was tempted to leap to her feet with a quite uncharacteristic girly squeal, her face all smiles and sunshine, but like with her earlier anger she tried to contain herself. She couldn't stop the sigh of relief that escaped her as the vote passed, however.

She got up from her chair and smoothed her hair back from her face, squeezing Geralt's arm in gratitude once near enough, even if she knew his decision had not been made because of her. "What now?" she asked, assuming she was free to talk again, and looked to Kain. "I'm not sure it is wise for you to leave until we are certain The Wild Hunt has been defeated." If for some bizarre reason, The Hunt didn't show up or decided to take a detour by Skellige, Eredin would find him. She was certain of it.

"You are free, Gwyncath," Vesemir added as everybody was getting up from their seats. "You can decide whether you want to go or stay here and fight with us – in case you and Ciri have come to be friends, or so I've been told."

"I've got nowhere to go, so I'll stay," Kain said. "You need fighters, and this place has been my second home at one point. It won't be forgotten. I would have protected it then – I shall do so now, if you'll have me."

"That is decided, then," Vesemir nodded. "I shall gather everybody in the main hall for the last council."

"I'll help," Coen said as the witchers followed their elder.

"Let's see if those chests with armor sets are still around from those… long-ago days," Geralt said, beckoning the Cat to follow. "This leather looks nice and warm, but would barely be harder than butter when one of those Hunt swords get you."

"No objections here," Kain said, falling into step with him.

This was all working out rather nicely – except for the part where they might all die in a few hours, of course. Ciri smiled watching Geralt lead Kain away, both of them carrying much less tension now. Almost like they were old friends.

She didn't follow, instead heading outside to the courtyard. It would take Vesemir a bit of time to gather everyone and more often than not he tended to get distracted on the way. It gave her a few minutes to sharpen Swallow against the whetstone outside.

When the door to the room they'd been holed up in opened and the witchers emerged, Yennefer had to admit she was surprised to see the boy free and not in chains or some kind of fisted grip.

They almost looked civil.

Yennefer walked away in search of Keira who'd been yelling at her for the past fifteen minutes about being crazy, a bitch and unhinged. Yennefer didn't disagree, settling in to work on her broken limb as best she could—although whatever Triss had done had already contributed and healed it a great deal. Yennefer just wanted to make sure that when that frosted hell came down on them with its full force, Keira'd be able to take it and not crumble because of some irrational outburst.

When Yennefer was sure the blonde'd be okay, she got up, following Vesemir who'd attempted to gather them all together so that they could discuss their next plan of action.

* * *

"Looks like it could've been yours," Geralt said, surveying Kain once the Cat had clasped the Cat School chest piece's straps.

"Most of us were of similar built," he said. "This set looks rather new, surprisingly…"

"Had a bunch of new ones made for the Tournament in both schools," Geralt said, his brow furrowing immediately as the bizarre idea returning to his mind. "Still can't believe you've been there."

"I can't believe in the time span," Kain said, tightening the belts.

"There must be an explanation," Geralt said. "I would've believed in your lies, had Vesemir not actually confirmed this. And now…"

Kain looked up at him from the armor straps, considering him. "You remember me yourself now, don't you."

The Witcher gave a weak shrug, frowning. "I sort of do. When I saw you in the tavern for the first time, it struck me with some… familiar sense. I couldn't place it. Not until I saw how Vesemir looks at you. He was more involved with Cats when they came visiting. Gweld and I stuck more to our own. Or, well…"

"You made exceptions for our Felines," Kain finished for him with a wry sneer. "They told stories."

Geralt couldn't help a small smirk himself. "Oh did they?"

"They were keeping some scores, I was never too interested to keep track of their gossips."

"Scores, huh," he murmured, and smiled a short smile. "Gweld was guessing as much."

"They liked him. That I remember. Especially Belka – he was her favorite 'pup'."

Geralt locked his eyes on Kain, stilling for a moment. "You were there… Hells be damned, you truly were there."

"I was. I don't know how – all things considered – but I was."

Geralt studied him for a long bit, then bent to close the dusty old chest. "If we survive this, we'll find out."

"First thing's first," Kain said, observing the swords selection. Some brand new, just like sets of armor made and never used after the massacre no one had predicted.

"I might yet come to like you," Geralt said, and picked one of the swords from the holders so thickly covered in dust they seemed to be made out of ashes. He held it out to the Cat – the pommel's shape was the Cat head. "Might work better on the Hunters than the one you came with. Besides, it's fitting."

"I haven't touched a silver sword ever since…" He looked at it, but hesitated to touch it. Geralt's hand holding it shifted closer.

"That piece of history is closed, Gwyncath."

"It's Kain," he corrected, and took the sword. He pulled the blade halfway out, admiring the work. He brushed away the dust and adjusted the straps around his chest, the pommel sticking from behind his shoulder. "I'd rather have my old one back, as well. It's not that old."

"As you wish." Geralt started out of the armory; Kain picked up the discarded Skellige wolf-fur set, and followed.

* * *

It wasn't long before Eskel entered the courtyard to gather those of them out there for the meeting. Ciri sheathed her sword and followed him and a rowdy group of Skelligers back inside, not especially looking forward to this council but able to recognize it was important.

She found a seat next to Yennefer, eyeing Lambert who looked even more agitated than he had earlier. Ciri expected at least three curse-filled outbursts from him during this gathering as well.

Kain had discarded his Skellige-made leather set in the room they appointed for him and joined Geralt on his way to the main hall.

Two sorceresses, Ciri, Vesemir, Lambert, Mousesack and Eskel sat around the table with a map on it. The rest of the motley crew stood and sat around close so they could hear.

Kain stopped beside Geralt, studying the map.

Unlike the time before, Yennefer grabbed a gentle hold of Ciri's hand beneath the table, giving it a squeeze, letting her know in no uncertain terms that she was happy things had worked out with her new friend and that Yen was still here. That it hadn't completely been destroyed.

As soon as everyone had gathered, Vesemir stood. The room fell silent.

"Thank you all for coming," the old witcher said, regarding each and every one of them. "As you know, we are short on time and should get right down to the battle plans. However, I am also aware not everyone here has a good grasp on who, or what, The Wild Hunt is. So let's start there. Avallac'h?"

The Elf stepped forward into the light. "Dearg Ruadhri, or The Red Riders, is an army of Aen Elle elves. Ancient expert warriors with a long history of invasion and enslavement to further the survival of their race. Our race. Many among them are mages, so prepare for battle magics.

Their goal will be to kill as many of us as possible and to take Zireael, to gain access to her powers."

Ciri shrunk a little in her seat, uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on her before their attention returned to the Elf.

"They will travel here through portals, five or six at a time, including their infamous hounds. Like their masters, the hounds can be killed by sword or magic, but do not let them touch you. You will end up with frostbite.

"There will be plenty of warriors to dispose of, or as the King himself, Eredin, calls them: canon fodder. But other than ensuring they do not get a hold of Zireael, our priority should be the King and his three generals. Without them, the riders will be no more. Eredin is the ones with the power to transport his warriors from one world to another. Cut off the snake's head, the rest of the body will wither."

Geralt nodded a mute appreciation for Avallac'h's input and surveyed the people. "Before we attempt to cut any heads, we have some work to do to prepare for those heads' arrival.

"Our keep is not the worst place to lead a battle, but it's been a very long time since it was hard to breach, and some things in it need to be compensated."

"I'd name the hole in the wall the first in the list," Vesemir said. "We'll have to fix it before the attack begins to the best of our abilities."

"A bit of magic could help there, I reckon," Keira said. "I shall assist."

Geralt nodded, and continued, "We need to prevent them from arriving directly to our yard, or this little war campaign will be over very soon and not in our favor." He looked at Yennefer and Triss. "Any suggestions?"

Yennefer nodded. "A magic shield. It'll force them to land outside of the keep and give us a shadow of control, but I'll be useless for anything else – I won't be able to tend to their navigational portals."

"I can take care of those," Lambert said. "It'll force them into the forest and into our playing field. No one knows these lands better than those of us who were bred here."

"I'll help," Coen offered quietly.

"If you make your main focus the closing of the portals," Yennefer continued, "I can provide you both with invisibility amulets. If we're able to limit the number of their forces by limiting how many make it through the portals, that'll significantly help. However, you won't be able to engage with the enemy. They'll be able to smell, sense and possibly hear you and any attack will disrupt its power."

Lambert didn't appear too happy with the non-physical aspect of the plan while Coen looked more determined to make it work.

"And if anything goes wrong. I'll be there to provide fire support," Triss added.

Both nodded and all eyes veered back to Geralt.

"What do we do if they break through your shield?" Ciri asked Yennefer. "I don't doubt your power, but The Hunt has very capable mages of their own, and I assume even a sorceress as skilled as yourself will not be able to keep it up for hours and hours? It will be draining, won't it?"

"We don't have hours upon hours," Geralt put in. "We have to do all that is in our power to manage to break through as many of their forces as we can before they get close."

"Which brings us to the forest around and what we can do there," Lambert said.

"We'll dig some traps around the perimeter," Roche said. "In the best traditions of the Blue Stripes."

"With sharpened spikes on the bottom," Ves added.

Geralt nodded.

"I'll get back to laboratory and make more potions," Vesemir said. "Someone needs to go see if anything in the armory can be used."

"I'll make more bombs to close the portals with and blast some of them around the forest," Eskel said.

"I'll help with that," Lambert said.

"I'll see about the armory," Coen said.

"We're sitting on a large deposit of gas here," Mousesack said. "When the attack starts, I can make cracks in the earth and light them up."

"Good," Geralt said.

"I'll see what explosives I can cook up to blow their ploughin arses in the air," Zoltan added.

"I'll look around to make sure we have no holes in the keep unnoticed," Geralt said.

Yennefer listened to them bounce back and forth with ideas, absorbing each to make sure she didn't miss a stitch of the plan, and then addressed Ciri. "Extremely draining. But as Geralt said… it isn't likely that we'll be able to hold them off for hours. They will break through our defenses eventually, I only hope that I'll be able to maintain it long enough for us to make a near perfect opportunity for one of them to take the snake's head."

Ciri nodded to Yennefer's response, then looked to Geralt. "I will help you." She wanted to spend some time with him before the battle, like she had done Yennefer.

"One more key thing," Avallac'h said. "Zireael, or Cirilla has to stay away from the battle and thus ensure that they do not get their prize so easily. I shall take it upon myself to protect her with my power, as I have been for a while."

"All right," Vesemir nodded. "It will be safer inside the keep – at least for some time. While Yennefer's shield is holding."

Yennefer studied Avallac'h.

She didn't mind so much his declaration and want to protect Ciri as she couldn't do it herself and Geralt would be really wrapped up, but it was strange to her, that with as much as he knew about who they were fighting, he'd chosen to stand back.

This was his battle as much as it was theirs.

Why wouldn't he be on the front lines so that they could finally end this?

How badly she wanted into his head.

Yennefer nodded and then threw another glance in Geralt's direction, wondering if he was thinking the same or if like Vesemir he'd accepted the offer.

"Then we all know what to do." She needed to check her magic supplies, make sure she had enough amulets for those that would be running around outside and all the ingredients. "We should get started."

Ciri eyed the Elf, trying to tamper down her annoyance and her own need to be on the battlefield. "Not inside the keep," she countered Vesemir's train of thought. "I will agree to remain behind on one condition only: I will be on the roof of the highest tower. I need to be able to see what is happening. Otherwise the uncertainty will drive me mad."

Even though Kain had been aware all his life that his mother wanted him hidden as much as possible from some threats he couldn't even fully comprehend, he never quite found himself in a situation akin to Ciri's where he had to be kept behind people's backs and take their sacrifices for granted.

Kain could sympathize with her rebellion. He would have felt as bad as she was allowed to feel.

However, he wasn't quite sure about the stakes in this and couldn't judge. They might be right, considering he was by now familiar with how far her temper could drive her.

"This is unacceptable," Avallac'h argued in the calmest tone full of confidence of its right. "They are mages, Zireael. If they see you and know where you are, it takes a spell or two to end this. You cannot be anywhere on the towers or on battlefield."

"I know how you feel, Ciri," Vesemir said, his face softening as he looked her in the eye. "I know it's hard to stay behind when you're so eager to battle for your life. But remember what the most important thing is when you hunt a beast or a creature much stronger and faster than yourself?"

Ciri ground her teeth at Avallac'h and flashed a look at Vesemir when he chimed it. He did not know how she felt. None of them had any idea what this was like, no matter how much they tried to convince themselves otherwise.

And the Hunt's soldiers were not faster than her. She could literally move in the blink of an eye. Of course, none of them (other than Avallac'h) knew. They had never witnessed it with their own eyes.

She ignored Vesemir's question for now and rose to her feet, knuckles resting on the table as she leaned over to consider him and the Elf both. "Then allow me to ask a different question. If we are not to observe what happens outside the keep, out in the courtyard, how shall we prepare for an attack should the rest of you fail to hold them off? If they suddenly break down the doors and descend upon us, all will be lost." Her eyes bore into Avallac'h's. "If you and I could take them all on alone, we would have done so long ago."

"Keira and I shall be on the towers watching out for our perimeter," Triss chimed in, "to see when our forces pull back from the forest so we could provide back-up fire. Literal fire in my case. I shall rain it down upon them while the witchers pull back."

"That would be very helpful, thank you, Triss," Geralt said. She smiled and nodded. He turned to Ciri. "We all know it's hard for you. But you need to understand that we're all here to provide you most support and protection we can muster. And to make it all work as intended, you need to stay away from the battle. We can't let them even glimpse you. That is the point."

"Precisely," Avallac'h felt obliged to add, his face as impassive as a lizard's.

Ciri stared them all down, one by one, looking for someone, anyone, who might actually see things from her point of view. She did not find any.

She gave a smile devoid of warmth and pushed away from the table. "Then I wish you all the best of luck. If you should need me, which you won't, I shall be upstairs, hiding in my bed under the covers." Ciri blew a stray lock of ashen hair out of her eyes, her face hot as she strode away calling over her shoulder, "And let me remind you what you fight for; to prevent the end of the world. If any of you think you are fighting for my life, you are wrong. I died long ago."

She was a source of power, and a memory. Nothing more. Something that had been abundantly clear the moment she set foot back at Kaer Morhen.

Ciri wiped away angry tears as started away, hating them all and hating herself even more for not being able to just be docile and compliant for once.

"Let her be on the wall while the Hunt is in the woods," Kain said, and looked to Geralt. "Give her at least that much. You know you should. When the Hunt breaches inside, she can go hide and be safer. But before they do – it's more damaging to her than helping anything at all."

Geralt frowned, probably questioning inwardly how come Kain could pipe in about the kid he helped raise. Kain saw in his eyes, however, that he was reconsidering, because he knew her even better than the Cat did. A rebellious Ciri was not something that he wanted to enable.

"Makes sense," he conceded eventually and cast a look at Ciri. "When they breach, you have to go inside and stay with Avallac'h. Do we understand each other?"

Ciri paused with her back to them all, filled with too much anger and self-loathing to look at them all. And as much as she felt grateful for Kain's input, it infuriated her to no end it had to be a witcher to make the same point she had attempted, for someone to actually listen. "Perfectly," she said before continuing on her way. She needed a moment to herself to calm the rage that swirled inside her like a storm of fire.

Her answer felt like a lash, but Geralt did understand. If even Gwyncath managed to learn as much about her character in two days, Geralt was familiar with it on a deeper level. He had to know better than anyone how dangerous it was for Ciri when she was refused something she thought she needed. She would do it anyway, but at what cost?

"I brought some stuff with me," Zoltan added. "Barrels, too. We can set 'em around the possible places they'd breach and make a few blasts along the bastards' way. I'll get busy with that."

Geralt nodded. "Remember, Eredin cannot get his hands on Ciri. That is most important. Now, here's the plan of the fortress for those unfamiliar with it. We'll try to stop them where we can. As far away as we can. But if anything goes wrong, we abandon the outer courtyard and fall back to the keep where we hold our last stand. If we fail there – then we fail completely."

"Let's hope our forest party takes care of as many of them as possible," Lambert said.

"Yes. You make the bombs for us and stay inside the keep to provide more support in our base. I'll go to the woods. Also Letho, Eskel, Kain and Coen. We will be aware of where the trapping pits will be, so we will try to lead some into them. Triss shall provide fire back-up."

She nodded. "When you start to fall back, I shall cover your retreat to the best of my abilities."

"That is it for now, then," Vesemir concluded, getting up. "There's a lot to do in preparation, let's not waste any more time. I'll go back to potions for the witchers."

"None for me," Kain said. Geralt and Lambert turned surprised eyes to him. Vesemir was taken aback, as well.

"You have mutation, do you not?" he asked.

"No."

Geralt leaned in, peering into his eyes. "No one even thought you might not be," he said, flabbergasted. "Your eyes seemed a bit unusual being hazel, but it doesn't always work the same way on Aen Seidhe. So we thought—"

"Our masters kept it to themselves," Kain said. "I mostly looked the part, so they let the other schools believe I was one. I didn't use signs, but used my own abilities instead. It's as good as."

Geralt scowled, but nodded curtly. "Another question for later if we have later. You fight like one – I know as much, so that's enough for now."

"Until he falls for one of the hounds and starts slashing us instead," Lambert muttered.

"Enough of this," Vesemir snapped. "Everybody has their tasks. Let us begin." He started away from the table, heading for the laboratory.

Everybody else got up and began to disperse according to their jobs.

* * *

Ciri took a seat on her cot, elbows on her thighs and face in her hands, trying to calm herself to the best of her ability. Even if she had been forbidden to participate in the fight, it did not mean she would not have to raise her sword in self-defense. And Geralt had taught her never to enter a fight when angry. It meant you would lose, almost every time.

But it was hard. Harder than ever to cool her temper. Her hands trembled from the effort.

She inhaled deeply and lay down, gaze set on the stone ceiling, deciding to count the cracks in the material as a means of distracting herself.


	12. Chapter 12

After the battle plans had been laid out, the last tasks given and thoughts shared, Yennefer waited until the last of the group had broken away, and went in search of Geralt.

"I need Foglets if I'm going to be making invisibility amulets. Care for a hunt?"

Geralt nodded at Eskel who he was talking to, and the latter went away to join the others outside.

"I was going to be helping Eskel and Letho with the traps. It will take some time.

"Why don't you ask Kain and Ciri. Kain is as capable a witcher as any of us, as it turns out, and Ciri will be happy to be of at least some use, which might spare us some complaints and sulking later."

"I don't want to keep you." She really didn't. There wasn't really any time to waste. "I'll ask them, but for now, you haven't filled me in on the details of what went on with the trial. I know the end was happy. He's alive and we don't have a corpse to clear away. But uh, is that it?"

"I'm not sure he'd be executed right away had the outcome been sadder," he admitted. "He told us his story. The Cat Witcher he killed didn't finish the contract properly - killed the griffin female and cubs and not the male - and the griffin killed two people as a result. In vengeance.

"Gwyncath, or Kain, had a… I don't know, some kind of a connection to the beast at the moment of battle. He read it all from there and killed the other witcher under the influence of what he saw and felt." Geralt shrugged. "I wouldn't believe it much, but I had you happen to me once with a vengeance of yours you directed with my hand.

"Vesemir ruled it as forgivable crime under the circumstances. All but Lambert voted in favor. He's unhappy with letting the Cat go."

"And you?" she asked, not really interested in anyone else's interpretation, stepping closer to him. She hadn't forgotten about what she made him do back then, she'd needed him, and he'd done it more efficiently that she ever could have. "How do you feel about what's happened? Do you agree with Vesemir or Lambert?"

He gave it a thought, glancing under his feet as he did.

"I understood his reasoning. Being a half-blood, he ought to have some abilities he might not always be able to predict or fully control. It's possible.

"I voted along with Vesemir. Like others did. Lambert was alone.

"And I didn't do it for Ciri. Not really. I did it because some sort of gut feeling inclines me to believe him.

"I remember him back from the Tournament. It still feels impossible, but I think I do now. He was one of their best, but he also fought fairly. Not all other Cats did."

Not for a second did she think Ciri had anything to do with his decision to spare the boy. Or his vote. He'd been pretty determined to drag him onto the trail podium and despite what she'd intended before, he'd still gone ahead and done it. Because that's who he was and always had been. A good man, with a good heart and superior code of honor.

Yennefer took another step toward him. "What do you think about him in this fight? You believe we can trust him?"

"If bits and glimpses of what I remember are true, he's as much a witcher as any of us are. He's a good addition as a sword.

"As for trust…" He regarded her closely. "What do you mean? You felt something to make you doubt?"

She'd never met a witcher who wasn't proficient with a sword, so the fact that they had an additional combatant worked in their favor. "No, nothing like that or even close to it. Then again, I literally spent five minutes with the boy. I just wanted to know your take on him since you were so worried before."

"It's Ciri who's involved here, so I'll always be worried, you know that. And my take on him is not yet complete. It's still in the works." Geralt smirked subtly and added, "You might want to figure out your own."

"I trust you judgement," she said without a hints hesitation. She raised a hand to his shoulder, always needing to touch, always wanting to touch, as if the idea of parting again was like a torture. "But I will certainly spend some time pecking at his brain, making sure he doesn't have nefarious plans for our girl. Have you spoken to her?"

Geralt had to smile at her intentions. 'Our girl', however, still sounded strange coming from her.

"We had no time - Vesemir called the council immediately."

"You should make some," she suggested gently. "We don't know what's going to happen beyond this moment, who'll survive this battle and what words will be left unspoken."

Geralt smiled appreciatively. "I know. I shall. And thank you. For everything."

"You don't have to thank me," she said, removing her hand from his shoulder. "It's what we do. What we'll always do."

A smile of warm appreciation stroked over his mouth. "You will ask them yourself, or you want me to?"

"You should do it."

Ciri needed him now more than ever. Even if she wasn't aware of it herself.

"Let them know that when they're ready to go, I'll meet them at the gate."

With that, Yennefer left him to it and walked over to Keira to make a final check of her wounds.

* * *

Geralt found her in her old room, on the cot and staring at the ceiling. Seemingly impassive, she was boiling inside, he guessed as much.

He leaned against the wall, his arms folded, eyeing her. "I'm sorry, Ciri. I really am. But there is not so much I can do to change things or strategies for this, you know that."

Ciri didn't look at him the moment he entered, worried she might cry. Which would do neither of them any good.

"I know," she said almost automatically, letting her eyes roam the ceiling still.

"Forgive me," he said suddenly, detaching from the wall to approach and settle next to her legs. "I've been searching for you for so long, and you've been away and on the run, with all those horrors happening to you and no one there to help or even comfort… Ciri, there wasn't a day in my life since you'd been gone when I didn't wish to be there where I belonged – between you and all of those things you can't even tell me about. I failed the very purpose I had. I couldn't protect you when you needed it most."

She couldn't resist looking at him now. She moved her legs slightly to give him better space, hands resting on her stomach. "You think that was your purpose, Geralt?" she asked with a small smile. "I disagree. I think your purpose, where I was concerned, was to teach me what I needed to know in order to survive. And you did. There is no failure on your part."

Geralt gave a hem with the smallest of smiles – a sad one – and shook his head slightly, staring down at his hands. "My purpose was to always be there for you and with you. It's what I promised you. It's not about what I had to teach you or what you had to learn from me. It was about what I vowed to you. I couldn't keep it. And I would give anything to go back and change that."

Ciri sat up to face him, regarding him with an almost parental sternness. "It was not your intention for us to become separated. Any more than it was mine. It was not your fault. The world just… got in the way, as it always does. Put the guilt away. You do not deserve to carry it."

"Sometimes I thought I was wrong to take you from that trader's family," he mused. "What if you stayed there… Maybe all this horror could have been avoided for you. You'd lead a peaceful life. Without being hunter like a rare breeding horse. It's not fair."

"They would have found me sooner or later." She shrugged. "And I would not have experienced the happiness you and the others gave me at Kaer Morhen." Her gaze found her hands as well. "Besides, I would have spent every day longing for you. And I certainly would not have understood your reasoning for leaving me behind.

"We've all had a hard past but… I do not wish to change it. It has made me who I am and I think, given the chance to experience something other than running and hiding, you might like who I have become. I hope so. I hope to make you proud."

"Ciri," he said with a soft, tender kind of reprimand, turning to look her in the eye. "I've always been proud of you. Even back at Brokilon… How brave you always were, how determined. That determination is certainly something to be proud of, for both your grandmother and me. I've never had a day without feeling pride for you since early on.

"You haven't given me any reason to not be since we reunited. You've become so strong and ready to make your own decisions and be responsible for them. Even with Gwyncath. You're not afraid to help people and protect what you believe is right. I admire that. Truly. Even if I don't always agree or see the same thing you do. I still admire you. Everything about you. I always have. I always will."

Ciri swallowed, feeling those damn tears prickle at her eyes. She forced her gaze off of him, but took one of his hands in hers. "Promise me something," she asked, then quickly amended. "Promise me two somethings.

"One – promise you will return to me after this battle. That you will not die and leave me all alone."

Geralt had to smile, despite the lump in his throat. He covered her hand with his and squeezed a little. "I never lied to you, Ciri. I won't start now – we don't know what's gonna happen out there once it starts. But what I can promise you is that I'll do anything in my power and beyond to come back to you."

"That is what I ask," she nodded. "And there is something else. Should you, any of you, against all odds, slay Eredin tonight… Try to ensure no one destroys the body before I can see? Because I am not certain I will be able to believe him truly dead until I see it with my own eyes."

He nodded. "I understand. Don't worry, if he dies – you will make sure of it. I promise."

She squeezed his hand, closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

The Witcher hugged her to him, enjoying her being close to him, in the flesh, being real for once. He still couldn't shake the deeply-rooted fear that she could be gone in a cloud of mist, or he could wake up and find that all to be a dream and Ciri still gone so far away from him.

"I've something to ask you, as well," he said. "Yennefer needs some components for her amulets. She requests foglets. Think you and Kain could see if there are any around here?"

Ciri wrapped her arms around him in return and squeezed him slightly to accentuate the teasing in her tone of voice. "Trust me to take on a foglet, do you?"

Geralt chuckled. "I trust that if Kain fails to protect you against a foglet or two, I'll be sure to make him regret it."

Ciri snorted and got to her feet, satisfied she had something to do and wouldn't just sit here and twiddle her thumbs. "We will take care of it. Which parts does she need?"

He got up, as well. "She said she'd meet you at the gates. You can ask her yourself. Get to the armory, though, and pick up a silver sword for yourself. You'll need it."

"Yes, sir." She squeezed his hand one last time, then made for the armory to do as told. She lingered there just long enough to pick up a silver weapon and to spot one of her old tiny swords hanging on the wall like a momentum. She smiled; the witchers were so sappy.

Kain was nowhere to be seen in the main hall, so she headed out to the upper courtyard, hoping to find him as quickly as possible while avoiding Avallac'h in the process.

* * *

Keira had assured Yennefer she was fine but made no attempt to apologize for pushing her too far. Yen didn't care to press her for one, heading toward the entrance to wait on Ciri and Kain to catch up once Geralt had passed along the message.

Kain made his way outside once the council was over, slowly getting reacquainted with the keep as he moved down the stairs heading for the outer courtyard.

The raven-haired sorceress was strolling there. She saw him and began to walk toward him.

"Something you want?" he asked when they met in the middle.

Geralt must not have spoken to him yet. She nodded. "I was thinking that you, Ciri and I should head out to hunt foglets. Up for it?"

He peered at her, dumbfounded. "And we're doing it, because?"

"Because what else have you been assigned to do?" Not that it mattered. Yennefer needed it done.

Ciri found both Kain and Yennefer out in the courtyard. She approached them while fastening the silver sword to her back, catching snippets of their conversation. "Which parts do we need?"

"I'll dissect and take what I need." Yennefer glanced between the two. "You fine with it?"

"Sure, for as long as I find a willing horse to not carry that stinking thing on my own back." Kain narrowed his eyes at her. "You need just one, right?"

"We'll take Roach. She's used to carrying trash," Ciri said, gesturing for him to follow her down towards the stables.

Yennefer trailed behind them, following them to the stables, watching the way they communicated with one another. "You'll be fine to do this on your own?"

Strolling after Ciri, Kain sighed and kept quiet. Let her deal with her own worried family. He had lost all habit for that a long time ago.

"Taking on a foglet?" Ciri gave Yennefer a smirk over her shoulder. "I should think so, yes."

Of course not what Yennefer meant but the sorceress let her have this since she'd already been rallying against them "grown-ups" smothering her far too much. "If you can, make sure you can get two or more." She could always use the extra supply, anyway. "And keep your eyes open out there – even a whisper of a frost and you go. Understood?"

"I always do," Ciri responded honestly, leading Roach out for Kain and borrowing Eskel's horse, Scorpion, for herself. "And two it is."

She climbed into the saddle, took hold of the reins and glanced over at Kain.

"Ready?"

Kain stroked a hand along the horse's neck. The mare looked at him with a bit of wonder - his energy didn't resemble her rider's.

He unclasped the belt beneath the mare's belly and took the saddle off, leaving it at the stable rack. He hopped on and took the reins, sending her into a trot ahead.

Yennefer ambled from the stable toward the wall, appearing on top of it sometime later, studying the last glimpses of their heads until they'd disappeared from her view.

"What are you going to fasten the foglets to now?" Ciri asked conversationally as they trotted beside one another, gesturing whenever they needed to make a turn. "Or do you expect me to strap them both to my body?"

Kain pointed at her saddle where a roll of rope clapped onto it. "That would do."

He trotted down the road, looking around to recall the locations of the swampy areas foglets liked, then sent the mare into gallop.

Ciri was about to object he take the lead considering they were on her home turf this time. But the objection died in her throat once she remembered he had spent quite a lot of time here, as well. He probably knew perfectly well where to find the foglets.

It wasn't long until they reached an area where the ground was soft and wet and the air around them misty with supernatural fog. She slipped off Scorpion, aware most horses did not enjoy coming in close contact with foglets or other beasts of their kind, and drew her silver sword.

He slipped off the horse's back, and it immediately trotted away to what she perceived as a safe distance. It knew what was probably coming and didn't see any point in approving.

"You know foglets aren't fond of daylight, do you?" he smirked and pointed a finger at the almost cloudless sky with bright sun in the middle. "We need to find a cave where they hide."

"There's a mine up ahead," she gestured with a nod of her head. "Vesemir told me it was used for the school forge once upon a time."

She started that way, waiting until he was beside her before she spoke again.

"So… you knew Vesemir when he was young?"

"Of course not," he scoffed, following her. "He was younger then, not by that much, though. He was already an instructor."

"What was he like? Was he fun?" She loved Vesemir but she had never exactly considered him loose and playful. He was more of a loving but stern uncle.

"Not much different from now," Kain said. "He was a firm and strong-minded instructor for the Wolves, but for those of us who came around for Summer Camp or joined trainings he was a breath of fresh air after our own mentors that didn't cut us any slack ever."

"So you're saying the Wolves were more lenient?" She pushed a few branches aside as they made their way up a small hill. It wasn't long until they spied the mine entrance, dark and ominous. _Perfect_.

"Not all of them, but most seemed like that to us who were used to harsher trainings."

"I used to carry a Cat medallion. Had it for a few years before I lost it while fleeing the Hunt."

He peered at her with interest. "How come? Had a friend who died?"

"I killed a man who had taken a liking to killing witchers. He kept the medallions as trophies. There was a Wolf, a Cat, and a Griffin." She shifted the sword in her hand as they entered the mine, squinting slightly due to the darkness.

Kain made no response to that – there wasn't anything wise to say to that, and since they already came to the mine, he was trying to keep quiet. He slowed down as they crept through the cave, letting himself probe the energy.

He sensed some presence deeper in the cave. At least one creature was taking refuge here.

Ciri patted Kain on the shoulder to get his attention, and gestured with her fingers in a silent question: Attack inside or draw them out?

He gestured to get deeper inside – they wouldn't get out before it was nightfall. He showed her one finger: There's just one in there.

Ciri nodded and followed behind him when he moved ahead, both on silent feet. She couldn't see every creek and corner of the mine but she could see his hair easily enough, allowing her to maneuver the dark space without running into major obstacles.

It wasn't long before they heard the hissing and growling of a creature, sounding an awful lot like the one they were looking for. It had gotten colder, too, almost like a fine mist of water was spraying their faces.

It was almost pitch black inside the cave, and a part of him wondered how Ciri was faring behind. Especially how she would do when the creature attacked.

They didn't have to wait for long: the smell was suggesting they had come to the right place. It was too dark for human eyes, but when Kain tuned into colors and energy, he saw the outline of the creature.

It was a foglet, all right, but not as big as they could get – this one was barely to his chest. It was pissed. And scared. Kain saw the muddy colors shift around him as he dashed. His invisibility provided no advantage with Kain – he saw the creature through different senses. But Ciri saw nothing and was pointing her sword every which way, almost nicking Kain in the process.

"Go a bit back where some light gets in and see that it doesn't flee," he said, waiting for the foglet's fear to strike the top chord in his brain so it would panic and fight.

The creature caught on to Ciri's flawed sight and dashed for her first. Kain put his sword between her and the foglet's body. The silver cut across his middle; the creature hissed and turned to mist again, dashing to pick another angle of attack.

Well, this was pointless. In the dark, all Ciri could see were the rare glints bouncing off their swords from tiny cracks in the ceiling. She heard the foglet, though, and sensed his foul presence.

Not in the same way Kain did, apparently, for he was still able to fight the creature.

She did as told and stepped back the way they had come, into the semi-light. She heard a scuffle between them up ahead and then silence. Had Kain finished it off? "Kai–"

She squeaked in surprise when the creature appeared out of the mist before her, thrusting her sword forward, more from a primal reaction than actual intention. It pierced the foglet's abdomen and he screeched in fury, rapidly exploding into a cloud of mist again. "Heading your way!" she warned.

Oh, he knew. He saw the creature's panic flowing freely and coiling around his outlined figure in dirty-red mist as it dashed to Kain with a pained screech.

Kain swayed his sword, catching the foglet across the middle and pushing him further into the cave, and as the creature prepared to strike again, Kain threw a hand toward it, and a brightly orange breath of flame gusted to it, engulfed and turned it into a screaming and dashing torch. Kain ran the sword through the foglet's chest and doused the flame with a wave of his hand, worried that it could damage whatever the sorceress needed to get from the body.

The creature slumped down, burnt and steaming.

Kain turned to Ciri. "Bring the rope?"

Ciri nodded, assuming he'd see, and sheathed her sword. Scorpion and Roach came to her once signaled with a whistle, trusting enough to understand she would not have recalled them in the heat of a battle. Snagging the rope off Scorpion's saddle, she quickly returned to the cave and to Kain who was standing by the fallen creature. Or so she assumed. The stench was a good indicator. "We'll need another."

Kain took the rope and fastened it to the creature's legs. "We'll have to check some other cave, then."

He nudged her toward the entrance and dragged the dead foglet behind him by the rope.

The horses weren't happy – especially the one assigned to Kain. Roach neighed, jumped away and skipped sideways, kicking her hinder legs.

"A perfect horse for a witcher," Kain said, giving Ciri an ironic eye.

She grinned. "Horses tend to give Geralt a lot of trouble. It's hilarious."

Together they managed to lift the charred foglet onto Scorpion's back, and Kain fastened it with the rope.

"Should be a few smaller caves up the hill. Can't guarantee there will be any foglets there, but it is worth a try!"

"Definitely, unless your sorceress can be satisfied with just one trophy." Kain hopped onto the skittish mare's back and gestured for Ciri to lead the way.

"She said two. She means two." Ciri climbed into the saddle and steered Scorpion in the right direction, eventually finding a path that took them towards the mountain range.

They rode in silence, and Kain enjoyed all of it: the scenery, the familiarity, the sun on his face and a short pause that allowed them to briefly forget about what was coming. His mare was trying to race the opponent, which led him to believe Geralt had been using her to earn some coin that way more than enough time to teach her the routine.

They left the mounts to graze and approached the caves on foot. Kain tried to sense anything, creeping closer. There were strange signals. More than one. Or two. Or three…

"Nekkers." He turned to her, trying to speak very quietly. "There is a bunch there, but I don't think there are any foglets around here."

Ciri sighed and turned, considering the path further down the mountain. It wasn't as though they had extra time to spend. The Hunt would be here in a few hours if Avallac'h's calculations were correct. "I know of one more possibility. If we find none there we head back with just the one. We do not want to be caught outside the keep when Eredin comes."

They left the horses where they were and turned down a mild slope, then another climb up towards the east side of the mountain.

Kain began to follow her, and then stopped as an idea came to him all of a sudden.

"I think I know where I can ask about it," he said. "The trolls must know. Those that live around the altar where the witchers charged their medallions. Know the way?"

Ciri blinked and paused, turning on the spot to make a mark of their current location. "I believe so, yes. You've got a report with mountain trolls? They're not thrilled about our kind."

She pointed him in the direction of their horses anyway, because they would need them.

"They're nice creatures, unless rabid or utterly wild," he said, and whistled for the mare. They both came, and he saw Geralt's mount eyeball him with almost human suspicion. It was as if she only stuck around because another horse did and she wasn't feeling left alone in her discomforts.

Kain did remember the route, as well, and it took them about fifteen minutes to get to the mountains ridge where the passage started.

They couldn't get too close because the caves were surrounded by a vast swampy lake shore, and drowners roamed aplenty.

"Too bad a drowner's not good enough," he murmured, drawing his sword. The mare skipped away as if on cue.

"Find one with tiny legs she might not know the difference," Ciri teased, drawing her sword as well as they descended on the swamp. It was easier together, taking out the gatherings of drowners that shuffled their way whenever they spotted them, and they got through without any major injuries. Ciri suspected her new armor helped a bit, as well. "I'll leave you to handle the conversation," Ciri said, wiping drowner blood and innards off her sword on a patch of moss as they climbed the mountainside. "I'm not terribly great at first impressions, I think." Mostly because said impressions usually meant a sword to the face. She had not met a great deal of good people on her journeys.

"You think," Kain scoffed softly, recalling her catching his eye for the first time, waving her sword around at Griffin.

They entered the caves, and they were slightly better lit than the one they found the foglet earlier. It was easier for Ciri to navigate, and it put some pep into her step. Halfway through, he noticed a small passage leading sideways. He didn't remember ever venturing that way, and showed it to Ciri.

"Let's try here. I sense something… maybe we won't need the trolls."

"As you say, White Kitten," she whispered, following him through the small passageway, hand ready at her sword in case she should need it.

Kain hissed, both annoyed and amused. "Better be slip of the tongue there, princess."

The passage was very narrow, and his shoulders barely fit; but then suddenly he stopped grazing the rocky walls with his sword, and there was a cave ahead with a drop. He stopped, scanning the darkness, and sensed something familiar. It could be a foglet resting somewhere in the depth. But to find out, they had to jump down.

He went first.

Ciri had expected hard rocky ground and braced herself for the impact when she was embraced by a body of water. It was cold but not deep, probably a collection of the droplets clinging to the mountain walls over the years. Her feet found the ground quickly enough and she waded behind Kain until they pulled themselves up onto a ledge.

For the next few seconds they had to keep their heads down as they progressed, until the rocks overhead came to an end and they were once more in an open space. "Feel anything?"

"Yes, it's there, and it knows we're coming. It might try to flee – if there is another chamber on the other side, any tunnel to run into."

"Let's hope he is hungry for a fight then," she whispered. "Or just plain hungry."

She let Kain move in front of her, only because he had a clearer view of what was going on ahead of them. Like before she heard the faint growling of a beast and felt the air grow noticeably colder.

They found the creature when it was indeed seeking where to sneak away to. It wasn't fully in the mood for a fight, but when cornered, it felt threatened and angry enough to turn into mist and skirt around them in search of a weak side for an attack. And just like in the fight before this one, it noticed Ciri's blind spots.

It gave Kain an opportunity to set it on fire while it dashed around him and toward her. It screeched, thrown off its course by panic, long and thin arms flailing, which gave them an opportunity to strike. While patches of fire dances over its skin, Ciri could see where to stick her blade. Kain gave her the chance to claim a victory.

Kain's fire helped immensely and when the creature rushed for her with flames alight on its skin, Ciri twirled her blade and thrust it forward, into its abdomen and up, piercing its heart and holding firm until it gave a final shriek and collapsed. Only then did she withdraw her sword.

"Think we'll be able to find another exit?" she asked, sheathing her sword and brushing her hair away from her face, taking hold of the creature's arms so they could haul it out together. "Not sure we will be able to go out the way we came in. Unless you've hidden a set of wings from me all this time?"

"We'll get out the way this thing wanted to," he grabbed the legs she left for him and they went for the passage almost invisible among the rocks.

It was narrow and snaked like a serpentine, but then they caught a shift of air, and it led them out... half a mile away from where their horses waited.

By the time they reached the wooden bridge of the castle, the sun had begun its decline.

They got off the horses and untied their prizes from the saddle, hauling them up the stairs to the keep. "Yen?" Ciri called, searching for the sorceress in question. "Where do you want them?"

They dragged the bodies into the keep and toward the table used for dissection at times. They put one on it and left the other on the floor.

"She might be in the lab," Kain said.

"It is possible," she said, wincing at the stench of death that became so much more intense now they were inside. "I'll go find her."

While Ciri and their newest witcher had gone off in search of the requested creature, Yennefer had gone to help Keira and Vesemir with the side of the keep that need repairing.

It wasn't easy work and by the time they'd returned the sorceresses still hadn't finished, doubting that they'd ever be able to get it into the shape it deserved before The Wild Hunt showed up on their door.

But it would hold at least for a while as was necessary.

Yennefer walked into the keep behind the two.

"I'm right here," she said, walking up behind her, carefully touching a hand to Ciri's back, moving to inspect the two foglets spread out on the table. "You weren't gone too long, didn't give you much of a hassle?"

"No more than usual," she told Yennefer, briefly eyeing Kain as he headed outside again. "Biggest difficulty was finding them."

"That's what they're known for," Yennefer reasoned agreeably, gifting her an affectionate smile. She scanned Ciri slowly to make sure she hadn't been hurt. "I better get to work."

Yennefer went in search of one of the larger knives.

"Do me a favor, go into my magic's trunk in my room and bring me a couple jars."

"Sure." Ciri didn't delay, heading for the stairs at once, passing a scowling Avallac'h, as well as Eskel and Lambert who were discussing potions and bombs.

Once in Yennefer's room, Ciri sank to her knees in front of the chest, rummaging around until she found sufficient with jars that would hold whatever it was Yen extracted from the foglets.

Ciri made use of her washbasin before she headed back down again, taking extra care to clean her hands and rid herself of the foglet smell.

"Will these do?" Ciri asked, placing the armful of jars on the table beside her a few minutes later.

Yennefer shoved one of the creatures off the table and brought her knife down onto the remaining body multiple times, severing his limbs. She was in the midst of reaching into its slim body cavity to remove the one organ that gave it the power to camouflage itself when Ciri returned.

"Perfect." Yennefer gestured with her less busy hand for Ciri to find a place on the corner of the table to put them. "Fingers in one. Eyes in another. Take the tongue as well."

"Gross," Ciri muttered, but did as Yen said, anyway, using a pair of tongs this time to portion up the foglet's innards.

Yennefer freed up the magical item of its body and carefully slipped it into one of the jars, a smile on her face as she watched Ciri complete her own task. "Not any more gross then when you slay them, right?"

Although Yen knew there was a vast difference. They rarely stuck around to clean up the mess. And what a mess it had been. For a rather average-sized creature it bled a hell of a lot and was sticking the place up.

Yennefer pushed aside the remains of the first into the wooden crate she'd readied earlier and moved to lift the second onto the table to repeat the severing and the removal of the final gland.

"Huge difference. I don't generally harvest organs. I hack, slash, and move on."

"You should. They can be quite useful," Yennefer jested. If you didn't know how to utilize them, they were as useful as a drowner.

It was strange seeing Yen like this, the woman who would chide Ciri for holding a fork in the wrong hand, wrist deep in guts and blood. "Do you… do this often?"

Yennefer dropped the last gland into the jar and set its head and hands closer to her before sweeping the remaining body onto the remains of the previous. "As often as I have to. Which isn't that regularly. But as I'm sure you learnt today, these guys aren't the easiest to come by. I'm taking advantage." Act that could be looked as a positivity, considering none of them might survive the battle going forward.

"Lucky girl," Ciri teased, putting the lids on the jars. "I expect I am to haul them out of here again now?"

"You might want to get your little suitor to help you with that." They hadn't exactly been the easiest to move around and piled on like that in pieces wasn't going to make the trip any easier unless she wanted to make multiple ones. "Think they'll forgive us for the smell?" The stench of death even thicker than it was before.

_Suitor? _

Ciri blanched.

What the hell did that mean? Did people think…? Oh, Kain was going to run away as quickly as possible.

Her look of trepidation hadn't gone unnoticed for Yennefer's keen eye. So Ciri didn't see the boy in a romantic light or one of a physical interest? Maybe, given what she'd told Yennefer, she just didn't understand her feelings or his, for that matter. Yennefer would have to watch them more closely.

"Oh, uh, I'm sure the witchers won't notice," Ciri said. "They smell like death most of the time themselves."

She took hold of some of the loose pieces that were easy to carry, dropping them in an empty crate before recruiting Eskel's help with the rest. Together they pushed the crate outside and maneuvered down the stairs.

Yennefer gathered up her jars, wrinkling her nose at the mess they were making and how dirty her hands were, and started up to her bedroom to get started on the amulets.

She had managed six amulets in total, one of which she planned to give Ciri. Triss offered to give her another with which to defend herself or launch an attack, but Yennefer liked the idea of her being able to flee, of being able to disappear unseen if it came down to it.

Yennefer hadn't thought about it during their discussion around the table, but it had come to her after Ciri's insistence to be part of the battle and to be able to see what was going on.

She wanted Ciri at her best and less inclined to feeling left out or babied.

Yennefer tucked the amulets into a velvet pouch and headed back into the main keep, clothes changed from those she'd stained with blood and the stench of death in search of Geralt.

* * *

Geralt was at the table studying the scheme of the fortress and making a mental list of things he had done and checked so far. He had to figure out what they could have missed, if anything.

Yennefer's footfalls pulled his eyes from the map and to her as she approached. He looked at her with question.

Yennefer let her gaze linger on his back admiringly as she approached him from behind, moving to stand beside him to take a glimpse of the schematics and what she'd have to cover.

"How's the preparations coming? Everything going accordingly?"

"It feels exactly as it is: we have a few hours to prepare for an army of hell. And even a full week wouldn't cut it. But we're managing at least something, and every little something counts." He regarded her. "What about you?"

"Your invisibility amulets are ready." She raised the hand holding the velvet pouch so that he could see. "But I need a place to charge them. Somewhere powerful. With a lot of energy."

Geralt took the pouch, weighing it in his hand pensively. "Thank you. I'll see what we can do."

He considered her, pocketing the pouch.

"I hope you spared some strength for that shield of yours. It feels like a hell of a strain. You sure you can do this and be all right?"

Yennefer assumed she's be going with him to complete the job, but when he'd pocketed them, she guessed not. It didn't matter, there was probably still more work needed to be done on the wall.

"Does it actually matter? As long as we end this nightmare for Ciri – I'll do it at any cost."

She smiled thought to let him know she wasn't planning any suicide missions.

"I'll be fine, though. What about you? How's the wound? Healed completely?"

"It has," he smiled subtly. "Sooner with your help, so thank you once again, Yennefer."

"Anytime. All the time." She inched in closer to his side. "Don't suppose there's been any changes in your memory?"

Geralt gave a slightly sad smile. "Do you think I wouldn't have told you?"

"Is there actual time for that? How would you even know?" She mimicked his smile but hers was without tell-tale sadness. "Worth checking."

She grabbed the front of his armor, raised herself up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

"Who are you going to take with you to get the amulets done? Where are you going to go?"

Geralt didn't know what would answer her question of how he would know. He dared hope that he would, but how and when and if… those were unknown.

He reciprocated the kiss, however, and shrugged. "It's the same place we charged your phylactery. Not far from here. I'll send Kain. If he tamed a griffin, he'll surely befriend the trolls."

"Perfect."

The part that baffled her was that he remembered that. Did that mean she'd been around in his newest world to help him find Ciri? The only change being that they—in his world—didn't love one another? Or he didn't love _her_?

"What do you take from his relationship with Ciri? Do you think they're physically attracted to one another?"

A frown traveled through his face. "Frankly, I've no idea so far what's going on there aside from Ciri's attraction to him due to age and appearance. She feels some sort of kinship and follows it. Growing up among us adult witchers she had no peers to interact with. And then she was gone… and hardly she discovered too many people to even trust, let alone relate to, as she puts it. He's just… new. She doesn't say much about it other than trust and being able to relate to."

"Is he attracted to her, you think?" He'd spent a tad more time with them than she had. Individually and together.

"I truly don't know," Geralt sighed, thinking about it. "He does like her, but to what extent, I do not know. He looks at her differently than she looks at him, and I thought it was due to witcher mutations, but then he said he had not been subjected to it. I haven't been seeing them together much, almost at all."

Guess that left them both with a lot of questions.

"I guess we'll see how it plays out after this battle." Yennefer could begin to feel the tension in the air, as if The Wild Hunt were already close. "You should get to those amulets as soon as you can."

"I'll do it now." He stroked a finger along her cheek, smiling, and went for the door. He guessed to find Kain in the yard with the others.

They were filling the crates along the walls with newly made bombs when the Witcher arrived. Even Ciri was helping.

"These amulets Yennefer made for the forest hunting party need to be charged," Geralt said, producing the pouch, and handed it to Kain. "I assume you know where it is."

"You assume right," he nodded, pocketing it.

"I'll go, too." Lambert approached from behind them. "My legs need some workout after hours in the lab. Come on, Cat, the sun won't wait for us."

Ciri eyed Geralt and then Lambert, flabbergasted as to why the Witcher would choose to send Kain, and concerned that Lambert had some sort of nefarious plan to murder him out in the woods.

Kain turned to Ciri. "Give me your bracelet. I want to try to restore it."

She slowly undid her bracelet and handed it to him. "I expect both of you back," she told them, Lambert more than Kain, shooting him a warning glower.

Kain put the bracelet away, as well, and followed Lambert out of the gates on foot, jogging to keep up.

Ciri looked to Geralt, partially teasing but also worried. "You didn't send Lambert into the woods to kill him, right?"

Geralt scoffed. "I wasn't planning on asking Lambert to go at all. It was his initiative."

Ciri winced. "That worries me even more."

"You don't seriously believe he'll do anything after the trial is done," he reprimanded.

Ciri shrugged. "I love Lambert, but one thing he always told me? Rules are meant to be broken."

"He won't," Eskel said. "Lambert won't do anything harsh now when the battle is near. He might be upset, but he doesn't kill without reason."

"I hope so," she said thoughtfully, watching the gate they had just exited.

* * *

Growling, the ogre stomped his thick feet and swung fist, slamming it into where Kain stood. He rolled away, retreating, and the creature's bulk completely blocked the way outside where Lambert snuck away earlier.

Kain concentrated, backing away slowly. It wasn't easy to do on the run. The ogre's mind was a hard nut to crack. Kain rolled away from under another strike of his foot and backed away further, attempting to focus once again.

One thing was clear: it was impossible to do both the fight and the power. They were two opposites.

"Well then…" he muttered and stopped moving, closing his eyes.

He felt it, the strings of energy around him snaking through the rocks and earth and air; he felt the waters of life force within his body... Almost there...

Kain stared up at the ogre an instant before that giant fist would fall upon him. The ogre froze, staring back, catching up on the vibes. It took a long moment, but then he suddenly lost interest and, grumbling, retreated into the depth of the cave.

"I thought you fell asleep back there," Lambert said, detaching from the huge boulder he was leaning against waiting. "What took you so long, oh famed Gwyncath?"

"Witcherses two, no more walk."

They turned to see two trolls approach.

"Well, it's getting better," Lambert commented, folding his arms and stepping back. "I'll pass on this bullshit."

"This mountain trolly mountain," one of the trolls reasoned.

"Troll mountain," the other one corrected.

"Oh…" the first troll glanced at his peer, pondered. "Aye…" and turned to the men: "This troll mountain."

"We merely need to use the witcher altar up ahead," Kain said, ignoring Lambert's glee. "Your mountain stays yours. We pass to altar, and then we walk away. You stay and live here as before. Deal?"

Trolls thought about it, hard. The first one shook his head: "You witcherses thing one say, thing two do."

"Thing three do, sometime," his friend added, nodding.

Kain unstrapped the sword from his back and lay it down on the grass before them. They looked at it and exchanged glances.

"I leave the witcher sword with you as a promise that the altar is all I need. I will take it back before I leave."

They pondered some more, scratched their heads.

"Yous leaves sharp backclubs, yous passes," the first agreed. "Fair do goes."

"Fair do, aye," the second nodded. "But witcherses two backclubs leaves. Or deal no go."

Kain shot Lambert a look; Lambert rolled his eyes and unbuckled his sword belt.

"Gotta admit you're way too good with all the nasty shits," Lambert said as they jogged toward the Circle. "Even better than Geralt. Then again, Geralt never killed any brother over a rabid beast."

Kain refused to discuss it all over and kept his mouth shut.

The Circle was as he remembered it. It hummed with magic, reverberating even within his Cat medallion. His fingertips were prickling with the energy flowing around over the stony altar. He lit the braziers and placed the amulets in line on the flat stone. Then produced the bracelet, twirling it in his hands a bit, probing. Once he felt the string of power within, he held it between his palms, eyes closing, mutely asking for the power to be restored to its natural state. He held onto it for a bit, then placed it among the amulets and stepped back, almost bumping into Lambert. He was curiously observing the table over Kain's shoulder.

"What's that?"

"Ask Ciri. It's her trinket."

"Ah," he sneered. "Does Geralt know you exchange trinkets?"

Kain looked him in the eye with a calm cold. "What is your problem, Lambert? That your friend died but not by my hand, and the one I killed you had no place to avenge? If it's eating you that much, then go ahead and restore the justice, why don't you?" He held his arms apart, backing away until his heels felt the edge of the cliff. Small rocks and pebbles rolled off and fell down below. "You tell them I fell. Just like that. Shit happens even to the best of us, why not me today? Just a bad day to be in the mountains."

Lambert's mouth was sneering, but his eyes were shaper than their swords. "Wanna know my problem? I'll tell you. It's how the famed White Cat is not as clean a white we thought. How both Dirk and Aiden trusted you, and had it been Aiden with you that day, he'd be dead just the same."

"Absolutely," Kain said without skipping a beat, deadpan. "Had it be Geralt with me that day, or you, for that matter, or anyone, really, even Vesemir – they'd be dead, because I couldn't make the other choice after what I saw and felt. Yes, Lambert, my connection to the beast swept away my witcher judgement, but hey, I'll never even try to justify what I did. I came here for the trial and I was prepared to take either outcome. I know what I did. I will never forget it, you can be sure of it. If it's not enough for you – deal the blow."

"You think I won't?" he squinted, and stood before Kain with a hunting knife. The braziers flames filled the blade with orange glare. "Think it matters to me that they accepted you? Think it matters than you had a place here before I did? Think any of it actually fucking matters to me?"

"I don't care if it does or not. If you're hurt so much that Aiden didn't keep you as close as you did him and never trusted you the way you trusted him and thought it was mutual – you can try and deal your justice and see if the pain goes away. I don't blame you – betrayal stings the most. So try to heal it. See if you can."

He put the blade to Kain's throat, his eyes like two circles of silvery glow locked on the Cat's, the blade pressing tightly and drawing beads of blood. His lips a tight line, twitching.

"It's not you, Lambert," Kain murmured, holding his glare. "It's never been you. It's Aiden. And Dirk. And each of them. So many of them Cats. It's their mutations, the way they were, the way they chose to be. If it were you – Geralt, Eskel, Coen – none of them would stand proudly beside you. But they do. Even I do. Because my choices were different, nor were they ever pre-conditioned with Cat-School mutagens."

"Shut up," Lambert hissed; the blade pressing harder.

"He couldn't be what you thought he was. Not because of you, but because of him. It's the ultimate truth you need to know. Take it or leave it – it's your choice."

* * *

"Zireael, a word," Avallac'h's voice cut through the silence. Ciri shot Geralt a "duty calls" kind of look and pushed away from the crate she'd been busy stocking, making her way up to the elf who stood upon one of the few patches of grass in the upper courtyard.

She merely raised one eyebrow in inquiry.

"We must make a plan amongst ourselves," he said, peering down at her.

She frowned. "We already have. And though I'm not exactly fond of said plan–"

"Not with them," he interrupted. "You and I."

"What do you mean?"

"If the witchers and their merry band of scoundrels fail in keeping Eredin's forces out of the keep, if they enter the castle, we must leave everyone behind and flee. You will take us to a world where Eredin cannot follow. Not–" he pointed out quickly, "the world with the flying ships and metal people. I did not care for that. The dh'oines were basically fornicating in the streets. No, somewhere else will do. We will need to regroup."

She blinked up at him. "What are you talking about? I am not leaving my people behind."

Avallac'h almost rolled his eyes. She could tell he was tempted. "Did you not listen? If they fail, Zireael. It will mean their death. Nothing to be done about that."

She looked to her feet, swallowing in discomfort at that thought. "They won't fail."

"Of course not." It didn't sound as if he truly believed it. "But just in case, you will stay close to me at all times, Zireael. I demand it."

Ciri did not really have the energy to fight him on it. It would not matter, anyway.

She nodded and moved back to Geralt and Eskel to help with the last few crates.

Lambert strolled back into the courtyard just as they'd finished, and it did not take her long to realize Kain was not with him.

"Where is he?" she demanded with a concerned frown, approaching Lambert.

She felt Geralt and Eskel at her back.

Lambert barely spared her a glance, lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug. "He's slow," he said simply, his voice a low growl.

"Is he coming?"

"How the heck should I know. I ain't his babysitter." He shouldered his way past her and Ciri stared at his retreating back, her gaze briefly drifting to Geralt and Eskel before she ran for the gate, crossing the small drawbridge to see if there was any sign of Kain coming up the road.

* * *

"Witchers others much fast goes," one of the trolls shared when Kain was strapping his sword on. "Circle witcherses scared them makes."

"He thought he saw a ghost," Kain commented. "He'll be fine. Eventually."

The trolls laughed. "Ah witcherses funny things does," the other troll said. "Monster kills then ghosts scared gets and runs. Ghosts monsters, witcherses not knows? Witcherses stupid now gets. Old days no stupid witcherses."

"All witchers are different," Kain said and waved. "Thank you for the pass."

"Oh," the first troll said, "witcherses no thanks gives. Yous witcherses truth says, witcherses no same is."

The ogre in the cave was sleeping peacefully – this time there was no one to wake him with a rock to the head. Kain snuck past him and set on his way back.

* * *

Kain was nowhere to be seen. What on earth? Had Lambert really done something to him?

Ciri moved away from the drawbridge and further down the graveled dirt road, trying to sense for him even if it had been an ability that appeared to come automatically in the past.

After a while, she did feel something. A pull. Her feet picked up speed and she let it guide her.

He ran back, saving the time they could all use before the sun inevitably crept over the horizon. Somewhere in the middle of the road, almost at the river, he met Ciri that seemed to have ran to meet him.

"Something happened?" he asked, stopping in front of her.

Ciri came to a halt once he came into view, torn between annoyance and relief. "Lambert came back alone. I thought… I feared… He's got a really bad temper."

"He's just hurt, it takes time to get over it," he said, continuing his way toward the keep.

"Sure," she agreed, in a better mood now she knew he wasn't dead. "He pushed me off a chair when I was eleven. For stealing a sausage off his plate during dinner. He's vengeful, I tell you."

Kain smiled a little. "The question here is why you would steal from another one's plate."

"I was a growing girl!"

"And no one knew to feed you better?"

She shrugged, hiding a smirk. "I had a wolfish hunger. Problem was, so did Lambert."

"And there was absolutely nothing to hunt around here," he said ironically and began to jog when the keep's bridge came into view. "So both of you had to fight over sausages."

"You see how protective those men are of me?" she asked, jogging along with little effort. "As if they would ever let me outside the keep without supervision. I might break a nail."

"I can see that," he said. "The whole mob of witchers crowding you as we speak."

He slowed to a stroll as they entered the courtyard and turned to her, holding out the bracelet.

"I hope it fixed it. But I'm not the one to tell."

"I meant at age eleven," she said, gently nudging him before coming to a full stop, eyeing the bracelet he handed her. "Thank you. Whether it works or not, I appreciate it. I shall call for her after… Well, you know. If there is an after."

"There is certainly an after for you," he said seriously. "Your elf will make sure of that, and so should you. Don't grant the Hunt an easy win. Or any win, if you can."

"It's not really me I'm worried about," she confessed, making her way back up to the castle. People were starting to ready themselves. The tension in the air was palpable.

"I know. But worry robs you of strength. You will need the latter until the fight is done. Don't lose it to worry. You can hardly change much of what's to come. And even if you can – worry has nothing to do with anything at all."

He saw Geralt raising a hand in a brief gesture from the top landing, and jogged toward the stairs.

Easier said than done. Everyone she loved and cared about in the world was right here, risking death. She would never stop worry.

She followed Kain up the steps where they reunited with Geralt. "Anything else that needs to be done?"

"Only to be prepared to move out," Geralt said. "Everybody's back in the keep now – all trapping pits are ready in the woods, all bombs are made, all swords distributed. The wall repaired as much as it could have been, Triss and Keira went to take their posts on the walls. Yennefer is waiting for you, Ciri, before she goes to her tower. Go." He pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. "I'll see you in a bit before I go."

"All right," she said, squeezing him gently before turning to Kain. She hugged him, too. "Be safe. Don't do anything heroic."

She released him before he could respond and stepped inside in search of Yennefer.

"We're moving out shortly," Geralt told him when Ciri walked away.

The Cat nodded and produced the pouch with amulets. Geralt took it, pulled one out and handed to him. Then gave him a pensive eye.

"With no mutation, how's your healing? Sight, smell without potions?"

"I compensate with my own abilities. I can see in the dark, but differently. I can see colors, magic, I can fight in pitch black. Healing is also coming from magic practices."

"Who taught you?"

"Druids raised me."

"I see." He thought about it, his eyes narrowing pensively. "Dryads don't favor witchers. It makes sense now why they let you stay."

A slight wince swept through Kain's face. "Not like they killed you on sight, either."

Geralt seemed surprised. "They told you about me? Who, the queen?"

"Her daughter, mostly."

Something snuck through his eyes, a sort of melancholy. "You knew Morénn?"

"I did. I left right after she died in the battle on the border."

A few emotions passed through the Witcher's frowning face, and then some kind of understanding settled there. He merely nodded and jerked his chin toward the keep. "I'll check where our team is, and we can go." He went on through the doors.

Kain pocketed the amulet and leisurely began to descend the stairs heading to the stables.

* * *

Geralt had informed her that all they had left to do was to wait, to expect the inevitable attack and to reenergize while they had the opportunity to do so. Which is why—before anyone else—Yennefer headed up to her acclaimed space a level or two above the courtyard and their would-be battle field where she was able to spread her magic evenly.

When Ciri found her, the sorceress was seated on the ground amongst the stone and weeds that had grown up there, hands resting in her lap, doing a poor job of trying to meditate.

"Getting ready to head inside?"

"Mhmm," Ciri said sourly, hating the reminder of how she was to do nothing except cower and hide in fear while brave knights fought for her life. Like a damned princess. "How are you doing? Anything you need?"

"Don't look so aggrieved, Ciri," Yennefer murmured sympathetically, reading the look on her face without needing to dart into her head for confirmation. "You've nothing to prove."

She rose gracefully off the ground, swiping the dust from her backside.

"You've been eluding The Wild Hunt for two years with very little back up and what you've achieved has been inestimable. We're simply helping you lighten the load and ending this chapter."

She took a gentle hold of Ciri's shoulders, sweeping her ashen hair behind her ear.

"You've done enough. All you need to do is make sure that you remain safe and to remember to run if for whatever reason we aren't able to hold them off long enough. Don't hesitate. Don't give them what they want. All right?"

It had never been about proving something to them. It was about facing her fear. Her nightmares. Of overcoming it. Hidden behind an army of others, Ciri could do no such thing. The fear would remain forever. No matter who won.

But she nodded, nonetheless, staring into Yen's violet eyes. People said they were cold. Ciri had never seen anything but warmth there. "Fine," she said, reaching out to affectionately tug on one of her curls. "Promise me you won't die."

"I can't promise you that, my sweet Ciri. I don't ever want you to think me a liar," she said, encircling her arms around the girl, drawing her against her chest like she had done many times when Ciri was a child and feared Yen might never get to do again. "But know that I will try, that I will do whatever it takes to keep them off you and to protect what remains of our family."

"If you and Geralt die, I die." And for once Ciri wasn't being literal. She would want to die, though. She would not want to go on. How could she? "So you best come back to me," she whispered into the fragrant raven hair, inhaling the scent that meant safety and comfort.

"Always," the sorceress promised. She only hoped that whatever lay in wait for her in the end of their lives would allow her that chance – at least to say goodbye.

Yen held onto her a few greedy seconds longer, and then gently pulled back, peering into her eyes, feeling that no matter the gruesome outcome, that it was worth it. Geralt had given her so much in her life that even she wasn't aware of, but this girl, she'd fulfilled it with a part that had been stolen from her, that the sorceress had fought years for and never dreamed conceivable.

"Thank you for being my daughter. For being who you are."

She pressed a kiss to Ciri's forehead, savoring the last few moments they had together, using it as a means to imbue herself with added strength.

"Now go, get inside and stay out of sight for as long as you possibly can."

Ciri felt herself go misty-eyed and knew Yen would not approve. She'd always chided Ciri whenever she cried as a child.

She nodded and withdrew. "I love you." Then she headed back inside and made her way down to the first floor where those who had yet to take their positions outside were waiting, including Avallac'h.

Ciri headed straight for Geralt and wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking her head beneath his chin.

He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes, savoring the moment to carry it within his heart for the remaining time he had.

"I love you, Ciri. I won't let them take you away again."

"And I won't let them take you from me," she promised, voice muffled against his armor. "I love you."

"Please, try to stay out of trouble," he asked in a quiet voice. "If something goes wrong, use your power and make sure they can't catch you."

"I promise to be as careful as I can," she whispered. "And to follow my instincts." She pulled away a little to gently touch his face, smiling. "We're going to be alright. There is no other option."

Geralt returned her smile and tried to make it reassuring. "We'll do all we can to make it so, Ciri. I promise you as much. And always remember how proud I am of you. Of everything about you."

He planted another long kiss to her forehead, then let go and started toward the front doors. He was sure the hunting party was waiting in the stables.

She watched him to, barely restraining the urge to run after him and cling to his legs like she did as a child.

She swallowed and felt Avallac'h's long fingers grasp her shoulder. "Come sit down," he said calmly.

She shook her head. "No. Outside until they breach, remember?" She turned and headed back for the stairs that would carry her up to the higher levels of the keep.

It was with heavy heart that Geralt walked away from Ciri – once again, it felt like a betrayal. As if someone threw him back in time, and he was walking away leaving her to scream his name into his back. He cast a glance back at her – something he couldn't help – before he exited.

As he strolled down the stairs and across the inner yard, he spotted the defenders of the keep all in their designated posts. Yennefer watching the landscape from the tower; Triss walking along the wall, watchful and worried; Vesemir was smearing oil over his blade and nodded as Geralt passed. Eskel was practicing in the outer courtyard, fencing all by himself. The Druid, Hjalmar with his few men and Zoltan all stood together, Roche and Ves to the side of them, discussing some last details. Geralt's team of four was at the stables waiting for him. Letho, Lambert, Coen and Kain stood next to the horses.

He gave out their amulets, and they set out. The sun was setting, hiding away behind the mountains and forests. And as they breathed out, steam clouded the air before their mouths.

_So it began._

Geralt looked back over his shoulder as they rode across the bridge, and saw Yennefer's shield steadily expanding, covering more and more ground to envelop the keep.

They rode faster toward the woods.

* * *

Avallac'h caught her again before Ciri could make it to the stairs, arms wrapping around her from behind in a most uncharacteristic Avallac'h way. "We are staying here, Zireael."

"You can stay wherever you want, but I am going outside," she argued, squirming in the Elf's embrace.

He seemed not to notice and all but dragged her back into the main room, the tips of her boots scraping along the floor in a, quite frankly, humiliating manner.

"Avallac'h! You can't do this. I need to see what is happening!"

"Calm yourself," he answered and came to a halt with them both before one of the few looking-glasses in the castle. He unwound one arm from around her to touch its reflective surface, uttering something in Elder Speech she struggled to truly comprehend. But the meaning became clear soon enough.

As though a window had opened up before them, the looking glass allowed them a good view of the courtyard outside, and she felt some of the tension drain from her shoulders.

He let her go before long but remained behind her, his gaze as eager as hers to witness what was happening outside.

* * *

"Remind me to thank Yen," Lambert said as they dismounted and watched from an elevation in the woods how the barrier expanded and covered the whole keep. "This spell is truly something."

"Takes an incredible amount of power," Kain said. "She won't be able to maintain it for long without damaging herself."

"Let's not waste her time, then," Geralt said. "Let's go."

They clasped the belts with bombs around their waists and activated Yennefer's amulets, becoming no more than distortions of air.

"Remember, don't come too close to hounds and don't engage in battle unless necessary," Geralt instructed. "Our job is to close the portals."

The sky darkened immensely as if a hurricane was coming. The ground shook and the wind became so strong they barely stayed standing. And then they saw the first group of Riders approaching from the other side of the river crossing the path leading to the keep.

"Here we go," Lambert muttered and made to go, but Geralt caught him by the arm.

"No. Do not engage and let Triss show what she can do."

The team of Knights began to cross the river when it seemed the very sky rained fire upon them. When the smoke dissipated, the witchers saw their burnt bodies, steam coming from their charred armor.

Lambert whistled quietly. "If any of you ever feel like I'm about to piss off Merigold, make sure to whack me upside the head."

"The portals," Geralt reminded. "Let's go."

They crossed the river and jogged into the woods.

* * *

Every hit from the outside of the barrier was like an internal punch, making Yennefer want to fold in on herself, to have the power that was exploding outside of her consume her.

They weren't even that deep into the battle yet.

She gritted her teeth, tipping her head skyward, peering through the barrier as if to seek help from the Gods, to have them infuse her with the strength she knew she had, that she always believed she had.

* * *

They had to split up eventually when it became clear there were more portals than they could handle while traveling in one bunch. Lambert, Coen and Letho decided to cover the closest part of the woods while Geralt and Kain went further, hurrying as much as they could considering the hounds lurking around and running ahead of their parties. Geralt decided to not engage any fights until absolutely necessary – the portals were the main focus.

Random fire attacks were still booming around the forest landing on the groups of Knights venturing too close to the river – the last possible border where Triss Merigold could clearly see her targets from her vantage point.

Geralt surprised Kain with a very decent aim for someone who didn't use much of crossbows or bows in his fights. They covered about a dozen portals in the outer line of the woods, and it became clear to them why the ground was shaking when the attack began.

"They must be using something truly grand in power to make so many breaches possible," Kain said while they waited for another group to pass by, keeping their distance. "It must be something big, some power source to open the passages and let through so many fighters."

"I'm sure there are things at their disposal we can't even guess about," Geralt responded. "Which makes our chances slimmer by comparison."

The Cat smirked. "Don't know precisely what your instructors were teaching you Wolves, but ours used to recite endlessly how half of the battle's success is picking the battleground and knowing its tricks."

Geralt glanced at him with an unwitting, amused sneer. "I recall something similar, all right. But for us it was mostly versatile skills in the close fight."

"I remember."

They came out of the shrubbery as the last of the Knights was far enough, and looked around to spot any possible new portals. There were none too close.

"They're all moving toward the keep," Kain said. "We can't leave them all to Triss – magic is draining, I know that, and she's going to be spent by the time they breach inside, and they will, we all know that. We have to try and take out as many as we can here."

"Yes, we all know that," Geralt said. "But how do you suggest we take on an army like that? Including the hounds – in case heavily armored knights don't seem like an issue to you."

"You have your signs, Geralt. I have my ways. We have to do it. All five of us – we're the last fence the keep has. The last."

The Witcher pondered for a moment, glancing ahead at the keep and the portals flashing and closing ahead while the other three scouts worked. Then he nodded. "All right, I see the point. We can die inside just the same, but it better have some bigger impact out here. Let's go see where the guys are. Lone wolves die while pack survives."

They took an arch of a route to avoid most troops on their way back closer to the keep.

* * *

Avallac'h and Ciri watched the looking glass intently. There were no enemies visible to them from their vantage point as of yet, but Ciri could tell they were close. Why else would Triss be hurling fireball after fireball down into the woods outside the keep?

They were yet to see a signal from Geralt and his group, and Ciri prayed that meant they were just busy closing portals and disposing of the Riders as they came through, and that they were not too injured to call for Triss' reinforcements.


	13. Chapter 13

"Go ahead, I need a moment."

Geralt stopped, eyeballing him with suspicious inquiry. "What are you talking about? We better not part—"  
"I know what I'm talking about. You'll have to trust me on this. I'll find you and I'll help – better than I can right now. Just go ahead and get to your friends. I'll catch up."

He was reluctant to refrain from further questions and arguments, but nodded, nonetheless, and jogged ahead gaining speed.

Kain took a few deep breaths, closed his eyes and let the sounds of fiery booms and bombs and hounds dissolve into the background. He heard his heart beat, and that rhythmic sound flooded his senses as he lowered onto one knee planting his palms on the ground, his head lowering in deepening concentration. He searched for the connection and worked on making the bond more solid. Nothing else mattered.

_Time didn't matter…_

_Time was an illusion…_

_So was he…_

* * *

Loud screams of pain spurred Geralt's feet; he ran faster, skirting around the trees as he drew the sword. He slammed into the scuffle silver blazing and swirling like barely visible sparks. Lambert was trying to drag Coen away from a bunch of hounds surrounding them. Letho and now Geralt did their best, swords slashing and swinging, to keep the group of five knights busy.

"Retreat to the horses!" Geralt yelled to Lambert. "Throw the bomb and retreat!"

"Can't!" Lambert called back, slashing at the snarling hounds. "Too many!"

"Dammit," Geralt hissed. He slid the sword into one of the knights' armpit, then slammed into another; Letho attacked the other two.

Kain appeared between the hounds and Lambert still holding Coen upright before either could truly notice. One of the hound's heads flew up in the air, bounced against the ground and rolled down the hill past Lambert's retreating boots. Another hound howled and lost its front legs before its head detached and rolled. The third one bristled preparing to make ice spikes but had no time to perform before falling apart in two even halves.

In the space of no thoughts and naked, charged vision, Kain had more time than any of them to react properly. The Knights he moved on to were slow compared to his sword. They still had to think while he didn't.

Borrowed and shared energy buzzed in his veins like liquid lightning eager to strike; all four Knights were dead on the ground before a minute was up.

"Kain!" Geralt called when Kain bolted away to the next group he sensed ahead. He couldn't respond. He couldn't afford losing the power before it ran out.

"What the bloody hell," Letho drawled, staring after him.

"The hell is wrong with him?" Lambert reacted, then added, "Whatever the fuck, it's neat. We have to get back, Geralt, Coen's hit."

"What happened?" Geralt asked, trying to examine their friend.

"One of the hounds got him on the fucking spikes," Lambert said. "He'll die if we don't get him home."

"Then go back," Geralt said. We'll try to do more while we can here."

Lambert set back to the horses and Geralt with Letho ran in the direction Kain had gone. They found another dead group of four Knights and two hounds on their way, but didn't stop to examine the scene. They heard the fighting ahead.

* * *

Ciri was watching Vesemir patrol the outer walls of the keep, one hand at his sword so he could draw it in an instant. The others were down in the courtyard, including Hjalmar and his rowdy men, sick of the wait and eager for the bloodshed to commence.

"How long will Yen be able to keep the shield up?" she asked Avallac'h with a note of concern.

"Not for long," he said, deceptively calm. She knew he was scared, too. Not for his own life, but for hers. The continued survival of his people depended on her, after all.

* * *

Yennefer was no longer part of the fight, disembodied, a temporary gauge for the current that swept through her to maintain the field, a current that was weakening at a rapid pace and made her heart beast faster.

'Hurry! Hurry!' she mentally pushed, trying to summon the serpent, hopeful he'd heed her call before she unwittingly dropped the shield or passed out and there was nothing she could do for Geralt and Ciri anymore.

* * *

"Someone's coming," Ciri pointed out, watching Vesemir climb down from the wall to meet someone at the gate. Lambert was the first one she saw, though someone was slumped in the saddle in front of him. Her heart caught in her throat.

Coen.

"Oh Gods, he's hurt. We have to go help him."

"Not our problem," Avallac'h said coolly, lifting his hand to gesture at something in the scene before them. "Besides, who better to tend to him than his own. The witchers have their potions."

Vesemir and Lambert were half dragging, half carrying Coen between them, moving him further into the courtyard before finally putting him down where he could rest his back against the wall. They immediately plied him with potions.

She silently pleaded with Coen's body to heal itself.

* * *

The magic began to wane eventually, and one of the Knights Kain was fighting slid his sword across his shoulder, forcing the Cat to fall back a few steps as his focus wobbled. Geralt caught a moment and stabbed his sword between the metal ribs of the knight's armor, then engaged the other one that came at them.

"You all right, Cat?" Letho's impassive drawl came from behind them.  
"It's fine," he managed, dashed into the other one, skirting around him to slice across the backs of the knees, and then stabbed his sword into the Knight's neck below the helmet.

Kain stabbed his sword into the ground, lowering on one knee to catch his breath and regain the balance.

"Are you all right?" Geralt asked, approaching. "What was all this?"

"This magic… it's like a trance," he explained, getting back up to his feet. "It's highly effective, but draining. I can't use it for prolonged time, for my physical body can't sustain that kind of power for long without damage."

"We have to get the horses and move back," Geralt said, casting a brief considering look at the Cat's bleeding shoulder. "We've taken care of quite a few groups—"

"Look at this," Letho called. He pointed ahead. "They're regrouping."

"See that one leading the group?" Geralt said. "It's Imlerith, one of the generals. It means they're out of cannon meat and we need to pull back."

"Signal Merigold," Letho said, heading in the direction they had left the horses, starting to jog.

Geralt charged his small crossbow and fired up. A fire bolt whooshed and flashed bright orange high above the forest treetops, then arched and descended like a falling star.

After a few long moments, nothing happened.

"Dammit," Geralt hissed. "Something's not right with Triss. What if they breached inside already? Came from the other side?"

"Mousesack would be somewhere there to take care of it," Kain reasoned.

Geralt shrugged. "Whatever happened, Triss is not responding. It's not good."

"Let's go," Kain nudged him in the shoulder, and they jogged after Letho.

Another group cut them from the route to the horses, and they had to fight back. When they managed to kill those five, the group with the commander Imlerith was behind them.

"We have no choice but to try to kill him, you know," Letho said. "Not much else we can do here without Merigold's support."

"Another group between us and the horses," Kain put in.

Geralt shook his head and assumed the stance. "Keep close, back to back, if needed. We can't let them cut us down one by one." He cast a quick glance at Kain. "If there's any more juice left in that magic of yours, you have to use it."

Kain touched his palms to the ground and tried to find it.

* * *

Avallac'h and Ciri were both silent. Geralt had issued the signal but Triss was not responding. Something was wrong. "Have they gotten through? I don't… Yennefer's shield is still up, is it not?"

"It is," Avallac'h confirmed, his eyes narrowed as he examined the looking glass. "But her strength must be waning."

"Triss needs help."

"Zireael–"

Ciri vanished in a flash of green and appeared in the outer courtyard, sword already drawn. She ran up the stairs to the outer wall, trying to get a good look at what she could expect as she got closer.

Vesemir was there, having just finished off one Rider and dodging another. He got to his feet beside her and glared.

"You were supposed to be inside."

"Yeah," she mused, eyes set on the path ahead where a few elves where confidentially striding towards them.

"Go back in!" the old man cried, his yellow eyes flashing with anger and fear.

"Triss needs help. Geralt needs help."

He had seen it, too. Had surely noticed. That was why he'd been trying to get through to the sorceress, to help her with whatever was hindering her using her powers.

He sighed. "Get behind me. I'll take care of them."

She looked to the oncoming enemies and felt her lips twitch. "Not necessary."

Like before, she vanished in a flash of green, reappearing a few feet ahead at an incredible momentum with her sword braced. Swallow cut through their waists like butter as she slid from one elf and onto the other, slicing just where their armor was weakest. They fell immediately and she felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

Fight without ecstasy. Geralt's lesson. One she could not adhere to at the moment. She reveled too much in moving the way she had become accustomed to during the short time she had been able to use her powers freely, to dash and leap and twirl like a vengeful specter.

She ran the short distance that separated Triss and her now and saw that a portal had opened right beside the sorceress. She was fighting them off valiantly, men and beasts, but they kept coming and she had no chance to close the portal. Nor provide Geralt and the others with the cover they needed to make their return.

Ciri stuck her sword into the elf who was facing Triss and had his back to her, then dashed to a hound to deliver another fatal strike, continuing to the next with the same treatment.

Triss gasped at the sight of her but did not stop her own battle, throwing fire at those who came too near, setting a hound fully alight and rendering him nothing more than charred flesh. When they had taken them all, she turned to Ciri, her pretty face pinched in concern.

"You were supposed to wait inside!"

"Who would have saved your tiny ass then?" Ciri teased, flicking blood off her blade.

"Ciri, look out!"

Ciri turned just in time to see another warrior step out of the portal behind her. He backhanded her before she could react and her sword dropped from her hand. She staggered from the impact.

Triss thrust her hands out and claimed the weapon with her magic sending it flying straight into the warrior's abdomen. Collecting herself, Ciri ran at him, took hold of Swallow's hilt and drove him backwards, withdrawing the sword just before he tumbled over the edge of the keep and down into the rocky abyss below.

Triss threw her a look Ciri interpreted to mean 'You were saying?' and quickly closed the portal. Then she finally started on the task she had meant to do all along.

* * *

The power didn't come as it did earlier. The power stung like actual lightning and didn't allow for the same immersed sensation of ease. Kain was pushing the limit without a sufficient time in-between.

Nevertheless, they held their own back to back, as Geralt instructed. More and more portals opened around them, as if they were a marked spot. More soldiers came out, more hounds approached. The witchers had no moment to catch a breath, rolling, dodging, slicing and stabbing. Dead Knights fell to be replaced with more coming out of shining spheres. Kain felt his muscles tremble with strain, and his pulse was beginning to be deafening.

"Watch out!" Geralt suddenly screamed, pushing the Cat down on a knee. They cowered, and fire rained around them, taking out groups of black Knights along with their portals. It happened fast, but felt as a small end of times rehearsal played by nature.

They stood up, panting, and observed the bodies.

"We have to go now," Geralt emphasized, and whistled, jogging toward the horses.

The mounts came at full gallop, scared, and barely slowed down to take the riders as they raced wildly toward the only home and safety they remembered behind the castle walls.

* * *

"You have to go back inside," Triss urged her with a hand on her shoulder as they watched Geralt, Kain, and Letho gallop up the road and through the open gates. "Now! I'll go help with the portals in the courtyard."

Ciri didn't make her any promises but blinked away, up to one of the shorter towers connected to the inner courtyard. Avallac'h was nowhere to be seen but she assumed he was somewhere nearby. He had no reason to remain inside without her.

She stood behind one of the thick stone pillars, partially obscuring her body from view, watching her allies down below as they worked to close the portals that opened up every now and then. They seemed to be doing fine for the moment, but Ciri dreaded to think what would happen when Yennefer's shield collapsed fully.

"A couple of large groups approaching from the woods!" Vesemir called from up on the wall. "We need to close the gate now before they get inside!"

"I'll do it," Geralt said, bolting up the path to climb up onto another level to get to the wall.

Letho and Kain didn't object: no sooner than they dismounted, two portals flashed into existence in the opposite sides of the yard before them; the hounds poured out, followed by more Knights. Horses neighed, rearing up, and dashed back toward the bridge. The two witchers unclasped their last bombs, throwing them into the portals and ducking as they exploded. The spheres dissipated only to be replaced by three more, surrounding them with the enemy troops coming from them. The more they cut down, the more were coming out in a never-ending circle.

Ciri watched the open gate leading to the second courtyard where Triss, Hjalmar, and his men were fighting, expecting to see Geralt, Kain, and the others come through it at any moment. But they didn't. What was keeping them?

She raised her gaze towards Yennefer's tower. She was still there. Still holding up the spell with immense effort and even from this distance Ciri could tell it was draining her, her arms shaking slightly.

"Hold on, Mum," she whispered, seeking Geralt and Kain with her eyes once more. "Just a little while longer."

More and more portals were opening downstairs and Ciri could tell Triss was struggling to find the time to close them again. Ciri dashed down with her sword, jumping back and forth from the tower in short violent bursts that took out the enemies nearest her, allowing her to continue with her task.

Lambert came to the two witchers' aid, as they had noticed at some point between slashing the hounds and dodging the Knights. There were too many, and as much as Kain could still utilize the energy he strained to maintain, he couldn't cut down as much as he had to.

They were surrounding the witchers as if to squash between their heavily armed bodies. Lambert cried out as one of the knights cut him across the thigh. Letho pulled him away and they stood back to back. Another Rider got Kain in the already damaged shoulder, renewing the bleeding.

And then the whole bunch crowding them flew up in a cloud of crackling energy, then slammed into the ground around them. They looked up, astonished, to see the blonde sorceress on the wall observing them. Lambert raised his hand in thanks, and they began to work their way toward the center of the outer yard, trying to get as many hunters on their way as they could.

"Where is Coen?" Letho asked Lambert in a pause between the fencing.

"He's in the inner yard with Eskel. Patched up a bit, but still not so good. Still planning to fight though."

"We only stop when we're dead," Letho said and attacked another bunch coming from a new portal.

There they were, finally. Vesemir appeared first, with Letho and Lambert in tow. Vesemir ran up the pathway and to the ballista perched on the edge of the plateau, readying himself to fire it at the gate he had just entered.

Letho and Lambert hurried to help the others with the remaining portals and Ciri disappeared back upstairs again, where she could wipe blood off her sword and assess the situation from up high.

As soon as Geralt pulled the lever and the gates lowered down, a group of hunters came through Yennefer's shimmering barrier with Imlerith leading them. He yelled in rage and began to slam his giant club into the wooden gate. Those weren't going to hold on for long, from the looks of things.

Geralt turned back and ran along the wall. Mousesack was no longer on the tower – Vesemir was yelling for them all to pull back.

"Yennefer's shield is failing! PULL BACK! TOWARD THE KEEP! EVERYBODY PULL BACK!"

It was getting out of hand; the portals were opening everywhere. Geralt ran as fast as he could into the outer courtyard where everybody seemed to have gathered. He took more bombs from the crates prepared along the walls while Vesemir fired their old ballista into the passage behind the Witcher. A pile of huge rocks blocked the entrance before another big group of hunters reached it. Hounds growled and howled behind the blockade.

In the short moment Geralt had, he observed their forces and it didn't seem good. Lambert was limping, his leg bleeding. Letho was holding up all right, but Geralt saw he was getting close to exhaustion. Kain was bleeding, too, but whatever power drove him still kept his speed and reactions. It wasn't bad. It was better than any witcher fought, and Geralt realized why the Cat School decided to not change him.

More portals grew around the yard like mushrooms after rain, spilling more hunters; hounds ran around rampant. Mousesack could barely keep up with his staff and spells throwing them around and snapping their spines. Keira was on the wall chanting, and more Riders flew up and against the stone walls of the keep breaking their bones and necks.

If Geralt had to imagine hell or the end of the world – it seemed very close to what his mind could have conjured.

"Retreat to the main courtyard!" Vesemir called once the first gate had collapsed in a heap of brick and stone. He and Geralt approached but found the passage they needed to still be closed.

"Where is Eskel?" Ciri heard Vesemir ask. "He was supposed to open the gate."

Ciri turned and moved to face the main courtyard, peering down at the red-clad man who was far away from the doors and was fighting someone very familiar. Caranthir – one of Eredin's generals.

"Eskel is in trouble," she called down to Triss. "I'll go help him."

Ciri didn't wait for a response, blinking downstairs to where the others could not enter just in time to see Caranthir slam his staff into Eskel's chest, sending him flying back and crashing to the ground in what looked like a devastating fall. The elf was advancing on him quickly.

She readied her own sword and whistled for him, catching the elf's attention and steering him away from Eskel so he could recover.

She leapt at him in an attack. He blocked, then advanced, forcing her to parry his strong blow. She dodged his lethal staff, attacked whenever she had an opportunity but did not land a single blow until she vanished in thin air and appeared behind him, slicing at his back.

He growled and turned to her as she readied her sword again, already very aware he had the advantage of strength and height, but prepared to face him, nonetheless. The sound of a horn rung through the valley and the elf paused his progression, eyed her one last time, then turned and walked away, dispersing into frosty particles.

He left behind four warriors who immediately advanced on them.

Puzzled by the turn of events, Ciri reached out to Eskel and helped him to his feet, the two of them battling the remaining elves until they all lay dead and they were the victors.

"You should have stayed inside, sat your ass down like you were supposed to!" Eskel chided, slightly out of breath.

"Who would have saved yours then?" she countered, sheathing her sword and running down to the wheel that would allow her to open the gate for Geralt and the rest.

* * *

Bombs did their job, but it seemed it was a waste of efforts. Geralt had no idea where the Hunt took all the powers to command so many portals, but they kept sending more and more troops in. Every available fighter on the keep's side used the bombs and made efforts to close as many as they could, but soon enough the crates along the wall were empty. They didn't have too much of dimeritium to begin with. It was up to Yrden sign now.

Triss and Mousesack were struggling on the upper level when Geralt finally made his way there. Together they managed the three portals there and finished off the hunters. He was beginning to feel sick, his head was swimming a little.

"You all right?" he asked Triss.

She nodded, her eyes darting around. "Yes, thank you. I thought I wouldn't be… too many, Geralt. There are too many. I'm not sure if we can—"

Another ball of gleaming energy appeared a few yards from them spilling hounds and three knights in tow. Mousesack and Geralt started their way; Triss blinked in a flash of fire and slammed a fireball into their middle, granting them the moment to attack.

When the elves were dead, Triss looked up at the wall over the inner yard gates, still firmly closed.

"What's with Eskel?" she yelled, and Geralt saw Ciri standing up there. "We have to retreat!"

"He has to open the gates now," Vesemir said.

Kain, Letho and Lambert pulled closer to the rest.

"We retreating or what?" Lambert said, pressing his bloody hand to the wounded thigh.

"Not yet, apparently," Letho commented, looking down at the enemies approaching.

"Stand back a little," Kain said stepping forward. He stabbed his sword into the ground and crouched, palms pressing to the soil once again. His head lowered in concentration.

They all stepped back, and it seemed there was no time. Hounds were too close, almost upon him already. One of them leapt…

His head snapped up at the hound, and it flashed engulfed in fire, still airborne. It fell down while each of the hound and Knights following it and coming up the stony stairs to get to the keep defenders and the next gate – their last gate – caught fire that seemed to be coming up from the earth itself, traveling like currents from where Kain touched the ground and to each of the targets. They came alight like dry twigs, screaming and running and falling down like charred dolls.

When Geralt looked back at Kain, the Cat was careening sideways. Geralt dashed and crouched next to him, stopping his fall. He was pale as a ghost.

"You shouldn't have," Geralt said quietly. "You can't keep it up. We'll manage."

"Oh, will you," he said weakly, attempting to get up. Geralt helped, and he staggered back with the Witcher to the others.

"Come on, Eskel," Vesemir muttered, as they watched two more portals open and let in another two teams. They began to come up the stairs. "Come on…"

The Hunters were before them first, and they threw themselves into battle despite the exhaustion. Before they had finished, however, the mechanism of the gate began to work.

"Eskel is opening the gate!" Vesemir said. "Pull back now!"

Geralt pulled Kain with him and they did.

The first thing Geralt saw was Ciri at the gate wheel. He left Kain to double over to catch his breath, and stepped to her, scowling. "Why are you out here?"

"Opening the gate," she said, looking from Geralt to a near-exhausted Kain, and back again. "You are welcome."

"They're coming in through the gaps!" Eskel called, then rushed to an unconscious Coen who'd been propped up against a bale of hay. Triss ran to them both as Vesemir started barking orders.

"Dimeritium bombs! There are more in the crates along the wall. We have to close those portals!"

Ciri left the bombs to them, drew her sword again and advanced, darting around the chaotic battlefield and slashing at anything and everything that screamed enemy.

Kain didn't go for the bombs as Vesemir ordered – there was enough of volunteers – and placed his palms on the ground to establish the link and draw from it once again. There was no way to use the fire as he had earlier while the Hunters fought the keep defenders everywhere. He couldn't hit ones and not the others. He opted for the swordfight and individual fire attacks. More and more portals began to open around.

"They're coming from the breach in the wall!" Eskel called from a level higher. Geralt and Kain rushed there to provide assistance. Coen was slumped at the wall. Even the brief look Kain cast at him told him the witcher was dying. Kain glimpsed a new wound in his chest, probably from a sword this time. Not far from him lay one of the Skellige prince's men, his intestines being pulled apart by two hounds.

The troops caught outside the yard were slamming something heavy against the gate.

"They're gonna get in soon!" Lambert called. "We have to get inside!"

With most of the portals closed with the defenders' joined efforts to make most of the dimeritium bombs left, they all looked to the gates and watched the white of frost creep over it like a live mold. The cold began to bite their skin, their breaths fanned out in thick white puffs.

Kain sensed the moment the last of the remaining shielding power fell around the castle. And then, the gate shattered like a smashed piece of pottery, letting in a white wave of the Frost.

Instinctively, he dove down behind a piece of rocky border and used the remaining magic power for a shield. The icy breath of Frost still seeped into his bones; he heard their heavy footsteps entering the yard. The grass before him was sticking up like made of glass. It broke like it with a little crystal-like ring to it as he scrambled to his feet and peeked out. Geralt, Eskel, Lambert, those he could see were frozen in place as if trapped in thick layer of glass. They weren't moving. They weren't dead, either, but he had no idea what would happen if one of the Hunters decided to smash a sword into them.

Would they fall to pieces like the gate?

From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Vesemir pulling Ciri away. She was staggering and dazed.

* * *

It all happened so quickly. The doors burst open and a rush of wintery air flew inside the keep, rendering those caught in its path to human icicles.

Her heart leapt in fright. Geralt was there. But Ciri had no time to react. A force knocked into her from the side and drove her to the ground.

Vesemir.

She groaned, her forehead having accidentally bounced off the cobblestone and now ached viciously, making her vision blur.

She did not have to look up to know who had entered those gates. She felt it. Felt it in her bones. _He_ was here. Eredin.

Vesemir urgently pulled her to her feet, gesturing she stay low so they could sneak off towards the side of the castle. He had to continue pulling her, her body would not easily yield, her mind on Geralt. A _frozen_ Geralt.

They didn't make it far before Imlerith slammed his shield into Vesemir, causing the old witcher to be thrown away and onto the cold ground.

A set of fingers fisted in her hair from behind and pulled her back against a heavily armored chest, holding her so tightly Ciri thought her scalp would detach from her head.

"You shan't escape me this time," Eredin growled, wasting no time in hauling her back towards the glowing, swirling lights of a portal.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything but think of how she had failed. She had failed them all.

But then, there was Vesemir, appearing as if out of nowhere with renewed vigor. He swung his sword at Eredin who lazily parried his attacks with one hand. But the old witcher struck true at one point and the elf's hold on her hair faltered. Once more she fell to the ground.

Just as Ciri was about to get up again, Vesemir shoved his hand in her direction, unleashing the sign of Aard and sending her sliding along the cobblestones and out of Eredin's reach, knocking the wind out of her in the process.

She fought to right herself and eventually made it back to her feet, shaky and unsteady this time, sword drawn. Her eyes widened at the sight of several newly opened portals and the masses of elves and hounds that strolled through them, surrounding her completely.

Two new portals opened in front of Kain while he ran toward Vesemir to help him; Kain almost ran into it. It was icy cold around the yard, but the portal felt like the abyss of hellish frost itself.

He rolled back and slashed two hounds behind him, jumping back on his feet. His heart was pounding so rapidly and strong it made him dizzy and sick. There was too little of the magic left to use in him, too little. Too many Hunters…

It took him longer to dispose of the two that placed themselves on his path, and when he pulled his sword from the second before the elf fell, his head was swimming, and Vesemir was on the ground; Imlerith was methodically slamming his metal fist into the man's face.

With a guttural growl of pulling the last of his efforts, Kain threw a hand forth, pushing the power into the commander. It sent him flying and flipping through the air; he slammed into the ground with metallic bang, rolling. He was getting up, and two more hunters seized Kain from behind.

Something smashed between his ribs, spilling heat and stinging, burning pain inside his chest. He glimpsed a hilt of a knife in one of the hands holding him. He had no steam to cry out; a weak wheeze slipped between his lips followed by a gush of blood.

"No," Eredin commanded. "We only just met, it's rude to dismiss him without even a glimpse."

Imlerith was over Vesemir, yanking the instructor up like a puppy by the throat. Vesemir cried out, wiggling, as the general slammed his back into the stony wall, holding him in place. Vesemir's boots dangled a good foot above the ground.

Kain jerked in his captor's vice-like grip, but the blade twisted between his ribs; he felt them crack and spurt more painful heat into his chest. He felt too woozy and tired, and the pain was so intense he thought he felt the cold of the blade against his thrashing heart. It made him feel sick; more blood gurgled up in his throat and into his mouth.

"Run!" Vesemir screamed at Ciri, struggling in Imlerith's grasp.

Through the red mist of pain, Kain saw the leader – Eredin – remove the visor of his helm revealing a pale face and a cold, vicious sneer. He looked from Kain to Ciri.

"She'll not abandon you," he said. "So much to lose here. Humans tend to be pathetically attached to impractical things." He canted his head sideways as if giving Ciri a playful eye. "We can take your new toy with us. I have to admit to a certain level of curiosity your new alliance awoke in me. And the way he disposed of my troops makes it worthwhile." He held a hand out to her. "Come, and he will live." He threw the Cat a gander and shrugged, "For a while."

The mist made it hard to see anything but at the sound of Eredin's voice, calling for his general, Ciri looked their direction and saw to her horror that Imlerith had Vesemir by the throat, strung up against the wall behind him.

_Oh, gods… They are going to kill him._

And then she saw Kain, captured between two dark warriors, bloodied and battered, looking as though he was barely conscious. It took her another few seconds to notice the knife, causing a weak whimper of helplessness to escape her.

Eredin looked at her, a small victorious smirk playing over his lips as their eyes finally met. Her gaze fell to the hand he extended her way, his words echoing in her mind.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

She looked between her old tutor, a man she loved; Kain, who she had only just started to get to know but whose presence had made such an impact she did not ever want to lose him; and the nightmare, Eredin, that stood in front of her, and she felt scared. Not of what would befall her should she end up in Eredin's clutches, but of the guilt she would have to live with should any true harm befall Vesemir and Kain this day.

She shot Vesemir an apologetic look, and slowly lowered her sword.

"Ciri, no!" he cried. "I forbid you!"

She did not heed his command. She so rarely did.

Ciri was caving, and the leader of the Hunt sneered in an even nastier way observing her distress.

"You always were an unruly child with an unbreakable will of your own," Vesemir said to her, his voice strained but still strong. "I always adored that about you. But this time... one last time... RUN! JUST RUN!"

He had a knife in his hand, and he stabbed it beneath Imlerith's arm extended to hold him by the throat.

Panic rolled through Kain's spine like an icy current. The adrenaline of shock gave him the last possible burst of magic he was capable of, and he flicked his wrist snapping Imlerith's arm. He growled staggering back two steps, and let Vesemir fall down on his fours.

The knife in Kain's ribs was yanked out and immediately jabbed lower into his side. He grunted, seeing black roses blooming in his vision; more blood came up his throat and from his mouth.

He sensed what was coming, and feared to see it, but his eyes helplessly sought out Vesemir, nevertheless.

Eredin seemed annoyed by the constant scuffle behind him. Vesemir was getting up slowly when Eredin turned to him abruptly and ran his sword through the teacher's chest pinning him to the wall like a bug on a board.

Kain sucked in a breath as if the bastard stabbed him again. The vision of the hellish nightmare in the yard was wobbling and turning red and black before his eyes.

Ciri froze in her track, watching Vesemir fall to the ground and try to get back on his feet, hope barely rekindled when Eredin pushed forward and stabbed the length of his sword through Vesemir's body.

"NOOOO!" she cried, her eyes fixed on her old mentor's face. It had frozen in pain and surprise and it did not change. He no longer moved at all.

Once more she struggled for breath. Her vision blurred, the world was spinning, and staying on her feet became a challenge. All around her she sensed the warriors move in close, including Eredin, and felt his pleasure at the sight of her caught like a rabbit in a snare.

She was going to be sick. It was coming up the back of her throat.

No. Not sick. Something different. Something new. Her whole body buzzed as if electrified and suddenly her whole world went dark.

Avallac'h broke free of the ice that had encased him with a loud groan of effort and pain. He was aching all over as if having been caught naked in a snowstorm, which was not actually far from the truth. And the magic he had used to free himself had left him almost completely void of energy. It was a miracle he was still on his feet.

All around him his allies were frozen like ice sculptures. None of them had managed to free themselves from the Hunt's spell. But it did not matter. For he saw Ciri surrounded by a group of warriors and without her sword. The battle was lost.

And then… it happened. What he had feared all along. The girl rose into the air, her feet a few inches off the ground, her arms outstretched on either side and her back arched in an unnatural manner. There was an eerie green glow surrounding her and the moment her lips parted an otherworldly cry so horrible it could shatter bone erupted from her small stature.

Avallac'h clamped his hands over his ears, wincing in absolute agony. It felt as though his brains were melting. Several of the warriors surrounding Ciri followed suit, clutching their heads and stumbling back over those who had been blown away by the first wave. If one could have seen beyond their helmets, one would have noticed blood trickling from their ears, noses, and eyes. The ones closest to her all fell and the ones further behind jumped into the portals opened by Caranthir, fleeing, retreating. It looked as though the generals were about to do the same, both of them unable to stand upright at this point, but they could not abandon their leader.

When she began to scream, it felt as if something of fine glass shattered repeatedly inside his skull. The hands gripping him disappeared when the Knight staggered away clutching his own head, and without that support Kain's legs gave in. The impact of his back with the ground knocked the air out of him. He coughed another wrenching gush of blood and then the world turned into one inhuman piercing scream. The outbreak of magic that began in her, drawing from her pain and despair, reverberated violently within Kain, fueling the agony of his wounds. It could have made his ears bleed, but he no longer knew. That scream twisted and turned around like a spiral pulling him into darkness.

Eredin's teeth were clenched as he fought against the overwhelming power separating him from his prize. He reached for her, hands shaking, knees buckling… And then Caranthir forced him back, pulling him into the portal. The Hunt were all gone. Leaving behind only the fallen.

Yet Ciri did not stop. She was too far gone, Avallac'h knew. She had no control. He staggered closer to her against his better judgement, watched as rocks, debris, and corpses were pulled into her wake and disintegrated. He had to stop her before she killed everyone.

Once she was clearly in view again, he reached out and screamed at the top of his lungs, using the last bit of magic and energy he could afford. "Gvaed, gvaed uncym, cym'morth!"

Ciri's eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped at once, all sound silenced as she fell unconscious.

Moments later, Avallac'h followed.

* * *

When Yennefer came to, the Keep was deadly quiet and her body was riddled with pain, blood drying against her nose, something similarly sticky at her ears. She touched a hand to them, as if to make sure she hadn't lost the ability to hear, and then slowly rolled over onto her stomach, keeping low to the ground as if she feared what she'd find if she clambered to her feet and made herself known.

Ciri woke sometime later with a clear memory of what had happened, horrified and almost unwilling to believe what she had seen, and the outburst that followed. She scrambled to her feet and shakily made her way over to Vesemir who was still pinned to the wall like a butterfly, Eredin's sword sticking from his chest. She cried trying to pull it free, but it was too deeply embedded in the stone she could barely move it an inch.

Looking around in her despair, her gaze landed on Kain. He, too, lay unmoving, blood on his face, blood on his body, blood everywhere. She stifled a sob and fell to her knees beside him, trying to prop him up against her lap like she had done in Freya's garden. He was alive, but just barely, his wounds grave and his energy fading. And she could not even tell if the worst of it had come from The Hunt or her.

She pressed her hands to the wounds at his side, whispering a prayer of healing, though she did not know who to pray to now.

Yennefer crawled closer to the edge, rising up when she saw that the portals that had appeared out of nowhere had gone and all that remained was the bone-chilling cold.

The first thing she saw was an ashen head of hair hovering over another, silvery.

"Ciri," she murmured, tears springing to her eyes as she got to her feet, stumbling, unable to keep up with the sudden rush of adrenaline when her legs were struggling to regain their strength.

Yennefer ran, she didn't know how, but as soon as she reached the bottom of the broken and blood-soaked stone steps she began an immediate search for Geralt, as well.

"W-what happened?" she breathed out as soon as she reached Ciri's side, dropping to her knees beside the girl, to make sure she still was in one piece, although she couldn't see any open wounds on her. "Where's Geralt?"

Ciri could not see anyone else from where she was sitting and did not know who had survived and who had not.

"I…" Her voice was hoarse, raspy. "I don't know. Frozen…" That was the last she remembered of him.

Yennefer reached for her girl's head, stroking her hair while Ciri cradled the boy who looked on his way out; Yennefer was scanning the courtyard until her gaze came to land on the macabre image of Vesemir pinned to the side of the wall like a trophy animal. She hadn't noticed it at first and expected that she would suddenly see them all over, except that wasn't the case, and soon Triss appeared, hands bloodied, hair disheveled, features pinched with distress.

That made three.

She rushed over to Ciri, her eyes welling up at the sight of the old man strung against the wall, her hands coming to rest on the boy Ciri appeared to be cradling in effort to alleviate his pain or heal.

Yennefer didn't have the strength to afford the same.

She hesitantly broke from Ciri's side, going in search of Geralt to free him from his trap and make sure he hadn't been further injured or worse.

Ciri vaguely registered Yennefer leaving and Triss taking her place beside her, her hands coming to touch Kain's body as well. "Can you help him?" Ciri whispered.

Triss clenched her jaw, clearly trying to ignore the sight of Vesemir. "I'm trying, Ciri. I'm trying."

Mousesack, appearing out of nowhere, knelt beside Ciri, gently making Triss shift. There wasn't much she could provide now without her elixirs and as stressed and tired.

"There's almost no life left," Mousesack muttered to himself, examining the boy. "Too much magic strain, he's got nothing left to aid the heal. Heartbeat slowed down allowing for slower blood loss. He needs to warm up." He cast a look at Ciri full of sorrow and sympathy. "I don't know if he'll survive, but I'll do what I can."

"He'll survive," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "He's important…" She shifted her gaze to Mousesack suddenly. "Should I take him inside? To a bed? It will only take a second."

"Yes," he nodded. "I'll get to him in a bit. We need to see who else is in dire need of my help. I can help them faster."

She didn't shift out from under Kain before she blinked them away, appearing atop the cot in the room he'd been given. Carefully, she freed herself and gently placed his head on a pillow, pulling the covers up over him as much as she was able while still keeping a firm pressure on the wound at his side.

Her mind was racing, going from Kain to Vesemir to Geralt and Yennefer. And then, everyone else. Were they alive? Had someone else died? She felt like she was going to pass out from the stupor and helpless worry that made her want to scream.

* * *

The sound of ice breaking around him yanked Geralt from the daze. He registered Mousesack's worried face and looked down at his still ice-locked feet. It took a bit of effort to break it. Geralt stomped his feet, getting the blood flowing. His body was numb from cold.

"Everyone who has been alive when frozen is going to live," Mousesack said. "The Frost."

"Ciri, where is she?"

"Took the boy inside, he's near dying. Vesemir... They killed him. He was trying to protect her, fought them, as did Kain."

Geralt's heart fell and shrunk in a bout of profound sorrow.

_Vesemir..._

"Who else?"

Mousesack shook his head mournfully. "All of Hjalmar's men... And that witcher, Coen. Others are wounded, shaken, but with proper care shall recover. With Kain, I don't know…"

Geralt nodded, squeezing his arm in thanks, and started toward the center of the yard where he saw Vesemir last.

Instead of Geralt Yennefer found Eskel.

She used her hands to peel the ice from him in places, ignoring the look of surprise on his face and the touch of appreciation that had temporarily flashed in his hard gaze.

She brushed her chilled fingers against her sides and shivered. Unlike the rest, she hadn't been frozen. She guessed it only took effect when one was conscious.

However, something else had happened that she hadn't seen and could still feel caked to her face.

"Are you all right?" she asked, scanning Eskel from head to toe, hardly feeling her concern abate as she hadn't stumbled upon Geralt yet.

"Nothing an elixir won't fix. You?"

She nodded despite the fact that the mere action made her head spin slightly. "Geralt?"

No sooner she'd asked, she saw the figure in question heading toward them, the urge to run toward him so strong that for a second she'd forgotten to breathe.

Relief from seeing Yennefer and Eskel alive and on their feet was immediately replaced with shock at the sight of Vesemir's body pinned to the wall like a piece of used armor.

Geralt set his jaw, tears welling in his eyes as he approached slowly, still unable to believe it. The pain of hearing of his death was nothing compared to seeing it and knowing it was final. Irreparable.

Eskel came up, his eyes red, too, and they yanked the sword out. Eskel caught their dead mentor and gently lowered to the ground. Geralt picked up his sword lying to the side and slid it into the sheath beneath his shoulder.

Yennefer trailed behind them, finding herself at odds with herself, tears springing to her eyes at their own heartbreak. She knew how much the older man had meant to Geralt.

"I can't believe we lost him," Triss murmured, voice breaking, her footsteps so light Yennefer hadn't even heard her come up to her side.

Yen nodded.

What could she say?

After looking at everyone else who'd joined them, it became more apparent that they had actually lost the fight and that they'd all gone down at some point, and something miraculous had happened.

But what?

The only one Yennefer thought might have had the answers was the Elf who'd been tending to Ciri earlier, but he appeared to have abandoned the courtyard.

Mousesack approached as always quietly, whispered something in Triss's ear, and she snuck away.

"I'm so sorry, lads," he said, standing next to Eskel and Geralt. "It is a dark day, indeed."

"No witcher ever died in a bed," Letho said, having come up from behind. "At least we all knew him. It leaves us memory."

Yennefer watched Mousesack and Triss share a moment and then the latter saunter off.

Where was she going? Where was Ciri and her little friend?

Yennefer scanned the space where Kain's blood still remained and winced.

What if she'd taken off?

The raven-haired sorceress squeezed her way between the witcher's, moving to press herself against Geralt's back.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, making sure it was loud enough only for his ears.

He watched Mousesack go and turned to reciprocate Yennefer's embrace. Eskel removed himself, as well, to provide a moment of privacy.

"I'm sorry, too. I brought this on him. On all of them."

She loosened her hold on him as he turned to face her, drawing him tight against her chest, burying her face in the side of his shoulder and neck.

She could feel the urge to cry bubble to the surface.

She'd been so worried when she couldn't find him before and holding him now was an incalculable relief. She only wished it was under better circumstances.

"No, you didn't," she murmured, drawing back, her hands finding his face. "We all chose to be here. To fight for Ciri. It's not you—or her—it's The Wild Hunt. They're the ones that did this and the only ones who will pay for it."

"I should have known better," he murmured into her hair. "They cannot be defeated by so few. It was a suicide. For some..."

"We did know better," she said, swiping at his cheeks, once again drawing him against her chest, a hand in his hair as she held him against her. "All of us. We wanted it to be over – to save her."

"I need to see her. She must be devastated."

* * *

Triss came into the room quiet like a mouse, and gave Ciri a meek smile, approaching her. Triss knelt next to her, put a bunch of cloths and a bowl of water on the chair. She produced a vial, opened it and poured some into an empty bowl, then set it down, as well.

"Mousesack said he'll come shortly," Triss said in a soft voice, pulling the covers off Kain. "I'll clean his wounds."

She began to undo his armor straps as gently as possible. However, she saw the boy was unresponsive. Not much she could do to hurt him.

"That magic he uses," she said, and cast a shifty look Ciri's way, trying to formulate it carefully. "Has he told you what he is? A sorcerer like Avallac'h?"

Ciri reluctantly removed herself from Kain's side when Triss stepped in to help, gathering the pieces of armor she removed as she went.

"He was raised by the druids," she said. It sounded like her voice came from far away. From someone else. "And the dryads. He's special. Important. We have to help him."

Triss regarded Ciri, peeling the boy's shirt up, and gestured for the girl to help her get it off.

"Special? How special? Who said so?"

Triss bit her lip, trying to pace her curiosity, but it was buzzing all through her nerves like a disturbed hive of wasps.

Ciri disposed of the armor on a chair and leaned down to help Triss with his shirt. Kain looked so pale she almost lost her breath for a moment. "I said so. I just know it."

Triss hesitated, dipping a cloth in the bowl with her elixir, and began to gingerly clean the wound in his chest. The lung was pierced, she noted. And the side of the abdomen.

"What kind of feeling is it," she asked carefully, "that tells you that he is special?"

Ciri shrugged, didn't really want to talk about it. She knew she wouldn't explain herself right. "No words. Just a feeling. A bone-deep knowing."

Triss smiled subtly, getting to another wound. "Love?"

Ciri scowled because this was what she had been afraid of. "Of course not. Love is what I feel for Geralt. For Yennefer. And you." She looked to Kain, softening ever so slightly. "You don't love someone after only three days of knowing them. Not unless they are your destiny." Like Geralt had been.

Triss smiled a bit bolder, sweeping blood gently off his skin. "Oh, my darling little sister," she sighed. "You can never dissect love. Nor predict when it comes. Sometimes one glance is enough.

"So… You love him?"

Ciri frowned, looking from him to Triss, feeling distinctly uncomfortable and like, for once, she wanted to run away. "Why are you asking me these questions?"

Triss gave her a sympathetic look and gestured at the bowl with water. "You can clean the blood from his face.

"I'm sorry, Ciri, my dear, I just... Your connection has truly come fast and strong, and I was... I thought you fell in love. It's not something to fear, my darling girl. It's wonderful to love and be loved. The most precious thing in life."

Love. Not something Ciri had ever talked about before. Not with anyone. Nor could she ever remember wanting to fall in love. She had watched Geralt and Yennefer, and their love seemed… painful.

She took the cloth and wrung it out, gently sweeping it over Kain's face to clean him of blood. "I'm not in love. And I am not loved."

"Oh, darling…" Triss sighed softly. "He fought to the death for you. People don't do this for strangers.

And you are here. Not with Geralt or Yennefer."

"He fought because he is honorable," Ciri said, recognizing that Triss was far more of a romantic than Ciri herself. "And Geralt and Yennefer aren't dying." A sudden horrible thought occurred to her and she flashed her a look of fear. "Are they?"

"Oh no, no! They're both fine. I was just... I shouldn't have said anything."

Mousesack entered the room and approached, commanding the space the way that drove Triss away from the cot. She picked her bowl and retreated toward the door.

Mousesack scowled, his hand hovering over the wounds. He hemmed, muttering something, then closed his eyes to focus. His lips moved, and after he removed his hand to the wound lower, the one in the chest was skinned over.

He sat back, resting, when he was done.

"He always had his own magic, his own protection. It's hard to heal such. You can only do so much. I stopped the internal bleeding and closed the cuts, but the rest is up to him."

The Druid pulled the covers over him.

Ciri stood back to watch Mousesack work, her fingernails cutting into her palms as she nervously clenched her fists. The wounds faded but Kain did not look much better.

She looked at the old Druid. "What can I do? You said he needed warmth. More blankets?"

"That will grant some energy, yes," Mousesack nodded, getting up. "As for healing, it's a tricky business. Some people are open to healers' help - like witchers and average people who cannot do it themselves. Some who have their own powers are more 'closed' for it. They can be open to ones and closed to others. All I can do is close his wounds. I cannot give him the life force he's lost while fighting."

Then I will give him mine, Ciri thought. She did not know how that would work, if it even would. But she had to do something. She couldn't lose him and Vesemir both. The guilt was already tearing at her heart like a claw.

"I'll go get some more blankets," she said, excusing herself from the room to tend to that task.

"Gods help us," Mousesack murmured, eyeing the boy a moment before he followed Ciri out. There were still some wounded to tend to and the bodies to prepare for later burial.

Ciri found some extra blankets for Kain and returned to his room to drape them over him, tucking him in to make sure he would not get cold.

Then she sank to the floor with her back against the wall, eyeing the dried blood on her hands. She knew she should go out there to the courtyard, to help and assess and… apologize. But she couldn't. The image of Vesemir pinned to that wall like the rat-pelt in her room made her feel nauseous.

* * *

Yennefer nodded her understanding that he was talking about Ciri and released him slowly, sliding her hand along his arm to take his hand, to gently steer him away from the witchers that had crowded around Vesemir. "Want me to go with you or would you rather I stay and help with the bodies?" There was more than one to lay to rest and another hadn't been tended to yet.

"I… I want to see her alone," Geralt said carefully. "I'm sure she wants to see you, too. But I feel it has to be me to tell her… something."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know what I can possibly say to make her feel any better… or any of this any better. But I have to try."

That hurt, a lot more than she supposed he intended it to. Usually, at a time like this they'd have comforted her together and as a single family unit.

"Go," she said softly, letting her hand fall away from his own so that he could take the space and time to head in search of Ciri. "Let her know that if she needs me – I'm here. The same applies to you."

He nodded, couldn't quite muster a smile. It still hurt too much inside his chest.

Mousesack gave him directions, and he found Ciri sitting on the floor across from Kain's cot. She looked pale and lost. As if something important had been ripped out of her. Just like from all of them witchers.

He cast a glance at the boy – pale and still out cold – and sat down next to Ciri.

"I'm sorry, Ciri. It didn't end the way we all hoped. But we all knew what we signed up for."

She couldn't make herself look at him. The sense of shame was too strong. "Yes… we all knew. And yet we hoped. I hoped."

"You can't blame yourself for hoping," he said softly, pulling her to him. "You can't blame yourself for any of this – I know you want to, just the same as I. But we all know, no witcher ever dies in bed. Vesemir did his utmost to protect you. So has everybody else. Even Gwyncath who you know for mere days. It's not to have you blame yourself – it's to save you."

"I don't want to be saved," she murmured into his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his jerkin. "I just want the people I care about to stop dying. Maybe… Maybe if I had given myself to him…"

"No, Ciri, you couldn't," he cut in. "He has no right to think he can take you. We came here to prevent it. Don't dismiss what we have all done here with wondering about that. You deserve to have a free, happy life regardless of your powers."

"People don't always get what they deserve." She still could not make herself look at him, and felt perfectly content hiding her face against his chest. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm not. Just a few scratches, nothing bad." He drew her closer against his chest, kissing her head. "Don't beat yourself up, Ciri, please. You couldn't do anything to make Vesemir care less, or any of us, for that matter. You couldn't even tell this new friends of yours to go and spare himself a battle. He knew this place, he wasn't a stranger. No one blames you. Everybody fought for their own idea of home and what's right. No one regrets being here."

Ciri just couldn't help think she should have done more. That she should have entered the battle sooner. But there was no use contemplating that now.

"Who else?" she asked, sitting back. "Who else is dead?"

Geralt gave her a pained look, wishing there was a way to keep it from her, at least for a while. As stupid as the idea was. "Folan, Vigi, Guthlaf… and Coen."

Ciri nodded, clenching her jaw. "Have you seen Avallac'h?"

"I haven't. Mousesack says he was weak from magical exertion and went to the tower to rest."

"I almost killed you all..." she said, rubbing her hands across her face. "If not for Avallac'h there wouldn't have been anything left."

"Ciri, you can't blame yourself for your power that you can't control. Avallac'h, for that matter, has more to blame himself about because he never taught you. As if he doesn't really want you to get a hold of it. Because then his own hold on you would falter."

"It's not his fault. How can you teach someone something you have never experienced? Something you have never felt or known?"

"Then he can do nothing for you, except for trying to sell you to whoever can breed." He released a curt breath, unable to stop himself, even though he began to regret it before he finished the phrase. "Forgive me, Ciri. I shouldn't have."

"He saved your life. All of you," she pointed out.

"Along with his own," the Witcher played back. "He's not here to help any of us – thus he's done nothing to aid the fight. Nothing. The only thing he did was prevent his own death along with everyone else's."

"Doesn't change the fact he's the only one who can stop me when I…" She fell silent. "This power is a curse. It has brought nothing good. A constant danger to everyone."

She leaned back against the wall again, a humorless smile on her face.

"Should have drowned me at birth."

Geralt leaned to her, holding her face in his hands to make her eyes meet his. "Listen to me, Ciri. Whatever gifts or curses, whatever you may have or will have done, no matter anything – you are my destiny. I always love you. I always protect you. Forever. Just like you told me when you were a child: together forever. You understand me?"

His hands felt good on her skin and she leaned into his gentle hold, closing her eyes to keep from crying. And his words were exactly what she needed to hear, what she needed to remind herself that she belonged to someone.

She nodded. "I am your destiny. And you are mine."

"Always," he said, smiling a little before letting her go. "Don't ever forget."

He cast another glance at Kain, his smile dimming.

"Yennefer wants you to know she's there for you and probably wants to make sure you're all right."

Ciri threw a look over her shoulder at Kain as well. "I don't want to leave here. I don't want to see..." What she had done.

Geralt nodded silently. "We are having the pyres after dusk. I'm sure you will want to pay your respects. And as I said, you can't feel guilty for people loving you. No one outside this door blames you. They're glad you're still with us and not with the Hunt. They all have been fighting for it."

"I will come for the pyres," she said after a brief pause, finding the sentence itself hard to utter, reaching for Kain's limp hand to squeeze it with her own. "And once that is done, once Kain has healed, we can start planning our revenge."

Geralt sighed quietly, feeling sad for her pain. He still saw that little girl who almost fell off the wall of the keep while trying to defy their reason. Always burning for revenge.

"We'll discuss what's to come when we're done with all that's still here," he said, and got up to his feet. "I hope he recovers. He saved us tonight at the final gate."

"That's what he does," she said with a small smile. "Saves people."

The polar opposite of what she had been doing.

"Geralt?" she turned to look at him. "Try to get some rest? And eat something. Yen, too."

He had to smile a little. "Yes, try to say that to yourself. Go to your room, get some rest. You really need it."

He turned to Kain once again and caught a wince passing through his face. It was too brief, but then he stirred the slightest bit, his lips twitched, a whisper fell from them…

Geralt stared, thinking for a moment that he heard wrong, and trying to listen for more. But Kain's face was once again still and peaceful.

Geralt turned that feeble sound in his mind this way and that, trying to decipher, and then it came to him. It began to seem clear. He cast an uncertain look at Ciri, wondering if she heard or even understood it – probably not – and then went for the door.

_Mor__énn…_

Yes, this world had always been rather small and full of wonders.

Ciri had no intention of leaving this room when Kain was still unconscious and weak. He needed someone to watch over him in case things got worse.

But she moved from the floor once Geralt left, and took a seat on the edge of Kain's bed, still holding onto his hand with both of hers and closing her eyes, trying hard, so hard, to give him the strength and energy he needed to recover. "Wake up, Archer."

His thoughts were filled with Brokilon and his old acquaintance while Geralt made a detour to the kitchen and picked a small tray to carry some dried meat, fresh bread made with Triss and Keira's efforts and a bottle of mead.

He returned to Ciri and placed the tray on her lap.

"Don't argue. You need strength. This war is not over. You said so yourself."

She had been so lost in her own thoughts she didn't notice Geralt enter again until he spoke. She dropped Kain's hand as though she'd been burned, and stared down at the tray in her lap. "Oh. Right. Of course. Are you eating with me?"

He regarded her closely for a long moment, as if trying to read. "You truly want to lock yourself up here until the sun sets?"

Ciri watched him uncertainly, eventually letting her gaze drift to the tray in her lap. She picked up a slice of bread and tore it in two with her hands, slowly nibbling on one piece. "It's comfortable here. Down there… there will be questions. And exchanges of stories. And sorrow. Anger. I won't be able to stomach it."

"Mm." Geralt folded his arms watching her with a mock disbelief. "Never took you for a faint of heart. You sure you aren't merely afraid to leave him alone for a short while?"

Ciri shifted uncomfortably beneath his scrutinizing stare. "What if I leave and he dies? He'll be all alone."

"If he dies while you're here, what difference does it make? To him, at least? I've always thought that dying is a solitary affair. Something private. Besides, he's not that weak. Someone who wields such magic can't be. Like you."

Ciri scoffed, mostly at the part where he compared them in strength. Because that was ridiculous. "Dying after getting stabbed in the abdomen, drained of power, and having one's brains scrambled by some shrieking harpy is not weakness. It's part of being human. He is half-human, you know.

"And he may not know, but I will. I will know that I tried to be there for him the way he was for me. The way Vesemir–" She choked on her words and swallowed thickly, averting her gaze. "I can't leave him."

Geralt wanted to ask what happened there with Vesemir and Kain and her, but she wasn't ready. He recalled bits and pieces of what he had perceived from his ice trap, but it all resembled a strange dream.

"Mousesack helped him, I assume? You don't trust the Druid's skills? He'd be offended."

"Mousesack told me himself there is only so much he can do. That the rest is up to Kain now. My concern is justified," she said, suddenly feeling a tad defensive, as seemed to always be the case with Kain.

She took another piece of bread, chewing slowly.

"I'm not fighting you over this, Ciri," Geralt said softly. "Many of us owe him our lives. Same as you, by the way, since you opened the gate. If you feel that all you've done was putting everyone else in danger - no, it's not how it happened. You fought. Despite the orders."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I forget sometimes who you are. That you are really here. That I am not arguing with with a figment of my imagination." She gave a feeble apologetic smile before sobering again. "I'm not good with orders. Even when I try my best to obey."

She put the bread back on the tray and looked up at Geralt.

"It's been a long time since I have had someone my own age to spend time with. I think the last time I had friends was when I was—" she squinted, trying to remember, "—twelve or thirteen. A band of street thugs who called themselves The Rats. I was with them for a while. And these days I keep contemplating whether or not I really liked them. Was it true affection or was it just fear of being alone? For in the beginning they were not exactly kind… Not now that I think it through.

"Anyway, back then I cared. And I still left them to pursue a man I found curious. When I returned, I learned they had gone out to face the bounty hunter who was on our tail. Bonhart. You remember I told you about him?

"They were arrogant - The Rats. Thought themselves invincible. High on their crime and the fear they spread in people's hearts. But when faced with Bonhart, they all fell one by one. He had no trouble taking them all out.

"I arrived just in time to watch him eviscerate a girl called Mistle. We had become… close. And later he forced me to watch as he sawed their heads off. Trophies, you see." Her gaze drifted to Kain again. "The people I meet, the people I like, they have a tendency to die. I am trying to take care that won't happen to Kain. I am going to watch over him for as long as it takes."

Any story – or a shred of one – Geralt was getting from her these days were the ones from beyond the realms of nightmares. He wasn't sure he'd be sane had he gone through some of what she was still keeping from him – the Witcher knew in his heart of hearts it was much worse than he could have imagined.

Thing was, Geralt was deeply afraid to even try to imagine. A part of him needed to know the truth, and the other one was afraid to.

He squatted down in front of her, throwing a gander at Kain while she spoke. He fully understood where she was coming from. How many fears she had gathered to drive her actions and urges. He couldn't blame her for any of them. He would've felt the same, he imagined. Geralt never had too many friends outside of the guild. Every true one was precious.

"I understand," he said finally, watching her try to eat. "Try to trust him. He didn't strike me as someone eager to die. He'll get better. He'd have died out there in the courtyard, had it not been so."

Ciri smiled a little. "He's not a quitter. He keeps telling me not to make it easier for Eredin. To not let him win. I think he would feel the same now. And he has his Griffin to get back to."

She picked up the piece of bread again and attempted to feed it to Geralt, an impish gleam in her eye as she did.

"I am glad we are back together again. As it was meant to be. You need someone to take care of you, too."

He smiled, accepting the bread. "Yeah, I've been doing a poor job of it on my own, Dandelion will tell you all about it if you try to ask questions." He chuckled and took a bite. "He's right, though. Gwyncath. Never even think of making it easier for any of them."

"I think anyone who knows me will say I do not make it easy on anyone," she replied, tearing off a chunk of meat with her teeth before chewing. "How well did you know Kain back then?"

"Only through other people and what they talked about. We never spoke personally and never ended up in the same parties for training or fun, even when their School was our guest on our land. I didn't even remember I ever glimpsed him at all until I saw him in Larvik."

"It's strange to think of you as a kid," she admitted, helping herself to another piece of meat.

He sneered subtly. "Everybody has been one at some point. However, we weren't as much kids anymore when our joined trainings began back then."

"I suppose not," she mused. "Do you think I would have benefitted from training with others my own age?"

"Of course. It is unfortunate that time was gone when you arrived to Kaer Morhen."

"Not sure how well I would have handled having to share your attention with other children," she teased, finally taking a sip of the mead that had been tempting her.

Geralt laughed quietly. "We spoiled you rotten, haven't we."

"Spoiled me with love? Yes. You all did. Even Lambert, though he would never admit it."

"No, he wouldn't," Geralt agreed, smiling.

"How is Yennefer doing? That spell must have drained her completely?"

"It has, indeed. She seemed tired but doing fine so far. We all will need some rest before the night comes. She will take care of herself."

"Once upon a time you would have taken care of her," she pointed out, watching him curiously before tapping the side of his head with her fingers. "Still nothing there?"

He sighed, gave a shrug. "What am I supposed to do, tuck her in bed? She's a grown woman and knows what she has to do. My concern right now is you - you need to rest, have a shuteye."

Ciri smiled a little, impishly, mischievously. "I don't think that's what you'd usually do to make her feel better. Though the bed-part may not be entirely wrong..." She sobered, shaking her head. "I'm not ready to face Eredin again right this moment."

Geralt frowned. "Do you see him every time you sleep? Perhaps there is something Mousesack could do. Some herbs for dreamless sleep."

"Yes. Every night. It's not nightmares, it's… He dreamwalks. He finds me, my mind, when I am most vulnerable. And he's..." She hesitated, a flush of red tinting her cheeks, unable to look him in the eyes. "He makes me feel things I shouldn't. Things I don't feel when I am awake. But in there… It is like I have no control, whatsoever."

His frown darkened. "It seems unfair that you have no protection against it. You have to talk to Yennefer. I'm sure she would think of an amulet to shield your mind from his invasion. You fight magic with magic."

Ciri nodded thoughtfully. She had not even considered asking anyone for help. It was a privilege she had not had for a long, long time. "I shall talk to her about it."

"Good." He stood up. "Try to rest, nevertheless. Dreams might not come - he might be too busy counting his losses and plotting his next assault."

"To be honest, I don't think we even made a dent in his army," she said, handing him back the tray but keeping the cup of mead that was still quite full. "He wanted Kain, too. Seems he appreciated his skills on the battlefield. And I think it occurred to him he might be able to use him to control me." She looked to Kain's unconscious face. "We have to keep him safe."

Geralt looked at Kain, thinking about it. "It was dangerous to reveal his abilities, but he didn't have a choice. There were too many portals in the woods, and pits and bombs didn't do much on their own.

But that also means he can hold his ground against a significant group. He's far from helpless."

"That is not the point," she said softly. "I am not helpless either, but once run down and hunted for years and years, facing an army of hundreds upon hundreds… it does not matter how good of a fighter one is.

"I worry he will leave when he has healed. I understand his desire to and do not blame him for it in the least. But then he will be alone. Just him and his Griffin. And if Eredin finds him then..." She shook her head. "He was already on the run from the law. And you lot. I fear by choosing to stay by his side at Skellige, I have condemned him to an even worse fate."

"In any case, we have to wait for him to wake up and then decide."

"Yes," she agreed, taking a swig of her mead, unaware of the foam-mustache left on her upper lip. "Go rest. I will try to get some as well."

Geralt composed a mock stern look and wagged his finger at her, "Only if you promise."

He planted a kiss on the top of her head and left her alone with her duty.

She smiled, watching him go, and slowly but steadily drained her mug. She placed it on the floor where she wouldn't accidentally knock it over, and shifted further back on the bed, lifting Kain's legs to rest over her lap so she could lean back against the wall. It was not long before she drifted off.


	14. Chapter 14

Waking up was a hard work, like pulling a heavy cart behind him while climbing a mountain.

_Don't move... Don't move..._

It's not her who Kain saw when he finally surfaced to weary bones and exhausted muscles of his body.

Ciri was sleeping sitting up in the foot of his cot.

It had to be going on for a long time - he felt numb from lying in the same position.

"I hope it won't become a habit," he said when she stirred, as well. "You keeping watch at my dying bed. The tendency is becoming alarming."

Ciri felt elated at hearing the sound of his voice but she wasn't sure her sleepy expression quite managed to convey that. "Stop dying and I'll stop watching you in bed."

She sat up and rubbed her neck, gently moving out from under his legs. "How are you feeling?"

"I never tried to die, princess. Nor am I going to start any time soon."

He took a deep breath, wincing subtly at some distant inner reminders where he had been stabbed. He assumed Mousesack took care of the most damage, if Kain was still alive.

"I feel like I've been building this keep stone by stone all night by myself. I have to get outside."

"Want to take the quick route?" she offered, extending him her hand. "The one where you won't bump into people and their questions? You should probably put your shirt back on though. It's not exactly warm out."

"I don't mind people," he said, sitting up cautiously. His head swam, vision darkened for a long moment before it came right. "Got some to thank."

He glanced at the Cat School jerkin, dark with blood, and reached for the Skelligan jacket, putting it on without the shirt.

"I'll be needing a new shirt, it seems," he said, fastening the jacket's straps.

"I'd offer to make you one, but I'm afraid that is not where my talents lie. Yennefer might be willing, though. Or Triss." Ciri got to her feet and picked up the empty mug, bracing herself for the world beyond this room now she no longer had an excuse to hide here.

"There might be some in the chests with new armor sets in the armory. I'll stop by there." Kain looked at her inquiringly. "You're coming, too? You should get more sleep. Actually lying down this time. Is your neck all right?"

Ciri hesitated a moment. "Yes, you are probably right. I should go sleep."

It would give her yet another hour of avoidance, of which she was becoming an expert. She headed for the door, paused as she reached it.

"The funerals will be tonight after dark," she said, just so he was aware.

She headed across the hall to her own room.

* * *

"Ah, our youth has recovered," Zoltan announced as Kain strolled through the kitchen where most of their troops had settled for a snack and rest. "How ye feelin, kitten-lad?"

"Planning on getting better than just walking without tripping," he said, his eyes flicked to the Druid. He understood without a word and went for the door. Kain made to follow.

"And Ciri? You seen her?" Geralt asked.

"She agreed to take a nap," he said from the doorway. "She looked like she needed it."

The Witcher nodded, and Kain followed Mousesack outside. The yard was empty, except for Hjalmar and Roche dragging the fallen hunters' bodies out, one by one. Each was too heavy for one.

"Thank you for patching me up," Kain told the Druid.

"Don't mention it. I only did a little. The rest you did yourself. How you feeling now?"

"I need to heal, but out there," he jerked his chin toward the woods. "Lying in bed never does it for me."

"I know, I know," he nodded, stroking his beard. "Druid way. It runs deep in you. Other witchers are in the woods, collecting wood for pyres. It shall be a sad goodbye."

Kain looked under his feet, feeling a pang of guilt. He still remembered in all the highlighted detail how Vesemir died. And then…

He looked up to Mousesack, frowning. "What happened in the end? We lost the battle. We should all be dead."

He sighed, his face expressing a brief struggle to formulate the answer. "The girl, Cirilla. Her power took over when she reached the depth of despair. Like her late mother, she has the ability to destroy everything around her in a sort of trance. It comes at the peak of emotion, dark emotion. She couldn't stop herself and we'd all be dead, indeed, had her elvish mentor not stepped in to calm her. It's why she needs him close. No one else can do it for her."

Kain nodded pensively, mulling it over, thinking of the horrid shriek he recalled last. It was her, all along. "No one can be given a power they cannot control," he reasoned. "She should know how to do it."

"Of course she has to know, but she does not, for no training reached success before. See, my boy, one cannot train another to use a power one never knew or possessed. It takes inner knowledge of the said power to teach another one to wield it.

"Now, go ahead, take your healing time. We shall all be ready for the nightfall."

He went back to the keep, and Kain strolled for the stables to borrow a horse.

* * *

In a couple more hours, they had managed to clean out all the Hunt bodies from the keep – they piled them up outside in three of the pits Roche and Ves had prepared and the sorceresses set them on fire that reduced them to ashes that they had buried there beneath the dirt.

Lambert and Eskel had finished with the wood – Hjalmar had helped – and they were left with the sad task of preparing the bodies for the pyres. The sun had begun to recline already.

Kain returned looking a bit fresher, his hair damp from what Geralt assumed a lake's water. He brought some fish, and Zoltan made a stew someone in Novigrad taught him a while back. Geralt himself had taken a lazy old man's way instead of the cold lake, and taken Yennefer up on her offer for a warm bath while Yennefer herself had enjoyed a short nap.

Despite having a break, the inner strain didn't let go just yet. They all were bracing for the goodbye moment.

* * *

Ciri managed to get some sleep on and off, but mostly the tension was just too great.

When the sun finally started to shift in the sky, she plucked up her courage and made her way up to Avallac'h's tower. She knocked on the door.

"Come in, Zireael," he called from within, and she obeyed, closing the door behind her again and rested her back against it.

The Sage had been standing near the window, watching the preparations down below. He turned to her, looking a little more tired than usual. For a long moment, they just stared at one another. Then, he opened his arms wide.

She went to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and let him embrace her in return, his fingers playing with her hair.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You may have disobeyed my orders, but what happened out there was not your fault. You know this, yes?"

She had expected something entirely different from him. She had expected sternness and to be chided, to have him rub her failure in her face. The softness of his voice broke her. She pressed her face to his chest.

"Come now," he soothed, one hand cradling the back of her head. "Do not cry, me elaine luned."

"Don't call me that," she sniffled into the front of his robes. "That's what _he_ calls me."

Avallac'h was silent a moment. "Do not cry, me beag beann'shie."

She snorted with mild amusement. "Banshee? Really?"

"You scream like a whole pack of them," he replied and she could tell his voice was laced with good-natured ribbing.

She pulled back to look at him and smiled ever so slightly. A smile he returned. He wiped the tears from her cheek with his thumb, then gestured for the door. "Let us go downstairs together. I believe the ceremony for our fallen allies will begin shortly."

She nodded, swallowing thickly as they started walking.

"Have courage, Zireael. You are not alone."

* * *

Kain helped Geralt and Eskel carry the bodies to the pyre wood piles outside the keep. It was a beautiful spot they chose, on a cliff under a tree.

Vesemir was sharing his last bed with Coen. Both looked peacefully asleep. The pyre next to them was for the fallen Skelligans. Hjalmar stood next to it, head lowered, muttering something akin to prayer.

"I'll go see where Ciri is," Geralt said.

Kain nodded, and stayed by Vesemir and Coen's side. He peered from their bodies to the scenery below. The sky was beginning to turn purple.

Geralt found Ciri in the main hall, strolling toward the door with Avallac'h beside her, both looking solemn.

He spared the Sage a nod and focused on Ciri.

"How do you feel? Have you slept? Kain said you were going to."

"A little," she replied. "Not sure I'll be able to fully until after…" Ciri gestured towards the doors and outside. "You? Got some rest?"

He nodded. "We all did what we could." He regarded her. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Meaning it was likely she never would. But that did not matter. The world did not come to a halt just because she wished it to.

She headed for the door with Geralt, pausing when she noticed Avallac'h was not following. "Coming?"

"In a bit," he said "These were your people. These are your customs, not mine. I shall honor their sacrifice in my own way."

She had no idea what that meant, so she simply nodded and proceeded out to the courtyard.

Geralt accompanied her to the cliff, then halted. "Are you going to be fine? I'll get the others. Kain is there." He waved a hand toward the pyres.

"Of course I will be," she assured him, patting him once on the shoulder before setting off towards the ominous pyres that loomed like threatening shadows.

She inhaled sharply when she got a good look at Vesemir and Coen's faces, so pale and lifeless they almost looked unrecognizable.

Kain turned to her footfalls shuffling against the fallen leaves. He stepped back from the wooden pedestal toward her.

"I'm sorry it came to this. Wish I could've done more."

"More than saving most of my friends' lives?" she asked with a small smile. "Now who is being hard on himself?"

She tentatively reached out to straighten the medallion around Vesemir's neck, eyes prickling with tears.

"It doesn't feel real."

"It won't for a while."

It did look real - there was no life in the bodies, no light left. But it felt painful to look at them. Especially for someone who grew up under their care.

"I've seen a lot of people die. But never anyone I was this close to. My mother died when I was a baby, so I don't remember. And I never got to see my grandmother's body. This is… different."

"Everything is different when you care. But nothing disappears for good. What they taught you will live in you and all of us for as long as we remember. A weak solace for you right now, but it's there, nonetheless."

"Yes," Ciri agreed, on both counts. She took the time to stroke Vesemir's hand, then turned to Coen, gently pushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead.

Kain studied her back for a moment. "You can't blame yourself for this, you know. They chose to fight for you. Because they cared."

"I know. And I am very grateful for what they've done, what they continue to do." Ciri looked to him over her shoulder. "That includes you, by the way. But you can't deny they would not have to fight this battle had it not been for me in the first place. I can't help but feel responsible. Just by existing."

"You exist for a reason, Ciri. You wouldn't, otherwise. Nor would you have your power. This world needs you the way you are. And they understood it. So should you."

She nodded. "I would just like for that reason to be something other than being used for breeding."

A jolt of cold recognition thrust through his spine. "What… Is that their goal? To claim your child? What can a child do for them?"

She sighed. "Well, the Aen Elle claims my human forefather stole the Elder Blood from them. They wanted me to give them a child, so they could reclaim it. The Lodge of Sorceresses wanted to whore me out to a prince, become his mistress and have his child, to secure their position at court. And Vilgefortz, the mage, wanted to impregnate me so he could draw blood from the fetus and inject himself with it." She paused, eyeing the darkening skyline. "As for Eredin… I think he simply wants to use my power to allow him and his riders to travel the worlds again."

That was sickening. And a tiny bit of familiarity made it sicker for him.

"These three sorceress helping you. Aren't they from the Lodge? If the Lodge is helping anyone, there is a price good enough for them to bother."

"The Lodge does not really exist anymore as far as I understand. Most of the previous members have been executed. Yennefer lost their favor long ago, and I suppose she has not been a member since I was a child. As for Triss and Keira… I trust the former, not so much the latter."

"The Lodge will exist for as long as at least two or three of them breathe. They will always try to get their power back. Be careful with them. They're watching you and assess their advantages at all times."

"I am aware." Though Ciri doubted at least Triss would ever try to use her to gain more power. And Yennefer… out of the question. She had never had any such motives. "Have you any experience with them?"

"My mother made it very clear when I was a child. I never forgot."

Geralt appeared with the raven-haired sorceress in tow.

"We shall begin," he said.

The rest of the people were slowly gathering around the pyres.

Yennefer moved to stand beside Geralt, taking an immediate hold of his hand as she joined the gathering circle of friends preparing to say their final goodbyes to their fallen comrades. Happy at least that Ciri appeared to have found someone to comfort her, as well, and that he was on his feet. The next few minutes was going to be hard on everyone.

"Made what very–" Ciri fell silent when Geralt and Yennefer joined them, pushing down her curiosity to focus on the moment.

People gathered around the two pyres. Mousesack was carrying a lit torch which he offered to Geralt before he turned to the rest. "Does anyone wish to say a few words?"

Ciri didn't. Couldn't. Had no idea what she would even say.

"There is no Kaer Morhen without Vesemir," Eskel said. "And Coen..." He sighed and shook his head slowly.

Lambert merely pressed his lips together, looking at the fallen witchers. Keira stood next to him, also looking sad.

"Vesemir was one of the best of us," Letho drawled from behind the main row. "I didn't know Coen, but he seemed an all right guy."

"Cryin shame about all those we lost, aye..." Zoltan said. "Brave witchers along with valiant Skelligan brothers. Rest easy now, lads... Rest easy."

"We never mourn a valiant death in battle where I'm from," Hjalmar said. "It's the greatest honor of all. They all share it. They all shall honor the gods tonight. Hail great warriors."

"Vesemir was a great teacher," Kain said. "One that made me wish at times I were a Wolf. Coen's bravery and will to fight till the end no matter the wounds is admirable. A true Wolf from under Vesemir's wing."

"A true man of honor whose strength and knowledge will be missed tremendously," Triss interjected quietly, tears in her green eyes as she stepped up beside Geralt on his other side. Her hand came to rest on his elbow, as though she wanted to touch him, to hug him, perhaps, but didn't know how to do that within the situation, settling for his closeness. "He'll be forever within our hearts and minds."

With this she looked at Geralt, a silent 'I'm here for you if you need it', a sentiment Yennefer echoed by squeezing his hand gently and then releasing him so that he could get on with it, so that he could take the step forward without his mentor and take over as he now would have to. He was the next in line for that position and Vesemir had been molding him for it for some time now, even going so far as to let him take the lead on most things.

Ciri wrapped her arms around herself, gaze fixed on Vesemir's face as the others said their goodbyes and honored the fallen with their words. She wondered if Vesemir would be disappointed in her for not speaking. But then she decided, no, he would not have been. He knew what was in her heart. He knew how much she loved him.

She moved a little closer to Kain, shoulder to shoulder, taking comfort in his presence and proximity. And for once she was not ashamed of the tears that silently ran down her cheeks, only wiping them away once they collected underneath her chin.

The torch weighed a ton in his hand when Geralt approached the pyre along with Hjalmar who went to his people's one.

The Witcher couldn't believe it was Vesemir lying before him with no life left in his body, still so strong and trained. He couldn't believe Coen didn't make it, either. And yet, his eyes saw it for what it was.

Geralt let out a long exhale, searching himself for strength to raise the hand and do what was needed.

"I'll remember everything you taught me and the sacrifice you made," he murmured. "I'll carry it with me always. Goodbye, my friends. Thank you."

He took another breath and put the fire to the wood. It crackled, grew brighter as he slowly backed away. He saw Ciri's face, wet with tears, her shoulder pressing into Kain as if she would fall without him.

"Don't blame yourself," he reminded her in a soft voice.

"I won't," she breathed, though it was easier said than done. "I blame Eredin Bréacc Glas." And she couldn't wait to get the opportunity to drive her sword through his heart.

The fire roared to life atop the pyres, making those of them who stood closest squint against the brightness and heat it exuded. She reluctantly tore her gaze away to search the small crowd at her side. Avallac'h was nowhere in sight. She wondered what he was doing.

Yennefer wanted nothing more than to go up behind Geralt, to slide her arms around his waist, and yet, she knew he needed this solitude for himself, that he needed to grieve the loss of his mentor and not have to figure out what comfort she was trying to provide when he hardly understood it.

Only Triss had no such issue.

She immediately took the opportunity to press herself to his side once the fire had been lit, to grapple hold onto his arm as if he were the only living human alive to anchor her.

"I can't believe he's gone," she murmured, her voice cracking with the first signs of tears. Yennefer stepped out of the way of where they were, watching as the fire steadily consumed the fallen, feeling a bane of something within herself that was akin to grief.

She'd never been particularly close to anyone that died, but seeing how broken her family was, how distressed they were was enough to hit her in places that usually stayed untouched.

She was just happy that they had someone to give them what was needed in this time.

Ciri especially. Yennefer had never seen her connect with anyone as well as she appeared to be with Kain. Not on an emotional or even dependent level outside of their circle.

Ciri forced her eyes off Vesemir's face, didn't want to see it charred and burned, and focused on the medallion on his chest instead. Something came over her all of a sudden, a need to not let him go, to not let him disappear from her life completely. Memories and lessons learned were not enough.

She rushed forward and reached for the medallion, yanking it off and out of the fire. The metal was hot and burned her hand, but it didn't matter. She squeezed the Wolf tightly in her fist. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to the old witcher, then walked away, unable to watch as the flames devoured him whole.

Geralt's heart contracted in pained sympathy, going out to Ciri as she clutched the medallion in her hand; her fist shook a little. He reckoned she burned it badly. He didn't move to stop her as she walked away. She needed a moment.

Kain was watching her go, too.

"Va faill," Avallac'h's calm voice came from behind Geralt's shoulder as if he grew out of thin air. "For those who remain death can never take precedence over life. Pay your last respects to your fallen comrades, and then we should hold council."

This time Geralt heard him walk away. He didn't care for it. The orange brightness of the pyre glistened and swelled as his eyes welled up with tears.

Triss squeezed his arm gently, then began to walk away, as well. Probably following the Sage and Yennefer with Ciri.

Yennefer's gaze fixated on Ciri, on her display of emotion, and followed her as she ran away. Yennefer waited a beat, giving her space, and then went after her.

Ciri let her fist fall to her side as she headed down the slope towards the keep, still clutching the burning hot amulet that made her feel like she had just been branded.

She didn't enter the keep but came to a halt on a grassy patch atop a cliff overlooking the valley below Kaer Morhen, eyes set on the mountains in the distance.

She could hear footsteps following behind her but didn't turn to look.

As soon as Yennefer saw her stop, she watched her girl for a while, leaving her to her thoughts for about a minute, letting her come to terms with what none of them could change.

Yennefer wished she could, though, that she could go back in time and fix this for Ciri, do this fight smarter and, perhaps, with more force.

But it was what it was.

No matter how many times they changed it up, it wasn't going to get any easier. The outcome could even be worse.

After the brief moment had passed, Yennefer walked up behind her, circled her arms around Ciri's shoulders from behind, and drew her back against her, just standing, enjoying the peace provided by the breeze and trying to shower her with the only comfort that the sorceress could. _Herself_.

Ciri tensed slightly when a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, until she recognized Yen. She didn't speak and Ciri was glad for it. She didn't know what to say, anyway.

Ciri leaned back against her, letting the sorceress support her.

More people were coming. Ciri supposed not everyone wanted to stay and watch until the end. It would take a long time.

Yennefer buried her face against ashen hair when Ciri relaxed against her, standing like that for a long time, feeling as though it was just them on the edge of the world.

And for right now, with what was to be expected to come, it made a lot more sense.

Their battle wasn't over.

Triss came after Avallac'h, and while the Sage picked a spot to stand like a statue, she settled on a huge boulder rock.

"Does any of you remember what happened after Eredin and his knights breached into the inner courtyard?" Avallac'h folded his arms, observing them all in turn.

"I'm… not so sure," Triss ventured shyly. "It's like a strange dream… all's in bits and pieces."

Avallac'h looked to Yennefer, then back to Triss, and nearly rolled his eyes.

"Zireael can harness incredible amounts of the Power. Why has no one taught her to control it?"

"Avallac'h…" Ciri sighed, briefly closing her eyes. "This is not the time for this."

"Now is not the time to be discussing this," Yennefer repeated, tightening her hold on Ciri to let her know that she was here for her girl and would back up any decision. "We're grieving, Elf. I know your kind doesn't take lightly to said emotion but some of us need it to be able to function." And it wasn't herself she was referring to. "You can give us a few more minutes."

"I'm afraid there are not much minutes," Avallac'h said in his calm, unperturbed voice. "If you think this is over and Eredin shall rethink his ambitions – you're deadly wrong."

Geralt sighed, clearly annoyed, as he and Kain walked toward them.

"We thought you have been teaching Ciri," Triss said.

"I could only do so much on the constant run," he said. "But those of you who have been with her from the child years – whatever you tried to teach her was to no avail."

"Avallac'h," Geralt called, drawing the Elf's attention from the riled up sorceresses. "I never had a chance to talk to you after the battle. I thank you for your help and for looking after Ciri."

The Elf's face didn't express any shift of emotion. "You can thank me later. Now we must take Zireael from here and hide her. And then gather a greater force."

Ciri stood by herself to the side, enveloped in her grief, the chain of the medallion still hanging between her fingers. Kain stopped a few feet short, giving her space while he listened to their council.

"But how can we?" Triss spread her arms, baffled. "Anyone, everyone we could ever count on, came here to Kaer Morhen. There is no one else we could ask. Nowhere else to go."

And they were back to not paying attention to what Ciri said.

She opened her burned hand and peered down at the mark the medallion had left behind, trying to let the pain steady her emotions, to ground her.

It did not have much of an effect.

Yennefer knew that Eredin was going to come back for them, and that time was limited, but despite what she thought, and even if she agreed with him, Ciri needed this time for peace.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long, and everyone else had appeared, as well.

"Philippa Eilhart, Margarita Laux-Antille and Francesca Findabair." Just a few names.

"The lodge?" Triss asked, recognition dawning on her features as she looked at Yennefer.

"We need magic. A lot of magic and the best way to do that is to unite with our enemies."

That was a grave suggestion. From the corner of his eyes, Geralt noticed even Kain turn to cast a dumbfounded eye at them.

"I don't trust the Lodge one bit," Geralt said, and shook his head. "But it seems like we truly have no choice."

Kain stepped closer to Ciri, held out his hand in the direction of her hurt one. "Let me help with that?"

She fastened Vesemir's medallion to her belt, looking up when Kain approached. She smiled ever so slightly and hid her hand behind her back, as if it would make him forget it. "Later. For right now, it's helping me."

He didn't argue, though doubted it helped anything.

"You do realize, however, that if the Lodge even considers helping us with this, they would demand a price," Geralt reasoned, looking between Yennefer and Triss. "What would you think this price can be? It has been very obvious for quite some time what they want."

"I don't trust them either, but sometimes we have to open the doors to our enemies in order to succeed. If this battle and what we've lost had taught us anything, then it's that we need magic, a lot of it – and they have it."

"I'll go with you," Triss volunteered.

Yennefer turned to address her, surprised she didn't have any more to add.

"I even had a few more names we can add to that list."

Yennefer nodded, taking a closer step to the circle. "We should go as soon as."

"What they want, they can't have," Ciri reminded them all over her shoulder, in case they had forgotten. "Don't make them promises I don't intend to keep."

"No one will promise anything of sorts," Geralt said, turning to Ciri. "Whatever they want from you is out of the question." He turned to Yennefer and Triss. "Are we clear about this?"

"Never," Yennefer said. They'd be coming at their own accord for negotiations that had very little to do with Ciri herself. "I'll make sure that it's clear."

"Gods, Geralt, of course we know," Triss said. "And of course we will always protect her. You know that. Ciri," she turned to Ciri. "You know this, right, my dear girl?"

"I know," she said, turning back to Kain again. "It's them I don't trust."

Yennefer glanced at Triss, gauging her past decisions, and then walked over to Geralt. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, murmuring that she wouldn't be far off and would send for him as soon as she had news, and then moved to do the same with Ciri.

As much as the sorceress wanted to be here for them, there wasn't much time to waste.

Kain felt very much out of place while they discussed their further strategies. A part of him kept wondering why he was still there.

"This is a fair suggestion," Avallac'h said eventually. "We do need a lot of magical help. Sole violence and swords don't do much to the kind of threat we are facing. Aen Elle are the people of magic as much as sword."

"All right," Geralt said. "But we have to be careful with them. We can't let our guard down, no matter what they would say. We cannot trust them. We should know better."

Ciri trusted Yennefer with the negotiations much more than she did Triss. It was not that Ciri thought Triss didn't have her best interests at heart, but the chestnut-haired sorceress had never been able to stand up to the Lodge the same way Yennefer had.

Ciri hugged Yen when she came to her, and whispered into her hair. "Be careful. And take care of yourself."

"We should start training as soon as possible," Avallac'h said. "Zireael has to learn how to control her abilities. We cannot afford something like that… incident to happen again."

Geralt scowled, casting a quick glance at Ciri. "That training really that necessary?"

"You might have not seen what happened," Avallac'h said. "An outburst of Power that mighty could be a greater threat than the Hunt itself can present."

The Witcher hated it, but couldn't disagree. "Fine. Then we should stay here a while longer. Yennefer, you and Triss go to Novigrad, and then we'll join you and meet at Dandelion's inn."

"We'll meet you there," Yennefer confirmed, stepping back from the group, heading into the keep to gather what meagre belongings she wanted for this trip, and then made quick work of getting to Novigrad.

Ciri's ire rose the more she heard Avallac'h talking and suddenly she was before him in a flash of green, bumping into him just enough to make him stumble ever so slightly, forcing him to acknowledge her. "Stop talking about me as though I am not here," she demanded through gritted teeth. "And if you think you can prepare me to feel nothing next time someone I love dies, you are wasting your time."

Avallac'h raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't what I said, Zireael. Nor what I implied. All I suggest is to train you and teach you control. You do need it. Everybody around you needs it – it's their safety I implore you to remember of. Do you disagree?"

"Then what are you going to do, hm? How are you going to help me when you have no idea what it feels like?" She stared him down, looking at him so intently she suddenly felt a pang of guilt. She took a step back to not invade his space anymore, trying to calm that temper of hers. "I'm sorry, I… You have a great deal of knowledge, Avallac'h, I will grant you that. And I know you were made for Lara. The perfect match of powers and knowledge. With her I am sure things would have been different. Easier. But I am not her. And there is no teaching me control, when I cannot use my powers to practice. We will have, what? Two days? Three before it becomes a real concern The Hunt will try again? There is not enough time."

"If you will waste your time thinking there is no time left – then there is no point in anything, is there?" Avallac'h said. "Instead of lamenting over what you cannot change, get yourself together and try to do what you can. For your friends if not for yourself."

"I have been trying!" she all but shouted at the elf. "For two whole years that is all we have been doing! And the only time we saw the tiniest of improvement was when we were in a world where Eredin could not follow. So what, pray tell, has changed now?"

Avallac'h stared at her for a long time, either contemplating or merely waiting to see whether her temper would cool down on its own. There was nothing on his face to suggest his true intentions for the pause.

"Very well, then," he said finally with a pensive nod. "That means hiding and running is the only option you support. We can do that. For as long as it takes. But we must leave immediately."

"Are you serious?" Geralt demanded, glancing wildly between them. "Our friends just died. Let her mourn in peace."

"We have no luxury of time, Gwynbleidd," Avallac'h said. "Zireael has just pointed that out."

Lost in this state of anger and grief, Ciri did not particularly care how much sense the Elf made. Oh, how pragmatic he was being. "If it comes to that, I shall go on my own. Without you. For as you just pointed out, I am a danger to everyone."

She turned on her heel and strode back for the keep, Vesemir's medallion swinging at her hip.

"Ciri! Dammit." Geralt looked from Ciri's retreating back to Avallac'h impassive face, his own darkening in anger. "Why would you do this now? I asked you to let her be for just a bit."

"And I have explained that no one shall wait for her or any bits," he responded serenely. "It is not me who is the problem here, Gwynbleidd. It is those who do not care about your grief. Those who shall strike while you're at your weakest. Believe me when I tell you that Eredin knows perfectly how unprepared you all are right now after the battle and losses. He shall not be kind."

Geralt made to go past him, but he caught the Witcher's arm.

"Not now," he said. "There is no use to speak to her now. She will not think clearly. Let her be alone. We will talk later." He turned and began to walk away.

"Don't worry about her," Triss said, slipping off the rock she had been sitting on quietly like a mouse, and came to him, snuggling up to his side in support. "You know our Ciri, she has a temper. She will be fine in an hour. Avallac'h might be right on this." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I shall go get my things. Yen and I are departing."

"Good luck," he said, squeezing a small smile out for her sake. "Thank you for everything."

She beamed. "I'll always help you. You know that, Geralt. See you soon." With a parting smile, she left.

"You know it's all horseshit what he said," Kain spoke. Geralt almost forgot he was still there, arms folded. It was already dark, and if not for his hair, he could be nearly invisible. "He can't tell you what to do or not to do for Ciri when you know it in your gut. Whose gut will you trust, Geralt? When would you ever trust anyone else with someone you love?"

Geralt watched him stroll away, speechless.

Then he went to Ciri's room, hoping to find her there or on his way.

* * *

Ciri heard Geralt call out for her but did not stop. She couldn't stay there any longer with all of them watching her. It was too much.

She moved to the inner courtyard of the keep, but instead of going inside the castle itself, she veered to the right. Last night this place had been riddled with portals and enemies, but now it was empty once more. If not for the trampled grass, you could not have told something had happened here.

She jumped up on the beams where she used to train as a child, pushing her whole body against the heavy wooden pendulum whose purpose it was to knock her off her stance.

She drew her sword and closed her eyes, going over the routines the Witchers had taught her as a child, one by one, incorporating her powers of speed and movement to fight her imaginary enemies. It had a more calming effect than she could have hoped for.

Geralt found her practicing with the pendulum. It was an almost unreal sight, and yet deeply, gut-wrenchingly familiar. He didn't want to disturb her at once, and leaned against the wall to watch, to give her a chance to calm down and sense his presence.

She took full advantage of her power, practically no more than a green blur with a glint of steel. Who knew how long it would be until she could truly be herself again once they left here?

She didn't know how long she stayed up there, but when she finished, her sword-wielding arm had started to feel sore. She sheathed her weapon and opened her eyes, catching sight of Geralt watching her from a short distance away.

She leapt off the beams in a backflip like they had always demanded, and landed nimbly on her feet. "You angry?" she asked eventually, keeping her back to him under the pretense of adjusting her armor.

He pondered this. "No, anger doesn't quite describe it. What it is close to is an utter devastation at having to lose you again, and this time – who knows. Might be forever. Vesemir, Coen and all of us have been fighting to prevent it from happening again."

He heaved a sigh, and detached from the wall. He felt a bit numb, as if his heart was already falling to be shattered in a few moments. Geralt couldn't believe it even more than Vesemir's death hours ago. It was all a nightmare, one of those to torture him so many nights.

"It's not about me or any of us, though," he heard himself say. "It's your choice. No one can stop you. Have you decided?"

She pursed her lips because she could feel them trembling. Like she was about to cry. Ciri had been doing that a lot today. "If I was brave I would go. I would leave this world and go to another. Make the jump every other day to sufficiently scramble The Hunt's signals. They would chase me through the universe — but away from here. This world would be safe. From them at least.

"But I am not brave, Geralt. I am frightened. I don't want to be alone again."

"Ciri," he said quietly, unable to put every bit of heart-wrenching love he had for her into the sound of her name coming off his tongue, but wishing, nonetheless. "You don't ever need to be alone. Ever. Not while I live."

He came up behind her, locking his arms gently around her, nuzzling into the side of her head, his eyes closing. He wished to never let her go and forever keep her in his embrace safe from harm.

"You don't have to be alone. You always have me. Always."

Ciri exhaled a sigh of relief the moment his arms wrapped around her and she leaned back into him, knowing he would be able to support her weight with ease. "I don't want to run anymore. I don't want to hide. It's killing me. I need to fight."

"We'll fight," he said into her hair. "We'll do whatever it takes to free you from them. But to do that, we have to work on some defenses. This battle has taught us some things. We have to regroup and do it smarter next time. We know now what we lack. We shall do our best to take Eredin down once and for all. I promise. You don't have to run. But practicing would not be amiss. Avallac'h is harsh due to his… character. But he's not entirely wrong about training. If the Hunt already knows where to find you, then you might as well learn how to use your gifts. In whatever time we have left while they regroup."

"Yes," she breathed, suddenly very tired. "It would be immensely satisfying to kill Eredin with what he most desires."

"Before we kill, you must rest. _Actually_ rest, Ciri. Have a good sleep. Some of our guests are leaving as soon as the dawn breaks, so you must take your chance and ask Mousesack for the herbs to aid your sleep."

She nodded, a little reluctant to open up to the Druid, wishing she could have recruited Yennefer's help with this instead. But she supposed Mousesack would not need to know all the dirty little details in order to help her sleep. "Alright. Sleep first, kill later."

"Yes, in that order," he smiled and let her go reluctantly, turned her around in his arms and kissed her forehead. "As for Kain," he added, remembering. "He might leave with Mousesack. If you want to talk to him, better do it before it's morning."

That realization made her sad, too. And it was a purely selfish sadness. "I will."

She slowly led them back to the keep and inside. A few people were still in the main hall, sharing drinks and stories about those who had fallen in the battle. Mousesack was amongst them.

She moved over to him, attempting to be discreet and not disturb Hjalmar's tale of one of his friends. "Mousesack?"

The Druid turned to her and smiled kindly. "What can I do for you, child?"

"May we speak in private?"

Lambert, who was sitting between Mousesack and Keira, looked over with mild curiosity, a teasing smile making his lips curl. "In private? So many secrets now, O'Swallow."

She liked his playfulness. Always had. Even when she had been the butts of his jokes. Only now that she was older, she could hold her own.

Ciri leaned in a little towards him and murmured. "Yes. Womanly ails. You know, my female bits. Want to be of assistance?"

Lambert blanched, looking as though he had just walked in on his little sister naked. Which she supposed was close to what he imagined in his head. He immediately turned away and downed his cup of mead, making her smirk as she led Mousesack away to the kitchens to talk.

"Now, what do you need my help with, child?" the Druid asked when they were alone.

"I was wondering if you could make me something to aid my sleep," she said, feeling oddly vulnerable at the request. "Something that will keep dreams at bay and, um, not allow others to invade my mind while I sleep?"

Mousesack frowned, contemplating. "Yes, of course, I can. It's not too difficult. I'll make some potions and an amulet to keep you protected. I shall leave it with Geralt before I leave."

"Thank you," she said, genuinely grateful. She wrapped her arms around the old man's deceptively frail body and hugged him, something they had not often done.

"You're always welcome, my dear child," he said, hugging her. "You know that. I'll always help any way I can."

Ciri flashed the Druid a smile as they parted and made for the stairs, slowly climbing them to the floor where her room lay. Inside, she removed her sword and begun to do the same with her armor. At least the more restrictive pieces that weren't all that comfortable over a long period of time.

She located some rags and took a seat on her bed, cleaning blood off her sword and clothing, the activity as soothing as her training session outside had been.

After taking care of her armor and weapon, Ciri decided a little self-care might be in order. She ventured up to the room Yennefer had made use of while she was here, filling the wooden tub with warm water she was heating in the fireplace, and once it was sufficiently full, undressed and climbed in.

It was a strange contrast – the warm water and the cold, empty room. Ciri suspected it was always like that when Yennefer took her belongings and left. Geralt must have felt it many times.

She leaned back after having scrubbed her skin and washed her hair thoroughly, being very careful not to fall asleep. Her burned hand helped with that. It felt even worse in the warm water but that was fine. It kept her from dozing off.

* * *

"We're going back to Novigrad," Roche said. "To fight the next fight. You know where to find us."

"Don't be a stranger," Ves added, slapping Geralt's shoulder.

They left before the night was over.

Hjalmar was drinking in the kitchen with Zoltan, waiting for Mousesack who would send them back to the isles. Zoltan decided to return to Novigrad on his own later.

Keira and Lambert chose to depart in the morning. Keira needed a witcher's help and Lambert wanted to repay her for saving his life.

Kain was nowhere to be found. Probably taking a walk.

Geralt listened to Hjalmar and Zoltan's talk for a bit, then decided to retire for a few hours of sleep.

* * *

Kain strolled around the keep for a while, trying to clear his head and decide what to do next. The night was nice. Peaceful. Even the northern wind had calmed for one night to envelop the keep with quiet.

When he came back, everything was quiet. Some had left, some went to catch some shuteye. Zoltan and Hjalmar were still in the kitchen talking and drinking, and Mousesack was boiling something over the fire.

He noticed Kain and led him out to talk.

"Are you returning with me?" he asked. "You know you're welcome to stay with us in Skellige."

"I suppose I will," Kain said. "This place felt like home, but I don't really belong here. Not on long term."

He nodded. "Very well, then. Go get some sleep. We leave at dawn."

* * *

Ciri wrapped herself in a towel after climbing out of the tub and squeezing excess water out of her hair some time later, slowly padding back in the direction of her room with her clothes over her arm.

Kain was coming up the stairs just as she reached the door, and Ciri paused, watching him a moment. "Are you leaving?"

Kain measured her towel-wrapped figure with his eyes, pondering her question.

"Not right this very moment."

"But you _are_ leaving?" She pushed the door to her room open and tossed her armful of clothes onto the nearest chair before fixing him with her gaze again. "Back to the griffin? Skellige?"

He shrugged and glanced at the old wall with its uneven stones. "Yes, Skellige first, and then - who knows."

Ciri nodded, pursing her lips to try and keep herself from saying anything. But it came out, anyway. "I hate that you're leaving." She swallowed. "I mean, I understand completely. But I still hate it."

He considered her. "Aren't you leaving, too? Back to the life on the run with the Elf? At least it's what you said back there."

"I only said that to piss him off," she admitted. "I have some, um, anger issues. And men who try to tell me what to do, who try to control me, they bring out the worst in me. I'm not running anymore. You said it yourself; it is no life."

He smirked, gave a nod. "I hope you told Geralt that. Your announcement near broke him."

"He should know better than to believe the things I say in anger," she said with a small smile. "When I was little I used to threaten to bite him whenever we argued. I don't think I ever actually did."

"He looked like he believed it this time. Probably because he fears it."

"Perhaps," she nodded. "He knows. We talked. All is good. As good as this horrible situation could be."

"It's all good while you're still alive. Even if it doesn't feel like that at times."

She wasn't so sure about that, but didn't argue. "When do you leave?"

"At dawn, with Mousesack. So he says."

"Is it wise to go off on your own? With Eredin's new interest in you?" She frowned. "You know, you are more than welcome to stay with us. To… be with us."

Kain studied her for a long moment. "When I stayed somewhere, it never ended well."

"For you? Or for everyone else?"

"I would say both. I'm used to being alone. I don't really know how to be around people, anymore. I told you before, I'm out of habit."

She nodded. "I know. I won't try to force you. I just want you to know you are welcomed here. And appreciated."

"If Eredin really wants to get us both, it might be better to be apart. When you have two precious stones that might be stolen, you don't keep them in the same box. Or so they say."

"And yet the precious stone without protection will probably be the first one stolen," she pointed out, going with his metaphor.

He chuckled. "I've managed to stay hidden for all my life. Without much protection above what I had on my own. What should change now? You're his main target. You're the one in need of protection. I'm a nameless no-one to him."

"You've never been hunted by him before. That's the change," she said, brow creased in concern. "And even with the protection of a master elven sage, he always manages to find me in the end."

"Your powers make him find you, do they not? You're jumping between worlds. And he's somehow able to track it. I do no such thing. I usually don't even have to use magic much. What I did here... I have done just once before."

"Don't underestimate him, Kain. He has resources and allies we don't even know of yet. If he wants you, he will find you."

Kain sighed. "If he does, there's not much anyone can do. If he finds me, it's best that you're not around to get in the same trap. Then you still have a chance."

She looked to her feet, silently frustrated because as much as he tried to make her understand her own importance, he did not seem to recognize his own. "Or he might not need me at all any longer. Who knows?"

He shrugged. "All the better, then. You've had enough of nightmares for one life. You deserve to be free from it. You all do."

Ciri breathed a laugh. "This has nothing to do with what people deserve. It's about what happens should Eredin get what he wants. Our world, this world we are in right now, will be overrun by The Hunt. They will slaughter most of the population and keep the rest as slaves. Just like they did in Tir ná Lia.

"That is why I am fighting so hard to keep him from getting me. Not because I simply fear what will happen to me when he does."

He peered at her calmly. "I understand why you fight him. But I'm not you. He gets near nothing if he finds me. I can't give him this world. All he can do to me is kill me."

"No!" she argued. "He gets more! He gets…" She didn't know what, exactly.

She closed the space between them and put her hands on the sides of his neck. "You don't see how special you are, do you?" she asked, in awe of his lack of ability to do so. It was so obvious to her. Even if she couldn't describe it in words.

A shiver ran through his nerves at her sudden touch. Her eyes gleamed, searching his so intensely he was lost for words.

"I... don't know what you mean. You probably don't, either."

"What you did out there," she gestured in the direction of the courtyard. "The way you fight. The way you are able to use your magic. You think that is normal? It's not. It's rare. You are… rare. You make me feel. You make me feel… something."

He felt an electric thrill stroke through his spine. He didn't know whether it shocked or plain scared him.

He drew in an urgent breath and took her face in his hands as if to make her focus.

"You've been through a lot, Ciri. Much more than any other human can take. You're grieving, you're scared and a bit discouraged. Tired of your constant run and danger. What you feel is just yearning for security you haven't known for a long time."

She frowned, a tad annoyed. "Don't tell me what I feel. I know that better than anyone, for they are in fact my feelings. I'm not yearning for security. I'm yearning for _you_. Your presence, your company. Whatever that may mean or bring."

He swallowed, uncertain of what he could possibly say to that.

"You want me to stay?" he murmured.

Maybe she needed more time to see this weird fixation for what it was - her mind's attempt to replace fear and grief with something good.

"Of course I do. I don't fight this hard for just anyone." Especially when it was humiliating and at times seemed highly futile.

"All right," he surrendered, letting her go. "My departure can wait a bit longer."

It was as though she could suddenly breathe again. Tension visibly drained from her shoulders. "Thank you."

He nodded. "One condition: you try to get some sleep."

She pressed her lips together in a slight smile. "I was headed that way right now. Goodnight, Kain."

He nodded again. "Wise decision. I'll have to warn Mousesack."

"Good. See you in the morning." She doubted Mousesack would be finished with the concoctions and amulets by now, so she headed on through to her room, disrobing and climbing in under the covers.

It took a long time before she finally drifted off to sleep and when she did, it was not all that pleasant. There were no invasions but the dreams were foul and heartbreaking, showing her Vesemir's death on repeat.

* * *

Kain got up at dawn to see Mousesack off.

"It's unwise to stay here," the Druid told him, shaking his head with a concerned scowl. "It's best for you to return with me. And your beast needs supervision."

"He knows how to avoid people by now. He can take care of himself."

"I do not approve of this whim, my boy. Nor would your mother. She wanted to keep you safe."

"It's just some extra few days. It will be fine."

"We shall hope," he sighed.

The Druid left some potions for Geralt, instructed him, then took Hjalmar back to Skellige.

Kain went to catch a few hares, then came to the lake to take a quick swim.

Griffin landed behind him when he was hastily dressing, teeth clattering.

The beast croaked excitedly and pounced around Kain, then bumped his head into the Cat's chest, nudging the human to hug and stroke him. It was a bit surreal that he had eventually decided to follow Kain all the way to this distant place from Skellige, but now it felt more like home.

Kain lay on a grassy hill under the sun that was pleasantly warm, while Griffin hunted. When the beast ate, he accompanied Kain to the keep. Lambert and Keira were gone earlier, and Kain could only worry about Eskel and Zoltan. And maybe Geralt, too. If they were against a griffin, Kain would just depart with him for Skellige. Now that he had the means to travel.

* * *

Someone had baked bread and collected eggs from the nests in the forest, something Ciri immediately took advantage of. She tentatively boiled the eggs (the only thing she knew how to do with one) and sliced the bread with a nearby knife. The keep seemed oddly quiet. Eerily so. Which made sense considering its keeper had–...

_No, don't think about that._

She settled down atop a crate in the kitchen to eat her meal, assuming everyone else had already fed themselves considering the hour.

* * *

"Dear gods and little fishes," Zoltan exclaimed, eyeballing the griffin. "One thing to hear 'bout it, but seeing's another."

Geralt was silent and frowning. Griffin stared back at them but didn't feel shy and proceeded past the stables looking around with curiosity. He croaked, wings spreading, and flew up onto the side wall where he settled down like a cat on a tree branch observing everything from up high.

"He won't attack unless you do," Kain said, and passed the three dead hares fastened with a rope to Zoltan.

The dwarf whistled, laughing. "Now, _that_ I can make somethin really good with." He went up the stairs for the keep. "Gonna skin 'em."

Eskel and Geralt were still eyeballing the griffin; they exchanged glances, and Eskel said: "I wouldn't believe unless I saw. Life's full of wonders."

Griffin was cleaning his feathers and claws, unperturbed.

Zoltan came into the kitchen just as Ciri was tidying up after herself; the dwarf was carrying a set of dead rabbits on one hand.

"Kain got you those?" she asked, wiping her hands on her thighs.

"Aye, him and his griffin just came wanderin' in from the woods."

She smiled and hurried outside, following the line of Geralt and Eskel's gazes once they came into view. The griffin was camped out atop one of the walls, looking quite at home. She shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand to get a better look at him, then joined the three men down below. Kain was taking a detour along the other wall, heading for the stairs to get to the kitchen after stopping by to wash his hands at a rainwater barrel. The two witchers remaining in the yard looked torn between leaving the thing alone and reaching for their swords, just in case.

"Beautiful, isn't he?"

Geralt answered with a hem, unsure what kind of description he would have chosen. It was hard to kill the habit of viewing such creatures as possible enemies.

"It is... mighty," Eskel tried. "If he really won't do anything funny... Which is impossible to predict. I've never been so close to one without the intention of killing it."

"I'd put that intention away if I were you," she told Eskel with a slight smile. "He's special. Like his friend." Owner seemed the wrong word to use. "I slept next to him two nights in a row."

Eskel and Geralt stared at her with almost identical expressions - that of a concerned father.

"Next to his friend?" Eskel asked, perking an eyebrow up.

Ciri stared back, not quite understanding the way they were now looking at her. "I meant the griffin."

"It let you sleep next to it? And what if it decided to crack your head like a nut with its beak while you slept? It knows Kain. But not anyone else. It's an unpredictable wild creature, Ciri."

She shrugged. "Then I would have been at peace."

That statement surprised even herself and she regretted it the moment she said it. She flashed them both an apologetic look. "Kain would never have let me sleep there if he thought that was a possibility. And I trust Kain."

"Ciri…" Eskel murmured reprimandingly; Geralt merely set his jaw to not say anything. She had the right to be angry and tired. There was nothing he could do about that mood at the moment.

"That is another mystery," he said, folding his arms. "You see him for the second time and trust him for no reason. Just because you're so desperate to be with someone your age?"

"We don't even know that for sure," Eskel added delicately. "If he was here fifty-five years ago, he's the same as Geralt, plus-minus a year or two."

"It wasn't the second – it was the fourth," Ciri corrected. "That griffin helped me when I was in trouble. And so did Kain." She turned to Eskel, her turn to be sporting the reprimanding expression now. "Could you try not to jinx my new friendship? I love spending time with you both, but you're very, very old. It'd be nice to know someone who could see things from my perspective."

Eskel couldn't help a laugh. "From what I've gathered, he's as old school as we all are."

Geralt smirked, amused, nodding at Eskel's opinion and watching her. "We've all been trained and brought up by the same principles and even the same people, if we count our joined trainings."

Ciri groaned and threw her hands in the air, feigning dramatics. "Dash my dreams, why don't you?"

Geralt laughed quietly, trying to restrain it.

Eskel raised his hands up in mock defeat. "You know me, Ciri, I say what I think. It's just what it is."

"He might be pushing seventies like me," Geralt added some fuel, then spread his arms. "But sure, it's flattering to me that you consider us old witchers your peers. The best compliment we could ever get."

"Well, he looks young compared to you lot," she smirked, adding some fuel of her own. "And he has already learned there's no telling me what to do, so… he no longer tries."

Geralt exchanged looks with Eskel, and the latter peered at her with an ironic sneer.

"Such a wise approach requires decades of gathering wisdom. Even Geralt hasn't reached that stage, so hey, maybe your friend is even older than that."

Ciri squinted mischievously. "Or maybe he simply learns from his experiences?"

The men exchanged another look as if considering it for a moment, then shook their heads.

"Impossible. It's the wisdom of ages."

"Agree to disagree," she grinned, though still fairly confident she was in the right. Kain had an old soul – but that was entirely different.

"There might have a way to find it out."

They turned to see Avallac'h approaching. He barely spared the griffin a glance.

"I assume you still know where that dream-seer lives - the one you went to see in Novigrad. She might help find out how old the boy really is and what he can do."

Ciri frowned, looking between Avallac'h and Geralt. "What dream-seer?"

"When I was looking for you, I found a woman in Novigrad - Corinne Tilly, an oneiromancer," Geralt explained. "She made me see a dream, like a vision, that was supposed to give me a clue."

"She can also make one see the memory one might have forgotten," Avallac'h said. "I have an idea of my own that requires her assistance. It's possible to resolve the boy's riddle, as well."

"You'll have to ask Kain about that. For all we know, he might not want to know," Ciri said, wondering why Avallac'h had taken such a sudden interest in Kain. Was it because Eredin had?

Avallac'h peered at her listlessly. "If one cannot understand something about themselves, that mystery doesn't let one live until one finds the truth. I believe he will want to know."

Ciri shrugged. "As I said, it's his decision. He just went inside if you want to talk to him."

She doubted that. He rarely wanted to talk to anyone.

"That is unnecessary at the moment, Zireael," he responded and peered at her expectantly. "Are you ready for your training? We better lose no more time."

She inhaled and nodded reluctantly. "Mhmm. Just tell me where you want me."

"Outside will be fine. Less chance of damage then," he said casually and began to walk towards the area where she had done most of her training as a child. She followed, casting a glance at Eskel and Geralt over her shoulder, before turning and picking up her pace.

* * *

"Begin."

Avallac'h's tone was calm but brooked no argument and she instinctively obeyed, closing her eyes where she stood and inhaled. Exhaled. This was how most of their sessions started. Or rather, what most of their sessions contained, period. Meditation and visualization. It was a long time since they'd had the privilege to train using her actual powers. She supposed today would be different. Half an hour passed this way, with her honing her mind and emotions, sensing Avallac'h as he circled her, feeling his eyes on her like a hawk's. If her mind wandered, he would know. If she embraced negative thoughts, he would know. He seemed to be able to tell just by looking at her. That had been unnerving in the beginning but she didn't mind so much now.

"Let us see if you remember what I taught you in the World of Metal," he said once he'd deemed her efforts sufficient.

He pointed towards a collection of bricks on the ground near one of the keep walls that had started to crumble. Then he turned to her, arms behind his back and shot her an expectant look. She wet her lips with her tongue and set her sights on those bricks.

In the World of Metal, as he'd called it, the place where they had stayed for close to six months before Eredin finally caught up, Avallac'h had attempted to teach her how to use her powers to move various objects. They had started with a feather and then progressed to heavier and more complicated items, like boulders and, well, people. The latter had only been successful once and seemed to her to have mostly occurred from some deep-seated instinct of self-preservation when they'd been attacked by bandits. But Avallac'h had still counted it. Now, she supposed they had moved back to the basics.

Ciri called for her power, like she did whenever she travelled. She could feel her whole body ache to jump, like it had become a necessity for wellbeing. Perhaps that was why this was so hard? She struggled to focus her energy into a different direction. But she tried, nonetheless. She brought her hand up to help her with the visualization and cast her magic out like a net over the pile of bricks.

At least, that is what she had intended.

Instead, part of the keep wall exploded, dust and gravel raining down on them both. She winced and looked to Avallac'h who patiently picked pieces of debris out of his long hair. He fixed her with a deadpan expression and commanded: "Again. Better this time."

* * *

When Kain emerged from the kitchen, leaving Zoltan to his cooking, Ciri and Avallac'h were training in the inner yard (under Griffin's curious scrutiny) while Geralt sat across from them at another wall polishing his swords and keeping an eye on them. As if trying to decide which one he trusted more - the Elf or the griffin on the wall.

He stood up when he saw Kain, and beckoned.

"A few horses haven't returned from the battle night," he said. "Wanna help me find them?"

"All right."

He put the sword down and led the way, casting another gander Ciri's way.

* * *

"Better," Avallac'h said half an hour later, in a tone that was very similar to the one he always used to chide her with.

She didn't think he was able to show the difference at times. The collection of bricks had risen into the air, enveloped in a faint green glow. She had her arms outstretched, her face a mask of concentration. One little stone was easy. Several large ones at the same time… harder.

"You are improving," the Elf said.

She tried to snort but it appeared more like a flinch of her face. "Yes. Soon I will be able to levitate Eredin into the air. You know, if he stands still for twenty minutes first."

Avallac'h ignored her sarcasm. "It is a start, Zireael. And when you apply yourself, you learn quickly. That is good. You have potential. You may be ready when it is time to face The White Frost."

She cast a glance at where she had seen Geralt sit earlier. He was no longer there. "I still don't understand how I am supposed to save everyone. These powers," she said, straining. "They don't save. They destroy."

She clapped her hands together in a sudden motion and the bricks exploded to dust. Her eyes widened slightly. She wasn't sure if she had intended to do that.

"What makes you think such a thing?" Avallac'h asked, unperturbed by the small explosion.

She shrugged, brushing her hair back from her face. "Experience. Other than travelling from world to world, what good have I done for other people? I almost killed you all two days ago. I used to predict deaths, give details people really did not want to hear about themselves. When I was a prisoner before I met you, there was this girl. One of my captors, in a sense. She was a mindreader. And one day she tried to gain access to my thoughts. I could feel her nudging at my mind. So I pushed her out like Yennefer taught me. And the girl, she started to bleed. From her eyes and her nose. And then the guards began to bleed as well, as though it was contagious."

"And did you free yourself?" Avallac'h asked, though she guessed he already knew the answer.

"Yes."

He nodded. "Self-defense. That is not an evil thing, Zireael."

She shrugged, still not certain about that. He watched her, then pointed to the nearest wall, permitting her to lean against it to recover some.

"Ihuarraquax," he said.

Ciri stared. "How do you kn–" She shook her head. It didn't matter. Avallac'h always knew. "What about him?"

"You were thrown into the Korath desert, where nothing that has not been created for heat and drought survives. You were a child. And you found a young unicorn named Ihuarraquax. You, unable to know his true name at the time, called him Little Horse. He had been poisoned by a Sand Monster and you healed him using the Force. Even though your raven-haired sorceress had strictly forbidden it. Because it nearly killed you. But you chose that creature's life over your own. You healed him with your gifts. Was that not an act of kindness? Were your powers not used for good?"

She considered that a second. "Do you think I can learn to heal others? Without, um, dying in the process?"

Avallac'h flashed a rare smile, but he seemed frustrated. As if she still had missed an important lesson he kept trying to impart on her. "Zireael, you are The Elder Blood. You can do whatever you set your mind to."

* * *

"How long have you lived in Brokilon?" Geralt asked. They were riding side by side with three recovered horses; one trotted behind them. They were relieved to be going home, they had merely been afraid to come on their own.

"About five years, in all."

"You liked it there?"

Kain considered him. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Five years is a long time. Especially given the constant war they live in."

"I couldn't change how they lived. I merely needed a place to hide. Everything else… came as a price."

"You fought their war for five years. And witchers are taught to be neutral."

"I wasn't a witcher, anymore. And I never killed those who didn't come to the forest to kill. I couldn't stop the dryads or change their minds. But I could pick my shots. So I did."

Geralt studied him for a moment, his fingers playing with the horse's mane. "You got close with any of them?"

Kain squinted subtly, uncomfortable. "They accepted me, tolerated me, but that's about it."

He didn't say a word, but his eyes were still on the Cat, expectantly. Kain looked a question to him.

"You called a name when unconscious," he said. "I don't think Ciri heard. I did."

"Well," Kain sighed, conceding. "She's been good to me, as well as her mother."

"You love her?"

Kain studied the mane of his mount. "I… grew attached. She was the only one who made it feel more like a home environment." He paused, glancing around at the scenery meditatively. "She told me once she knew a witcher before me. The White Wolf."

"She wanted children," Geralt said. "I couldn't give her what she wanted. All I could give was explain the benefits of physical connection for pure pleasure as purpose."

"She told me that, too."

"And she still wanted children." He regarded Kain; Kain saw from the corner of his eye.

"They all do."

They rode in silence for a bit, stopped at the river to let the horses drink.

"Why did you leave Brokilon?" he asked.

Kain didn't want to remember, but hoped he wouldn't pry. "It stopped being what it was for me. I couldn't stay there any longer."

"Why?"

"That battle happened; we were attacked by a human army and had to defend the border. Morénn died protecting her home."

A shadow passed across his features, some kind of a melancholic sadness and knowing. "I see."

He asked no more questions all the rest of the way back. Kain was grateful for it.


	15. Chapter 15

They trained for what felt like forever. Ciri liked it, she liked using her powers, challenging herself. But it was also draining. It did not come as effortlessly as her jumping through worlds.

After they had spent a good thirty minutes of Avallac'h hurling objects her way with his own magic, with her having to deflect or destroy them without actually touching them, he let her take a break.

"Go drink some water. Eat. We will meet here again in a few hours."

He strode back to the castle, as elegantly and easily as though he had just been out enjoying fresh air.

Ciri didn't feel quite ready to go inside yet and leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes and let the sun warm her skin.

Griffin's croak greeted the two witchers when they rode into the outer yard and dismounted at the stables rack. Geralt stayed to groom the horses while Kain went further toward the inner yard on his way to the kitchen.

Ciri was standing in the inner courtyard looking tired.

"You look like you need to sit down," he said, climbing the stairs.

She opened her eyes when she heard Kain approach, watching him with a slight smile. "I will. In a bit. You got some time later?"

"I'm not exactly busy with anything around here," he said, spreading his arms. "I'm just a guest. You need my help with something?"

She removed the glove on her right hand and held up her burned palm for him to see. "Will you teach me how to heal myself?"

The burn looked nasty. "I never tried to teach anyone before, but I'll think of how to explain. If you fail, I'll heal you. You want to rest or do it now?"

"Ready when you are," she said. Ciri was a little tired but if she wanted Kain's help, she'd have to do it before Avallac'h demanded her attention again. "Would you like to go somewhere pretty?"

She turned to look at the mountains behind the castle before wriggling her still gloved hand in an inviting gesture. "It will only take a second."

Kain peered at her with doubt. "Think it's wise to use your 'jumping' power? There are horses out there."

"The Hunt already knows where to find me at the moment. And it is less tiring than riding. Or walking." She smiled, eyeing him with a slight impish expression. "You don't trust me to get you there safely?"

"It's not about trust. It's just a bit strange. And a bit disorienting."

Ciri arched a brow playfully. "Are you saying my magic is strange and disorientating?"

He gave her an impish squint. "It is - to anyone but you."

He held out his hand, nonetheless, for her to take.

"Fine. Go ahead, show it off."

Ciri grinned and took his hand in hers, not giving him any warning before they were gone. They arrived atop the mountain where the trees swayed gently in the wind, and despite the general cold of the season, the ground had warmed from the sun. Much better than Skellige.

She let him go and watched him. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"

He drew a deep breath, eyeing the sights around, then shrugged. "It's not bad - just strange."

He picked a sunny spot and settled, legs crossed.

"You ever healed anyone?"

"Once. Years and years ago," she said, following him and settling down opposite him.

"Good. How did you do it?"

Ciri frowned subtly, trying to remember. "Instinct more than anything, I suppose. There was a fire and I drew energy from it, I spoke in the Elder Speech, and my hand began to glow. I suppose my intention mattered more than my words. But it worked."

She did not tell him of the details. Of how the magic had made her feel, of the mingled pain and pleasure that had made her whole body vibrate. Nor did she want to tell him of what came after. Not the full, whole truth.

"What did you say in Elder Speech? And what did you feel during and after? All of that is important to gauge your abilities and how it works."

Ciri closed her eyes to try and remember. "Hail Fire! I wish you to be healed! That is my wish! Aid me, Fire!" She shrugged. "Primitive, I am sure. But I was young and had just started my magical training."

She fell silent, considering his next questions. They brought a pink flush to her cheeks.

"I felt powerful. Invincible. Aroused. And then… a little frightened."

Kain pondered this. "Fire doesn't usually heal - it's more of a destructive power. Water, however, is more suitable for such tasks. Your body - like everybody else's - has a lot of water in it. Seawater is earth's blood while yours is also salty.

"But you can also heal with your energy - and then it might drain you, depending on how bad the wound is.

"The best way is to call upon the forces you don't see but know are all around like air is, and use their aid to mend someone else. It takes practice. And some good feeling.

"See, the highest feeling is love. That's why people say that true love can break any curse. Same with healing: you need to find a bit of love inside you for the one you heal. Not the romantic kind - try to connect to divine love used to bring that someone to life in this world. Understand?"

"I think so." Whether or not Ciri would be able to pull it off was another question entirely. "So, if I want to heal this wound," she said, peeling off her glove again. "I should call on the aid of the element of air? Do you use words?"

"You can try whatever you want," Kain reasoned, casting an assessing gander on it. "But there is one more thing: if you can't really muster love - try a good feeling, an elating feeling, something akin to quiet euphoria.

"Remember one time you felt anything close to such, no matter the reason because you only need the memory of the feeling itself. And then close your eyes, focus and try to recreate that feeling inside you. Try to feel it as if you have a reason. Try to feel it and imagine your hand unblemished as it has been before the burn.

"It's like a meditation, you need to try until you make it."

"Alright." She closed her eyes at once because she wasn't sure she would be able to conjure memories while looking at his beautiful face.

Close to euphoria… Close to euphoria…

She had felt immensely happy on Skellige as a child. Especially in the company of Hjalmar. She'd been downright giddy when he proposed to her. Could that be the feeling she sought?

Ciri though on it and decided, no. It was a happy memory, certainly. But nothing close to euphoria.

What then? The first day the Witchers had started to train her? When she saw a light in the end of a long, dark tunnel?

Close. But not quite.

_Geralt_. The day he finally came. When he claimed her as his surprise child and took her with him. Ciri could still feel her stomach flutter with excited butterflies. And as she rode on his shoulders, she'd felt so high she thought for a moment she was flying.

That was the memory. That was the feeling. Perfect happiness. And perfect love.

Ciri held onto that feeling, savoring it while directing her attention to her aching hand.

Smooth, unblemished skin. Healthy and whole. No more pain.

She felt her magic stir.

Kain watched her work, watched the colors of magic dance around her when she tapped into something that made them brighter.

Ciri was not sure how long they had been sitting there. But it had to have been a long time. For when she finally felt she had nothing more to give and opened her eyes again, her butt was hurting from the hard ground beneath her.

She looked at her palm, examining it. It had healed. Somewhat. There was still a part of her skin that was pink and shiny. A healing scar. But the pain was gone. She'd take it.

She showed Kain, gaze inquisitive. "A decent start?"

She made the burn fade to a pink scar. It was certainly better than nothing.

Kain smiled. "Not bad. Maybe even better than my first attempt ever."

His smile was everything. It made her legs feel like jelly, even as she was sitting down, and those overexcited butterflies returned once more. She tried to shake herself from her stupor. "Yes. Only I doubt I will have much time to practice until after The Hunt is dealt with. I will have to let others do my healing for me. Or heal the old fashioned way. That's fine, too. What's a few more scars to the collection?"

He took her hand in his and covered her palm with his other, holding on to it for a moment before revealing a healed skin where her scar had been.

"You'll learn fast now that you know how."

She eyed her smooth, healed palm now he had finished working, smiling to herself. "You are amazing."

"I'm not so much doing the healing - I'm more of a conduit for it," he explained. "If you use the same way you tried on your hand, it shouldn't alert the Hunt as your jumping does. So you can use it whenever you need."

"Because it's not really my power?" she asked curiously "More like… borrowing nature's power? Not like in the desert."

"It flows through yours, making a connection, but mostly you make yourself a conduit for other forces."

Ciri nodded, believing she understood. "Alright. Then I shall practice." She hesitated a moment before asking. "What about scars? This method… can it be used to heal wounds that have long since healed, but left scars behind?"

Kain silently took her hand and overturned it palm-up for her to see. "There was a scar, I believe. So what are you asking?" A small sly smile swept over his mouth.

"Yes. But it was new. Fresh. I am asking about scars that are years old."

His touch, even the simple act of holding her hand, made her skin very warm. And she was highly conscious about it.

"Time doesn't matter," he said, releasing her hand. "Any scar is just a trace that doesn't have to be there if you don't want it there. Your body will do what you want it to when you know how to direct the power."

Ciri nodded thoughtfully. "Alright. That is good to know. Thank you."

Kain regarded her with a shrew eye. "Is it about the one on your cheek?"

As always when asked about it, her hand rose to cover the scar across her cheek. She shook her head after a few seconds. "No. It used to look much worse. It was crudely stitched together, you see. But Avallac'h helped heal it some. We were interrupted by The Wild Hunt our last session and just haven't really found the time to continue. But I am thinking maybe I should keep it. As a lesson learned.

"Besides, a lot of men feel repulsed when they look at me now. That could be an advantage."

Pure disbelief reflected on Kain's face. "If you think yourself disfigured in any way - enough to repulse anyone - you're not seeing yourself clearly. You're wrong to think it takes away your beauty."

She stared at him with an expression similar to his own. He had called her _beautiful_. Ciri couldn't remember the last time someone had called her that, if anyone ever had.

She swallowed. "Well, people used to. Be repulsed, I mean. It hurt at first, but lately I've been wondering if it might have been a blessing."

That was a lie. She knew deep, deep down her face had never mattered at all. Not to those who wanted to harm her.

"I don't see anything anyone in their right mind could be repulsed with," Kain said. "But then again, not every single man on earth is in his right mind.

"Look at Geralt. He's got scars on his face, more noticeable than yours, and it doesn't take a seer to notice how both sorceresses are smitten, and the third keeps casting glances when he doesn't see. Nothing repulses them. So why would your story be sadder?"

"Ah," she smiled. "Scars on men are considered alluring. Didn't you know? And on a Witcher, it speaks of his many battles and triumphs. My scars have… other tales.

"Besides, Geralt is kind and warm. Despite what everybody says about him. And he has me. A man who is a good father to his daughter? It will make every pair of knickers in the kingdom drop," she teased.

"Not every woman smitten by him knows about you."

She whispered cunningly, "That part was mostly in jest, kitten."

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet.

"We should get back before your teacher starts looking."

She sighed. "Yes, we should." She got to her feet and held her hand out to him, taking in the calm and the beautiful view for just two more seconds before she transported them back to the keep.

* * *

"Zireael."

It felt his voice had actual weight. Weight of metal.

The Elf strolled toward them, his face flickering between unreadable and stern. "Why do you use your power without my permission? You are putting everyone in danger, especially yourself."

Ciri reluctantly released Kain's hand as Avallac'h came into view, his face pinched and tense. Not an easy thing to read but she knew him well enough now. "Eredin already knows where I am," she pointed out. "If he is coming back there isn't anything we can do to stop him. And me using my powers certainly won't dissuade him."

Avallac'h measured Kain with his cold eyes, then focused on Ciri again.

"We have to train - a lot and restlessly - before you can use your power for fun. It is not a toy. It is a weapon of mass destruction. What if something sets you off and I'm not around?"

Kain stepped away, trusting she should fight her own battles with him so he would deem her a grown person.

"Avallac'h," Ciri said in a deceptively calm tone, for she was trying her best to embrace that feeling. "You told me not two hours ago that my powers can also be used for good. And I have never used it for fun. Kain was teaching me to heal myself." She watched said boy's retreating back, the sight of him leaving making her sad for some reason.

"And you cannot be at my side always. It can never work."

Griffin came down from his perch on the wall to greet Kain before he could get to the stairs, making him stay for their argument.

Avallac'h shot a look his way, brief but sharp. "You had something to heal and you haven't told me? You cannot overwork yourself with healing. Remember what happened before? You want to near die again?"

"I did not know how to do it properly then. I relied on my own power, that weapon of mass destruction as you call it, instead of truly drawing from nature. This was different. Just like meditating."

He could not be mad about the meditating. Avallac'h loved meditating.

Avallac'h cast another quick gander at Kain who was jogging up the stairs heading toward the keep's door.

"I see, Zireael. Meditation is much more exciting when a pretty boy face suggests it.

"Unfortunately, he cannot teach you to survive and control yourself so your power doesn't kill anyone around you. And we shall get back to work."

Ciri rolled her eyes so hard it hurt, inhaling and exhaling to keep from losing her temper with the Elf. "You sound almost jealous, Crevan," she muttered spitefully, but headed towards the training grounds nonetheless, resigning herself to a long, hard afternoon of training.

When the annoying boy emerged from the keep calling Ciri for the hare stew and fried hares with sweet potatoes that Zoltan had summoned from his hidden skills, Avallac'h peered from Kain to Ciri with reprimand.

"Training on a stuffed stomach is a time wasted," he said.

"I will keep that in mind when I plate my food," she said, gesturing for the Elf to follow. "Come eat, Avallac'h. You need to keep your strength up as well."

* * *

Both Triss and Yennefer arrived back to The Spearhead inn, one after the other, a base Yennefer worked from in Novigrad and had been the only place that housed her without issue.

She'd helped the woman who ran the Inn many years back conceive a child, and since then the new mother had repaid the favor by providing Yennefer with lodging as needed.

"I suggest we start with the Lodge itself," Triss said as though they had been on horseback and had just stopped to take in the sights.

"That's the idea. But first, I'd like to find where Philippa is. I can't afford to go over her head and have her think that I'm trying to take over."

"Maybe I should be the one to talk to her first," Triss suggested.

Philippa and Yennefer's history wasn't the best and they'd always clashed, but she was Yennefer's problem, and Yennefer wanted to make sure that Triss didn't add any other secret reassurances.

"I'd rather speak to her myself."

"You don't trust me?" Triss asked, brow arching, looking as though Yennefer had kicked her in the face.

Yen speared her with a bland look and then turned her back on the young sorceress. All Yennefer's items were in her room, shifted around and placed as though she'd been staying there the entire time.

"Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

Triss sucked in a breath as though sucking on something sour, and headed for the door. Yennefer trailed after her.

* * *

Zoltan set a full plate in front of Geralt and added a bowl of stew. The Witcher took a spoon when Ciri walked in, shortly after Kain. A moment later, Avallac'h followed looking displeased.

"Hey, lassy, 'ere ye go," Zoltan put a plate with hare and potatoes on the table next to Geralt, inviting her to sit down.

"Thank you, Zoltan," Ciri smiled, taking a seat beside Geralt and pulling her plate towards her.

Avallac'h was sulking. As much as an Elf could truly sulk. But she tried to ignore it. She had to be allowed to eat!

"Heard anything from Yennefer and Triss?" she asked Geralt, picking up a spoon.

Geralt laughed. "You're too quick. They left just last night. There is probably nothing to let us know about. They might wait with news until we come to Novigrad."

"But you think they are fine? I don't like them being in Novigrad. Not while The Eternal Fire are spreading their filth." She slipped a spoonful of stew into her mouth, almost groaning with delight. Before Avallac'h and Ciri had reunited with Geralt and Yennefer, eating food prepared like this was a rarity. More often than not, the Elf had insisted they nibble on roots and leaves found in the forest.

"They're not as defenseless," Geralt reasoned, gnawing a bone clean. "They know how to play it safe and be careful."

"Doesn't mean I won't worry. I've already seen Yennefer tormented beyond belief one time. I'd rather not have that happen again."

The fork froze on its way to his mouth; he lowered it and looked at her with a questioning scowl. "What is that about now?"

"You know, when Vilgefortz captured her and tormented her so she'd give him my location?" she reminded him, chewing before catching the look on his face. "Oh, of course you don't remember."

Geralt let out an irritated scoff and forked the potatoes again. "I'm beginning to get tired of the things people want me to remember. As if I can pull a lever in my head and bring everything back the way they want."

Ciri watched him, unused to that gruffness. He hadn't displayed much of it while they'd been together these past few days. "I'm sorry. I just forgot…"

"And I didn't just forget," he muttered and busied his mouth with food.

She averted her gaze back to her meal, not sure what had brought this mood on. She exchanged a look with Zoltan who winked and shoveled food into his own gob, as if telling her not to worry about it.

There was barely enough for Kain to understand in their conversation, so he paid no mind and finished his meal first. Zoltan offered mead but he refused politely and removed himself from the kitchen.

He headed out with Griffin who was already waiting at the gate. Kain hopped onto his back and the beast bolted up, both of them eager for a flight.

Ciri declined the mead as well, which was unlike her, but she figured it best not to push Avallac'h too far for one day.

He had barely touched his food, instead spending his time watching the rest of them with a shrewd gaze as if trying to gaze into their souls. His blue eyes followed Kain as he left and then flitted back to Ciri, probably half-expecting her to run after him. She didn't.

She finished her meal, thanked Zoltan, and stood to clear away her plate and utensils.

Geralt finished after Ciri and didn't say no to mead, intending to spend time in Zoltan's company and help him clean.

Avallac'h didn't overdo his stay, either, thanked Zoltan curtly and retreated from the kitchen.

Immediately after finishing, Ciri joined Avallac'h back on the training grounds, and they got started anew. It was more exhausting this time. Probably because her mind was not as sharp as it has been this morning.

But she didn't let up until Avallac'h finally let her go for the day. He told her to take a bath to soothe her aching muscles. Which was strange because they did indeed ache. As if she had just done a day of witcher training all over again.

Ciri headed for Yennefer's room.

* * *

Kain and Griffin landed by the lake, and though Kain didn't get his sword, they managed to get rid of five drowners that dashed to them as soon as they appeared.

Upon burning the bodies, he found another spot slightly on a hill's side, and they settled to wait for the sunset. Griffin shifted close as though worried Kain might abandon him again, and began the ritual of cleaning his feathers and fur.

Kain leaned against him, half-lying, and relaxed, watching the nearing dusk spill its colors over the lake's waters.

* * *

Ciri was tired and yet the bath was not as soothing as she had expected. Nor did she allow herself to drift off, no matter how tempting it was.

Once sufficiently clean, she dried off and got dressed, marching back downstairs again, past Zoltan and Geralt who were still seated around the table, and out into the courtyard.

She continued until she reached the open front gate. There she stood for a while, trying to connect with nature's powers the way Kain had been trying to teach her. Then she closed her eyes, took the stone of her bracelet between two fingers, and gently rubbed.

_Come home, Kelpie. Come back to me_.

* * *

"Have ye been sleepin all right?" Zoltan asked, suckling at one of the hare's bones watching the Witcher intently. "Ye don' seem rested, mate."

"Maybe because I'm not," Geralt admitted, finishing his stew, and reached for the mug of mead Zoltan had filled for him. "Keep having the nightmares again. Ciri, that bastard Eredin… Nothing ever ends well."

"Nothing really ended well in real life," Zoltan said, pulling Geralt's empty dishes away from him to clean the table for salty dried meat dish to accompany the drinks. "I tell ye, we have to attack 'em. They don' await it, and we gotta do somethin' that they won't expect."

"Like it's that easy, Zoltan!" Geralt shook his head and took a gulp of mead. "Without any magic, we're like naked children fighting them. They have the Frost, the armor that's too tough for most our swords, the hounds… and the worst timing ever. And they track Ciri."

"Tis bad, of course, but if she can bait 'em to where we want 'em—"

"I'm not sure you understand, Zoltan: we do not want them anywhere."

"We have to gather forces and attack, Geralt, ye know we have no time to wait for 'em! Come on, ye gotta see the sense in what I'm tryina say."

"I see what you want to achieve, but I don't think it's possible."

"Ye really better be wrong," Zoltan sighed, and drank. "We all saw what that kitten-lad can do – that's a magic aid ye want, is it not?"

"I'm not even sure why he's still here – I don't think he was going to stay. Mousesack expected him to return to Skellige with him."

Zoltan sneered. "Must be the lassy. Pretty lassies got powers over lads, even determined ones."

Geralt waved a dismissive hand, eliciting a frown from the dwarf, and drank. "His background's complicated enough without our lassie. I don't think he's here because of that."

"Why then?"

He shrugged. "They have some sort of friendly ground, but doesn't seem more."

"Aye," Zoltan scoffed a laugh, swallowing a swig of mead. "Ye jus' wait a tad, and ye be served."

"Hope not."

Zoltan merely sneered, drinking.

* * *

Ciri waited. And waited. No sign of Kelpie. It was foolish to have expected her to come right away. She could have been anywhere. But at least now the signal had been sent and she would be able to track Ciri.

She pushed away from the gate, feeling a little defeated, and headed back for the keep. She settled down at the table despite the earlier sour mood and looked to Zoltan with a pleading tiredness.

"I'll take that mead now, please."

"Aye, sure, lassie," he got up and snatched a mug from the counter behind, then poured her a drink and sent it sliding across the table to where she sat. "Why so sour? Yer kitten-lad left ye?"

She caught the mug and blinked. "My what?"

Realization dawned a few seconds later.

"Oh… no. I don't know where he is. I'm just… tired."

That was the best description for it.

She took a deep drink of her mead. "This keep feels empty now."

"Aye, aye," Zoltan nodded, heaved a sigh as he sat back and poured himself more mead. "Sad day, indeed. But what can we do… They wouldn't want us cryin', lassie."

"I'm not crying," she said. "I just… wonder what will happen to this place now."

"It will just sit here abandoned," Geralt muttered. "Eskel said he wasn't going to winter here, anymore. Hardly Lambert is of a different opinion."

Ciri was silent a moment, drinking, deeply saddened by that realization. "Maybe when everything is over, I could…"

But that dream died quickly, as well. It would never happen. Kaer Morhen would be no more.

"There's nothing anyone could do," Eskel said, walking in. He took his swords belt off and joined them at the table. Zoltan served him the stew and the fried hare, placed a full mug of mead next to it. "Sometimes people and places just die. It happens. Way of life." He took a swig, then started on his stew.

"I guess," Ciri agreed, subtly eyeing Geralt, wondering how he was feeling about all of this.

She knew how he felt about Vesemir, of course. That was not the question. But she didn't think he'd spent much time here lately. He'd been looking for her, after all.

But this was his home. _Their_ home. The only one they'd truly had. Was his heart aching as much as hers?

Zoltan and Gerald gradually descended into politics and Novigrad topics while Eskel ate in silence. When his stew was done, he cast a quick glance at Ciri, pulling the plate with fried hare closer to him.

"Your boy and the griffin are gone," he said quietly, taking the fork.

"He's not _my_ boy," she said, cheeks flushing pink. "And I know. He doesn't like being cooped up. He needs to be outside."

Eskel sneered wryly, "None of us brought him, so he's yours, little lady."

"Technically, Yennefer brought him," she pointed out and lowered her voice, pressing her head so close to Eskel's their noses were almost touching. She hissed, "And don't put those ideas in Geralt's head. He's sour enough as is right now."

He chortled. "Oh, trust me, there's nothing I can put in his head that hasn't gotten there before me."

"Well, whatever he is thinking — or you for that matter — it's wrong," she grumbled under her breath.

Eskel smiled and said nothing, biting off a hare's leg.

Ciri eyed him, struggling to keep her curiosity at bay. "What are you thinking?"

Eskel shrugged subtly, his smile in place when he set the mug down.

Her curiosity quickly turned to concern. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at Geralt and Zoltan before turning back to Eskel again. "You all think I am fucking him?"

Zoltan and Geralt's heads snapped to her, their argument dying at once as if cut with scissors. Both were gaping.

"Excuse me?" Geralt ventured, frowning.

_Damn that witcher-hearing._

Ciri sighed and turned to look at Geralt. "What?"

The Witcher peered at her, still flabbergasted. "What was that about?"

Ciri straightened up a little despite the awkwardness spreading through the room. "I am having a conversation with Eskel," she said. "A private conversation."

Eskel looked as though he wished he could be anywhere but here, and hid his face in his mug of mead.

_Coward_.

Geralt raised an eyebrow: "You want us to leave?"

"No," she frowned, feeling even more awkward and out of place. She didn't like the way they were all looking at her, even if she had partially brought it on herself. "I need some air."

She stood and headed for the front door with a hurried stride, cheeks still burning.

Eskel looked after her as she left, then between Geralt and Zoltan, a question in his face.

"No," Geralt said, shaking his head once, and held out his mug to Zoltan for a refill. Which he did. "She needs her space, she can have it."

Eskel pondered, glancing at the door once again, then reluctantly continued to eat.

* * *

The night air was cool and welcoming and Ciri was immediately able to breathe easier.

She climbed onto one of the lower walls of the keep, slowly walking the length of it, gaze set on the darkening treetops in the distance.

She regretted her question. But it was still one she wanted an answer to. Is that what everyone thought she and Kain were doing? Did they think that was why she had a hard time being away from him? Because they were fucking?

They didn't understand at all. Even less than she did, and she was still struggling to unravel the mystery of her feelings.

Eventually, she sat down on the cold stone, leaning her back against the wall and watching the view. It would soon be dark enough she would barely make out the contours of the mountains.

* * *

When the sun was down and the moon hadn't risen yet, Kain and Griffin flew around the lake and higher up the mountains until they found a small, clean cave.

Kain missed his cloak he had left back on Skellige, but it was fine. With Griffin, he was going to be fine.

He went for a stroll around, gathered everything that could serve as firewood and returned to the cave. Griffin was waiting outside, not wanting to settle down before knowing Kain wasn't going away. He lit the campfire, and they settled down for the night.

It felt like habitual home and a nice change from the tension of the keep. People there needed to work through their problems, and maybe he was getting in the way. None of them were used to having strangers around. No one in their world was – except for the courtesans.

* * *

The mead they all had consumed the night before kept them down until the sun was well up. Zoltan headed to the kitchen, grumbling about being a 'ploughin housewife', to get the bread started, while Eskel and Geralt went out to hunt.

Avallac'h and Ciri were nowhere to be found, neither was Kain.

"Think he took off?" Eskel asked, setting a rabbit trap.

"He could have," Geralt shrugged. "His beast isn't anywhere around, either. Maybe he's had enough of all this and decided he was better off away from here, from his past and… well, from her."

"Why's that?" Eskel threw him a dumbfounded gander over his shoulder. "Think he doesn't like her or something?"

"I don't really know what he likes or doesn't, nor what he feels. He doesn't let anything show, nor talks about it."

"Yeah, just like her."

Geralt grimaced subtly. "That's alarming."

"You jealous of her new interest?"

"What interest you mean, exactly?"

Eskel cleared his throat, getting up, and headed further to set another trap. "I mean, remember when you brought her here and took her to the armory for the first time? Remember how she looked at all those swords and armor? She looks at him like that now – least what I saw."

"Uh-huh, and he doesn't."

Eskel sighed. "I'm no expert on anything but creatures and hunting."

"Nor any witcher's supposed to be."

"True. So maybe that's what it is: she ain't a witcher, but he is one. Not by mutagens, but by upbringing, he is, like I said, old school. He might just prefer to stay away from that sort of business with feelings. I would certainly understand that."

Geralt hemmed and thought of Morénn and Kain's face when Geralt pulled it out of him.

When they returned with three hares, the yards were still empty, but the kitchen was breathing with life while Zoltan baked his famous dwarven garlic bread. He was delighted to see the hares – there was one more recipe he hadn't tried.

"Who knew you had it in you," Geralt teased while they skinned the hares.

"Ah, pal, every dwarf has to be sufficient whatever arse of the world he wouldn't wind up in – jus' like 'ere with ye lousy good-for-nothins." They laughed.

"Ciri?" Geralt asked a bit later.

He threw the Witcher a curt concerned glance. "Nay, might be still sleepin. Is good for 'er."

* * *

Ciri'd hunkered down in Yennefer's room for the night, despite the lack of a bed. But she'd lit the fireplace and slept close to it, like she and Kain had done in the cave, and though Ciri hadn't been entirely comfortable on the floor, she had still gotten some needed sleep.

She woke in the early morning and for a long moment just watched the dying embers in front of her. When that could no longer hold her attention, she rose to her feet and brushed herself off, standing in front of the floor-length looking glass pushed up against the wall so she could tame her hair.

It had been a long time since she'd watched her reflection in anything other than water and seeing as this was much clearer and accurate, she wasn't certain she liked what she saw. It had nothing to do with beauty. She'd never considered herself particularly beautiful (who would, in comparison to Yennefer and Triss?) but she knew she looked… all right. Most of the time it was the hair and the eyes that caught people's attention. Before the scar, that was.

Ciri undressed in front of the mirror, very slowly, revealing inch by inch of bare skin. She had a few scars on her front torso and arms, most acquired in battle by either men or beast. There was one that was particularly prominent, scoring across her hipbone. She felt no shame in having or displaying those scars. None at all.

But when she turned around to examine her back, her chest tightened painfully. All down the expanse of her back were the scars of angry, raised welts. Courtesy of Leo Bonhart. A few had even been left across her buttocks and back of the thighs. They had not been acquired during a fight. That had been pure punishment, or "training" as Bonhart had called it.

Her time spent under Bonhart's violent, sadistic hand had truly been the darkest in her short life. It hadn't even been the pain. She could handle pain better than she thought. It had been the humiliation and despair. She had been utterly helpless and alone. She had gone from Princess to Witcher in training to… nothing at all. Worthless.

She inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach, and hurriedly dressed again, vowing to herself to stay away from looking glasses in the future. They brought nothing good.

Ciri ventured downstairs after a while, testing the atmosphere at the bottom of the stairs before she eventually dared to enter the kitchen.

"Hey, lassie," Zoltan greeted as soon as Ciri appeared. "Mornin! There, have some bread and tea."

Eskel and Geralt watched her, chewing.

"You feel all right?" Geralt asked.

"Lovely," she responded to Zoltan with a smile, moving to grab a plate and cup for herself before settling at the table. "Right as rain," she told Geralt. "Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He took a hearty gulp of Zoltan's tea and cut himself another piece of bread sitting in the middle of the table.

"Just checking," she said, waiting until he was done with the bread before she cut herself a slice, as well.

She didn't know why but things had suddenly become strange between Geralt and her, as if they didn't know how to talk to each other anymore.

She also noticed that the conversation around the table had all but died down once she joined them.

"Lassie," Zoltan said, joining them at the table with his mug of tea. "Has yer elf told ye when he plans on movin' on from 'ere? Novigrad and all?"

Ciri shook her head. "He's not exactly forthcoming with his plans. Much like the sorceresses in that way." She had a bite of her bread, chewing and swallowing before continuing. "But I say we should go sooner rather than later. Yen and Triss might need help at some point."

"I'm sure they will let us know when they need help," Geralt said, washing the bread down with tea. "Avallac'h insisted on training time, so ultimately we are waiting for his signal."

"It won't help," she muttered, pushing her bread around her plate with one finger. "There is nothing he can teach me that will prepare me for the pain of losing a loved one."

Geralt regarded her with a serious expression. "Wasn't he supposed to prepare you to not lose anyone due to how you use your power?"

Ciri flinched, not entirely sure of his meaning. "You think I should have prevented Coen's death? Vesemir's? And Hjalmar's men?"

In an ideal world that would be amazing. But she wasn't sure how she could ever manage something like that. She apparently had unlimited power, but she, Ciri, was not all-powerful. Far from it.

Geralt winced. "No, Ciri, you couldn't. Not this time. It's impossible to save everyone. All I meant was that you have to learn to control your power to not be afraid of the Hunt anymore. Avallac'h keeps telling us how grand that power is, but if so - you could be able to use it to its full potential and protect yourself and those around you. That should be the goal of that training. And what does he want you to do? Move rocks around?"

"Maybe she has to move rocks around first before doing anything big," Eskel said, shrugging. "We never begin our training with silver swords."

"If I stop being afraid of The Hunt, I've become an idiot," Ciri said softly. "I'm not scared of what they will do to me. I'm scared of what they will do to this world. Did you know the world the Aen Elle currently inhabits used to be a world of humans? Then they came and slaughtered most of them, kept the rest in chains. Hundreds and hundreds of years ago. They still keep humans as slaves.

"We're no better, I know that," she admitted. "But genocide of any kind is horrible and should be fought. Knowing I am the key to allow the Aen Elle to wreak chaos like they used to… it's a lot to carry."

She looked to Geralt.

"I want to learn to control my powers, believe me, I do. But I also know that won't be accomplished in just a few days. I have suppressed my magic for so long it no longer feels as natural as it should. With the exception of leaping through worlds which feels… like breathing.

And even Avallac'h knows that deep, deep down."

Geralt thought about it awhile, chewing on his bread.

"It's a bit strange to me - given I have no such powers - but if I would imagine it, jumping between worlds would seem like the most difficult part. If you've mastered it so perfectly, the rest should come easier. And Avallac'h has to know at least to some degree how to teach you to tap into it, since he's a mage himself."

"I am tapping into it," she said. "But there is a big difference from moving objects without touching them and making someone's heart stop beating just because I will it."

"There is a difference, but you can learn it. The question is, who can really teach you that? Can Avallac'h do that or all he can do is whine how you have to train?"

Ciri shrugged, poking at her bread again. "I don't know. We haven't really been awarded enough time to find out. Though he knows more about the Elder Blood and what I should be able to do than anyone. He has studied it for centuries, after all."

"Is he not sharing any knowledge with you? You have the right to know about all this."

"Mm," she hummed in agreement. "Avallac'h doesn't share information with our kind unless it is earned."

Geralt scowled. "What kind of nonsense is this? You are of Elder Blood and he won't tell you what you're supposed to know? I'd say he's useless to you in that case."

"I'll agree with Geralt on this, lassie," Zoltan piped in. "What kind of teacher wouldn't tell a student what to do with what he's teachin'? It smells of treachery and hidden motives."

Tongue-in-cheek, Ciri averted her gaze from them all. They had a point. She couldn't truly know what Avallac'h expected of her after they'd dispersed of the current threat. Other than stopping The White Frost. He had not yet told her what she would have to do in order to succeed in that particular venture, but he had at least been honest enough to tell her there was a strong likelihood she might die trying.

"Perhaps," she said. "But he is the only one who can stop me when… if things go badly. I need him."

"He can't be the only one in the whole world to be able to do that," Geralt reasoned. "Had Yennefer or Mousesack been free at the moment it started, I'm sure either could do it for you."

Ciri shrugged. "I'm not so sure about that."

She wasn't sure about anything, really. Only that the raw, primitive power inside her scared her at times. Memories from the desert and the voice in her head that had coaxed her so alluringly at the time continued to resurface.

She rose from the table and smiled subtly. "Thank you for breakfast. I'm going to go for a walk. If Avallac'h comes calling, tell him… Tell him, I'll be back soon."

"Very well," Geralt nodded. "Though I would prefer you weren't alone."

"Ah, Geralt," Zoltan reprimanded. "Maybe she wanna find 'er kitten-lad. Let the lass be, ye old wolf."

Geralt scowled but didn't say anything, finishing his tea.

Ciri paused, regarding Geralt and his displeased expression. "Come with me?" she offered, hoping he would accept. Though after last night she wasn't sure he would want to.

Geralt pondered, and got up with a curt nod Zoltan's way as a thanks for the breakfast.

He waited for Ciri to lead the way outside, and followed.

* * *

Triss and Yennefer had spent most of the previous night going in search of their respective sources for information on the Lodge. Most had refused to talk in fear of a series of repercussions and things were a lot worse than Yennefer had first speculated.

"Find anything of use?" she asked when Triss entered her room at the Spearhead.

Triss nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking as though she'd been running. She removed her shoes and massaged at her feet tiredly.

"Are you going to tell me?"

Green eyes shot to Yen's face with agitation and then she nodded.

"I needed a minute."

She'd had hours. How much more did she need? Unless she was trying to be aggravatingly suspenseful. Yennefer said nothing while waiting and speared her with an impatient glare.

"From what I've learned Philippa has been captured by Redanians in Loc Muinne. At least she was. She escaped and now it's said she's either dead or missing."

Missing seemed the most likely.

"And?"

"And what? I haven't been able to get a hold of Margarita."

"She gone, too?"

Triss looked down at her hands and Yennefer could tell it was worse than that.

"She's been captured."

Yennefer gestured for her to continue.

"She'd been in hiding since Loc Muinne but the witch hunters were hot on their trail. She and her students were trying to get to Novigrad, to me, after she heard what I was trying to do—had done—for other mages to Kovir," her voice cracked the deeper in she got, and for a time Yennefer thought she might cry. "It's been said most have been burnt at the stake and that she's being saved for last."

That was a lot of information to have found out in one day.

"Do you know where? When?"

"The dungeons. I haven't been able to find out the when… yet. How'd things go with Ida and Francesca?"

Yennefer shook her head.

"No, go—apparently they can't see past their differences to help us."

"I should have talked to them," Triss said, touching on a nerve. Yennefer rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and sat back against her vanity table, legs crossed as she studied Triss.

"You've something on your mind."

Yennefer had already peeked into it to make sure she hadn't been lying.

"I hate when you do that."

"I don't care."

Triss slipped her shoe back on, got to her feet and strode toward Yen with a new sort of determination.

"What about the boy?"

"What boy?"

"The Witcher."

Yennefer frowned, unsure of what she was getting to with her reference and what she thought they could possible do with a witcher. Yennefer knew that the Lodge was interested in them, in their secrets and that there was a time some had tried to infiltrated, but she had never wanted to and had even less desire to do so now. Yennefer gestured for her to continue, to make a bit more sense.

"I don't believe he's just a witcher. On the battlefield, he did some remarkable things. He dispersed of whole groups of The Wild Hunt and hardly broke a sweat."

Yennefer fixed her with a deadpan look to suggest Triss was exaggerating.

"That's what witchers are trained to do, Triss."

"Not like this—you should have seen it."

Yennefer could already sense where she was going with this, and Yen wanted no part of it.

"I don't know what he is capable of and I'm not going to use him as a bargaining chip."

"That's not what I was suggesting," Triss sputtered with a touch of borderline innocent indignation. Yennefer wasn't falling for it, she forgot the black-haired sorceress knew her well.

"Of course it was," Yennefer retorted vehemently. "We hardly know what he is about and he fought for us. He isn't a pawn and nor do we have any right to speak for him."

Also there was his connection to Ciri to take into consideration. Triss didn't appear to even have considered that, fixated—once again—on what she deemed would be the right way.

Yennefer got up and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To get information. Rest while you can."

With that, she stepped out and left Triss to it.

* * *

Ciri didn't speak until they had passed through the last gate and were out of the keep, leisurely strolling down the road. She didn't know where Avallac'h might be lurking.

"Avallac'h did tell me something. Not about my powers, but about The Hunt. One of the generals, Imlerith, the brute who… who strung Vesemir up at the wall, he attends a Sabbath every year. A feast where he can indulge in, um, corporeal pleasures."

Those had been Avallac'h's words.

Geralt frowned, smelling trouble, and looked at her. "What of it?"

"The Sabbath occurs in Velen. It is a tribute to the Crones of Crookback Bog. Have you heard of them?"

He grimaced. "I met them in the flesh while following the trail you left. I don't think I'd want to repeat the pleasure. Nor would they like me, anymore."

She smiled subtly. "Well, I wasn't planning a reunion with them either. But Imlerith will be there at the Sabbath, a week from now. He will be alone. He will be distracted. And he will not be on guard."

She eyed Geralt, assuming he would catch up on what she was hinting at.

The Witcher peered at her, conflicted and preoccupied. "Ciri, it's just a week. You might not be ready to meet him. I can't let you. You're good, but he is a mighty warrior, and he'll kill you, Eredin's orders be damned, if you try to get him there."

"Which is why I am asking you to come with me. Taking out the generals one by one is our best shot. It will weaken Eredin greatly. And this is the right opportunity - the only opportunity - where Imlerith is concerned." She looked up at him. "And we need to avenge Vesemir."

"I don't like it. Even if it makes sense on a larger scale." He pondered for a bit longer as they strolled. "What of Avallac'h? He intends to help? Is that his idea?"

She snorted. "If I suggested this to Avallac'h, he'd send me to the Isle of Mists again. No, he doesn't know. And I would prefer to keep it that way until we've gone." She paused. "I was thinking of asking Kain to come, too."

She was probably right about Avallac'h who never intended to actively fight to help anything like that. He wouldn't approve of Ciri's crusade.

Kain, though... With his Brokilon history, Geralt wasn't sure he'd want to venture into another suicidal war.

"What makes you sure he'd agree?"

"I'm not sure at all. Hence I intend to ask rather than command," she smirked.

"He was going to leave with Mousesack - the druid expected him to. Why did he stay?"

"Because I asked him to," she said simply.

"Why?"

"Other than the fact I enjoy his company?" She sighed. "Eredin wants him. That worries me."

"Eredin wants you - you are his main goal. He wouldn't hunt Kain when he knows where to find you."

"I'm not so sure about that. I've told you, Kain is special. He just doesn't know it yet. Besides, when we leave here Eredin won't know where to find me. So he'll use the people I care about, like he did you and Yennefer. He'll get Kain to draw me out."

"And how would he find Kain? He's not jumping through worlds like you. How can Eredin track him down?"

"There are other ways. He could track his magic. When Yennefer was on the run from The Lodge after being falsely accused of crimes she hadn't committed, they tracked her magical signature. Made life very difficult for her.

"Kain is very capable even without his magic, but… it hurts not being able to use it. Like suddenly no longer being able to make use of one of your legs."

"Think he's already marked Kain's magic? From the battle night?"

Ciri shrugged. "I don't know. But it wouldn't surprise me. I believe they even have a certain grasp on Avallac'h's location at times. And even if you don't like him, you have to admit he is probably one of the most skilled mages we have in our arsenal. He was basically bred for power."

Geralt sighed and gave her a somewhat ironic look. "I don't know about that, Ciri. But I saw Kain overuse his power to save us all before you opened the gate. He nearly passed out after it, but a whole unit of the Hunt was dead and we were alive.

"And then there is Avallac'h who did nothing for us until the very end. If he's bred for power - it's his own selfish goals and solely they that drive him. He only uses magic when it suits him."

"I know that," she admitted. "I know everything he does is for the Aen Elle. For his people. But unlike Eredin, he doesn't seem intent on killing the lot of us to ensure their safety."

"He would let us die without a second thought. He would do nothing to help your allies. At times I'd say it equals helping the killing. How do you call it when someone is being killed and you do nothing but watch?"

"I'm not talking about my allies. I am talking about the whole human race," she said. "As for why he didn't come to our aid after I left him in the keep… I don't know, Geralt. You'd have to ask him."

"I don't have to ask him. I just told you: he doesn't need any of us. He thinks we're a liability because we are what keeps you from being wholly in his power. He might be even hoping that we'd perish."

Ciri shook her head, unwilling to believe that. "No. He would never want that. I know he can be difficult. Cruel even, if one catches him at the wrong moment. But he cares about me. He wouldn't wish that kind of pain on me."

A small sad smile touched Geralt's mouth. "Don't you see? When you have no one else but him to console you, it's easier to manipulate you. You will have no fight in you left - not against him. You'd see him as your only friend left. And that is when he gets the whole power - because you'd hand it to him."

Ciri couldn't look at Geralt. She could recognize a hint of truth in what he said, but it hurt too much to delve into further.

"I'm not going to be alone," she said, determined. "I'm not."

"We'll do all we can to not let it happen. But Avallac'h will do nothing to help you keep any of us alive. And that is your answer. It has been there all along.

"Be careful, Ciri. I'm not trying to belittle anything he's done for you and your safety - all I want for you is to keep a clear mind concerning him. Don't fall for manipulation - see him as he is. Look for the truth. You always have to look for truth."

Whatever truth he was speaking of, Ciri didn't want to see it. The pain of it was too much. She couldn't stand the thought of having let herself become someone's plaything again – in any form.

It made her feel sick. So sick she felt bile rise at the back of her throat. She swallowed, fists clenched at her sides as they walked, as if that would make her stronger.

"I'll be careful," she breathed, barely able to get it out.

"It's all I want," he said, and wrapped an arm gently around her shoulders drawing her closer to him. "All I want for you is to keep your own mind and not let anyone bend your perception to suit their needs and wants."

Ciri leaned into him because he was safe. Geralt had always offered safety. And it allowed her to breathe easier.

She wrapped an arm around his waist as they walked, silent for a long time, simply observing the peaceful nature surrounding them.

When she finally spoke, she had changed the topic. "Do you like Kain?"

Geralt didn't immediately know what to say to this. It was hard to find his footing in how he felt about the boy with so many things the Witcher still didn't know.

"I'm grateful to him for saving you, for saving all of us that night. I did like him back at the School, though I wouldn't say I know much more about him now than I did back then when we barely met face to face.

"I don't know. I won't know until I'm certain he's not intentionally hiding anything from us. The stakes are too high these days when it comes to trust."

"Everybody is hiding something," she said. "Even those we love most, I think."

"What do you mean by that? Anything specific?"

"No." She shrugged as much as his hold on her would allow. "I just don't think anyone is ever going to open up fully about their thoughts or feelings or past experiences. It's a very vulnerable state to be in."

A pang of pain stabbed him in the heart; all the things she hinted on but refused to talk about with him came floating up in his mind like dead frogs bellies-up in a pond.

"Sometimes it's one of the very few ways to heal it - to open up to someone close. Maybe even the only way."

Ciri looked up at him and saw absolute sadness reflected on his face. It worried her. "Is there anything you would like to talk about?" she asked cautiously.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked down under their feet. "All those things you don't want me to know... It's like an ever-widening gap. I know you want to spare me, but it seems to be working in the opposite direction. I couldn't help you then, and can't even help you now because you wouldn't let me. And it's killing me to think you're too ashamed or scared to tell me anything."

That was not what she had been expecting. She had assumed there was something that was bothering him, but hadn't thought herself to be the reason. "Oh," she said, her lips moving soundlessly for a few seconds, unable to find the right words. "I don't know what… I mean, what do you want to know?"

"That's the thing: I don't know. Something is weighing down on you every day of your life now, and I have no idea what had happened to you while I wasn't there to spare you the suffering."

Ciri smiled a little, but it came off as more of a helpless gesture. "Sure, there were certain things that happened while we were apart. But… it feels strange to talk about it. Like I should have left it in the past. And I'm not even certain if what I went through isn't just what every young girl goes through."

"I don't think so, Ciri. From what you did tell me, even partially, I can tell you it's not what every girl has to go through."

He kept silent for a few beats, then had to ask: "Does Avallac'h know? About all you had happen to you?"

"I haven't told him," she said. "But he might know. He knows things others don't… Part of being a Sage, I suppose. He even knows of the things Eredin does to me in my dreams at night."

The thought of her nightmares and Eredin in them sickened him deeply. But there was nothing Geralt could do about it, which was even more of a sick joke. What good was he to Ciri when he couldn't protect her at all, anymore?

"Don't be sad," she pleaded, finding his hand with hers. "I can't stand making you sad."

He drew her closer, as if that instinctive gesture alone could make him feel any better about protecting her.

"It's not you that does, Ciri. It's what life's done to you. What I failed to save you from."

"It was not your fault," she whispered. "It was never your fault. Nor Yennefer's."

She was silent for another moment, hesitant. "I will tell you of the events that still trouble me most. Those that frequently visits my nightmares. But you cannot tell anyone. Promise me, Geralt. Only you."

Geralt peered at her with a grateful and touched smile. "I will be happy to share your trouble. But I shall not expect you to do it right away. It's enough for me to know that someday you will be ready. And no one else will know."

"You would think with all the magic and elves and sorcerers in my life, what hurt me the most would be related to all of that. But it wasn't. It was a normal man. Though I am not quite sure _normal_ is an apt description. He was a monster. In human form. I have already told you a little about the bounty hunter named Bonhart… Leo Bonhart. You remember me mentioning him?"

"I do." Things she had implied about him did rip at the Witcher's heart. He expected it all to get worse when he knew for sure.

"Well, he did not just happen upon me by accident. After the Slaughter of Cintra, when The Black Knight failed to bring me to Emperor Emhyr, a man called Stefan Skellen was appointed to take his place. Skellen gathered a group of people to locate me, but he also hired a bounty hunter, Bonhart, not knowing that Bonhart had already taken a contract on me from someone else."

She paused, the next part filling her with shame and self-loathing.

"Do you remember I told you about a group of youths that called themselves The Rats? And that I spent some time with them?"

"I do," he repeated, almost wincing in anticipation for more pain to follow, the further she was getting into it.

"They were criminals and while I was with them, I became one too. We stole. Or rather, attacked and robbed people. Mostly the rich. It's not something I am particularly proud of.

"During one of these heists, we were attacking the carriage of the Baron of Casadei. His daughter was riding in that carriage and became highly traumatized after the event. I stole a very precious broche right off her chest. And so the baron, her father, also had a contract with Bonhart. He wanted him to bring me to him, so he could torture me.

"The Rats who had been doing these activities for a long time before I joined them, naturally had bounties on their heads as well. And when they heard a famed bounty hunter was nearby looking for them, they decided to take the fight to him.

"I did not go with them, for I had slipped away before they decided to do something so foolish. I had followed one of The Rats' contacts from the Merchant Guild because..." She inhaled, her cheeks a little pink. "I fancied his horse. Kelpie.

"Anyway, once I managed to make my way back, Bonhart had killed almost all of them. He was not even wearing his armor. They had taken him by surprise so he was only in his underclothes. And yet he killed them without problem.

"When I saw, a rage came over me and fueled by my own arrogance, the arrogance that told me I could take him, I attacked. We fought for a while, longer than he had believed possible, but in the end he won.

"He had the villagers tie me to a stake in the square and hold my eyelids open while he sawed The Rats' heads off. So I could watch. He liked inflicting pain."

It hurt to listen to it and realize that it was in the past and nothing could be changed or done differently. It hurt most that Geralt had no chance to change anything.

He tried his best to keep the emotions off his face not to hurt her more. He had to know. Even if there was nothing he could do, anymore, he _had_ to know.

Geralt did not interrupt, so she continued. "Then he collared me and while on a leash, he dragged me into the crowded inn he was currently staying at. There he made me, um, undress… in front of everybody. So he could check me for weapons.

"From there on things just got worse. I was with him for weeks. He had decided not to turn me in. Because the way I fought, like no girl my age should be able to fight, it had intrigued him. And he thought he might get more profit from me if he kept me for himself.

"He continued to ask me who I truly was and where I had learned to fight. I did not tell him. I retreated deep within myself and even the daily beatings and whippings did not loosen my tongue. He did not mind. For he took great pleasure in beating me. And sometimes, at night, he would just sit and stare at me, for hours on end, with those empty, dark eyes…"

She swallowed. The memory still had the power to make her shudder.

"After a while, he took me to see a Swordmaker. Still on a leash and collar, mind you. He wanted to buy me a sword and no ordinary weapon would do. It had to be special. And the price did not matter."

She withdrew from Geralt only so she could unsheathe Swallow and hold it up to the light.

"Forged by gnomes with dark iron, its hilt made from the skin of a flatfish. Have you heard of them?" she asked, with a certain excitement in her voice. "This fish has very small teeth on its skin, so the handle does not slip out of your hand, even when you sweat. And etched on the blade…"

She held it up for Geralt's inspection, so he could see the floral designs and that of lightening striking a tower. And in the tower… a swallow.

"I thought it was a sign," she admitted, swiftly sheathing the weapon again.

While she spoke, Geralt gnashed his teeth so bad it hurt. It took enormous amount of effort to not ball his hands into fists or react anyhow. There was literally no use in any anger now, but he knew it would all come rolling in stormy ways when he was alone.

Just not now. Not now.

He'd seen her blade many times by now, and it was a spectacular work, worthy of all the admiration. But the way she got it made him nauseous.

"However magical the blade can be," he said quietly, "the price seems too high. But having paid the price would be much worse had it gone unrewarded at all."

"I love this sword," she admitted. "It suits me perfectly. Of course, Bonhart did not let me carry it. He knew I would try to kill him if that was the case.

"He had acquired it for me because he was going to make me fight in the Claremont arena. It is a place where one fights to the death for the amusement of the public. And, of course, bets are made.

"He forced me to take fisstech and sent me out into the arena. The men who were scheduled to fight me were warriors, soldiers, and bandits. They entered two or three at a time. I told them I did not want to kill them, that they needed to get back out. But they didn't. None of them listened. And so I killed. And I maimed. Each and every man who tried to touch me. The audiences loved it. And I felt sick to my stomach."

She looked to her feet as they walked. "I tried to kill myself that night. I had the sword at my chest, already piercing skin. All I needed to do was fall forward in one quick motion. But I didn't have the courage. And so, I remained Bonhart's plaything for another few weeks.

"It was then that he finally made me admit who I am. He had sent for a blacksmith and his instruments. They were going to pull my teeth out. I got scared. So I told him."

"I don't blame you," Geralt said. "In your place, I would've spoken, too."

Every word of her story she uttered he stored in the deep box in his mind to review later when he was alone. He couldn't possibly do it now. Not with her.

_Not now._

"Once he knew for certain who I was, he seemed a little panicked. As if understanding people would never stop looking for me and that it would make his life troublesome. So he brought me to Stefan Skellen to see what the man would be willing to pay for me.

"While they met inside, they tied me up in the courtyard where I was guarded at all times. I would not know what they discussed inside had it not been for a girl who worked under Skellen. She was a mindreader, and she overheard everything they said. And she was very curious about me. So when she finally tried to enter my mind, I pushed her out like Yennefer had taught me and caught a good chunk of her thoughts in return.

"Skellen was no longer truly working for the Emperor. He wanted to kill me, for he did not want Emhyr to gain more power by marrying me. But Bonhart was pushing the price up. And… someone else was at the estate. A wizard named Rience. One of Vilgefortz's underlings. Vilgefortz understood Bonhart's character much more than Skellen did and promised if he sold me to the sorcerer, Bonhart would be allowed to watch as Vilgefortz impregnated and tortured me. Bonhart was considering that offer strongly when I escaped.

"See, when the mindreader tried to push into my head, she awakened something inside me. The Force. She began to bleed from every orifice and it soon spread to all the guards and soldiers in the courtyard. I managed to free myself, grabbed my sword, and jumped onto Kelpie's back.

"Bonhart and Skellen tried to stop me, of course." Ciri touched the scar on her cheek. "Skellen's work. He threw an orion that would have stuck in my skull had I not moved just at the right time. Kelpie leapt across a wall no horse should be able to jump and we ran. They chased me for quite some time before I lost them.

"Or rather, I jumped a few days ahead in time. I just did not know it."

Geralt felt tight in the chest; something inside it was aching pretty badly.

"Are they alive? Bonhart and Skellen?"

She shook her head, unsure how much Geralt remembered now that Yennefer had been taken out of the equation. "They are both dead. I killed Bonhart in a swordfight after I returned from the land of the Aen Elle. And Skellen was arrested by the Emperor and hanged as a traitor."

"Lucky for them."

She looked up at him, smiling sadly. "You would have killed them, yes. But you would not have made it unnecessarily painful. You are not cruel, Geralt."

"Perhaps not generally. But in this case, I probably would have been."

She took his hand again, silent as she mulled that over. "I think it's good I killed Bonhart. I needed it. To see him dead, watch the life drain from his eyes. Otherwise, I think I would still be looking over my shoulder at all times."

"Is there anyone else left besides the Hunt and Eredin that makes you look over your shoulder and wonder where they are?"

"Other than my father?" she snorted. "No. After Bonhart, I killed off anyone and everyone who had wronged me. Turns out I have a real vengeful streak."

Geralt chuckled softly despite himself. "Don't we know it."

He stalled their step and turned to her taking her face in his hands.

"You don't have to be afraid of your father or anyone else. You don't have to be alone with any of it, anymore. All right? You won't be alone any longer."

He drew her into his embrace, planting a kiss on her forehead.

She smiled, tears prickling at her eyes. She had managed to get through the Bonhart story easier than anticipated, but it had still taken a lot out of her. The things that had happened were not easy for her to admit out loud. Especially to someone else.

She wondered if Geralt now thought her weak? If he would become overprotective because of it?

She closed her eyes and let him kiss her forehead, subtly inhaling his familiar scent. It had a calming effect. She'd imagined it a lot when alone and scared in the dark, pretending she could smell him on her clothes or bedsheets. To make herself less lonely.

But the real thing was always better.

"I'm not broken," she whispered, needing him to understand that. "Just… chipped."

"I know. But I never want to be apart from you again."

"Nor I from you." They started walking again, slowly. "So, will you come with me to kill Imlerith?"

"I don't think there is a choice on that, is there?"

"You always have a choice. I would never force you into a battle."

"That's not what I meant. I meant I didn't see much choice in the strategic sense. If we leave him be, he'll make Eredin stronger. You're right about that."

She beamed, suddenly carrying a skip in her step. "I know I am. So, shall we ask Kain to join us?"

"I will not - I can not. It's not my fight, and he's not even my friend. You, however, can ask. If your... relationship allows for such favors."

"I will not ask as a favor," she said, setting her gaze on the hill up ahead. They'd been walking very far already. "But he deserves the chance to fight for his life. He is now hunted, too. Even if he doesn't realize it."

"However you choose to do it, it's up to you. Whether he believes in it or not is up to him."

"He's here somewhere." She searched the tree line with her gaze, looking for telltale clues. "Close by. I can feel him."

She turned to Geralt suddenly. "We can't tell anybody. Especially Avallac'h. He will find a way to stop me."

"Avallac'h won't find anything out from me. Nothing to worry about with him or anyone else."

Ciri nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Was it selfish of me? To ask Kain to stay knowing he misses his solitude and freedom?"

He shrugged. "Depends on how much he misses it and why he'd give it up for you."

"Would it have been better to let him go without telling him I fear for his life? Would you have if you were in my boots?"

He looked at her with a ghost of incredulity in his gaze. "He stayed because you were scared for him?"

"I think so. Unless he is secretly scared for himself." She hesitated, the look in his eyes not going amiss. "Why? Is that strange?"

"I don't think he can be easily scared for himself. Nor seek any help if he thought he was hunted. Judging by his experience - at least the parts he shared - he's very good at disappearing for years straight."

"But you think it strange he wanted to soothe my fears?"

Geralt sighed. "I don't know what to think, Ciri. I don't know what you two stand on and what's between you to judge any of his reactions."

"You looked surprised, is all." She came to a halt and turned, peering into the forested area to her right. "This way. He wouldn't have stayed so close to the path."

Geralt followed the direction she pointed to, and after they climbed halfway up the hill, the griffin emerged as if out of nowhere, flying over the trees and their heads – keep-bound. Kain was on his back and a dead deer in his talons.

They followed him with their eyes.

"I guess that wraps our tracking."

"Guess so," she smiled, trailing Griffin with her eyes. "Not bad, though, eh? My tracking skills have improved."

"You said you feel where he is," he remarked and gave her a subtly cunning look. "It's not tracking what you did. Not really in a traditional way of it.

"How come you feel it, though? This can't be… normal. Or do you feel where anyone is?"

She smirked. "I was hoping you'd let that part slide."

They turned and headed back for the path.

"No, it's not normal. It's new. And only with him. Though I can feel you, too, when you are close."

"If it's just him you can suddenly track down anywhere, I don't suppose Avallac'h should know. If Kain's already wanted by Eredin, it would be an overkill to alarm the Sage about him and your bond, as well. He won't let it slide – he will even dig into it to dissect it and find out why and how he can use it."

"He may already know. Apparently, to Avallac'h my private thoughts are no longer private. I can't know if it is a regular occurrence with him, or if it is a skill he utilizes when in a panic."

Geralt raised an eyebrow, "He can panic? I wonder what that looks like…

"But even though Yennefer doesn't get shy to peek into my mind, she's at least on our side. Avallac'h should not be allowed into your head. When you see Yennefer next, I think you should ask her for some trinket to lock him out."

"Panic makes him mean," she said, frowning in thought. "More snarky than usual.

"And maybe I will. A girl should be able to keep some things to herself."

She watched him.

"Yennefer reads your mind and it doesn't anger you?"

"It does! She doesn't care."

Ciri snickered, then sobered. "Does she read my mind?"

He shrugged, trying to restrain a smile. "I wouldn't put it past her. Nor Triss, to be honest. Any sorceress or mage."

"Mages," she scoffed. "Sneaky, shifty lot."

"When you're right, you're right."

They arrived back at the keep an hour later and were instantly met with a furious Elf.

"Zireael, where have you been?" Avallac'h demanded, sweeping towards them like a bird of prey.

"I have been spending some much needed time with my father," Ciri said calmly, shooting a significant glance Geralt's way.

"Is there a problem?" the Witcher added, folding his arms.

"The problem for all of us is how little time Zireael actually spends training," the Sage said, shooting a sharp gander her way.

"I spent most of yesterday doing just that," she argued, reaching out with one hand and, with a little bit of effort, lifted a new collection of bricks and rocks into the air, crushing them to dust when she clenched her fist.

She had to admit it was satisfying.

"See? I am visualizing Eredin's head."

Geralt smirked and squeezed her shoulder. "I'm impressed. Eredin will be, as well."

He walked past Avallac'h, heading for the keep.

Avallac'h said nothing, only pointing one long finger in the direction of the training grounds. Ciri pressed her lips together to keep from showing her amusement, and obediently headed that way.

"What were you talking about?" he demanded once they reached their destination, his blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"You and your witcher – what were you talking about? What have you been telling him?"

She stared at him, torn between incredulity and further annoyance. "I believe that's between me and Geralt."

The Elf closed the distance between them so quickly all she could do was blink. He didn't touch her, but his tall frame towered over hers in a way she recognized. Men did this when they wanted to intimidate. Dominate. She had attempted it herself on several occasions but never quite managed. Most of those who needed intimidation tended to be much taller than her.

"Have you told him about The White Frost?" Avallac'h demanded, peering down at her with icy fury. "Have you told him of our plans after The Hunt?"

She shook her head and placed a palm on his chest, gently but firmly pushing him back to give her space. He didn't move an inch. "No."

He watched her for a long moment, then when he decided she was telling the truth, relaxed slightly, his furious demeanor disappearing. "You know he would stop you," he said calmly. "He would never let you go. He is selfish like that."

She frowned subtly. "I don't think it is selfish to not want someone you love to die."

"It is if the option is the death of one person versus the death of everyone in every world," he pointed out.

Ciri looked to the ground, at her feet. "I haven't told him. And I won't." Even if it was killing her not to. She did not like keeping such things from Geralt. "I know what I must do."

Avallac'h smiled and opened his arms. She did not step into them this time, no matter how tempting it was. She just flashed him a tight smile and gestured to the space in front of them. "Shall we train?"

He noticed the change in her, as imperceptible as it was. And he hesitated, clearly disturbed. But he did not comment. He lowered his arms and nodded. "Yes. Let us begin."


	16. Chapter 16

_~ Hereby we (the three authors of this story) wish to thank all of you who left us reviews, and especially so detailed and wonderful as **RedHood001** and **Nuradone** and **Metal Worm** and **cherrrylipstickkk and others **have written. Thank you very much, each and every one of you who takes time to read and review, it means the world to us to receive your feedback of any kind. We take to heart all recommendations and ideas and are happy to share a story you enjoy to spend your time with. _

_Thank you all so very, very much! Have a nice day, be safe and stay positive with lots of enthralling stories! Bless you ~_

* * *

When Geralt came into the kitchen, he caught the tail of Zoltan's praise to the deer Kain had brought.

The said deer was on the table, its bloodied belly empty - the boy knew how to do it.

"Hey, Geralt, wanna help me skin 'er?" Zoltan held out a knife to him, smiling.

"Sure." He took the knife and stepped toward the carcass. He threw a gander at Kain. "You hungry?"

"No, we've had our breakfast in the woods."

Geralt nodded and began to cut under the deer's skin, slowly peeling it off the meat.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kain walk away.

"Lassie all right?" Zoltan asked.

Geralt nodded again. "She is. Just a bit tired and worried about Eredin."

"Aye... Like we all are. Know when we leavin yet?"

"I've a feeling a week here would be enough."

* * *

Avallac'h had taken it upon himself to teach Ciri something similar to the Witcher signs, mostly focusing on the element of air and fire. Or as she knew them – Igni and Aard.

She already knew she could not make use of Witcher signs. Ciri had attempted it enough as a child to be aware of her failure in that particular area. But using her own magic rather than the way of the Witchers had made a big improvement. It was with a great deal of excitement she watched as flames erupted from her palms, engulfing the shadow-men Avallac'h had summoned as imaginary enemies. It felt warm but did not hurt. Nor did it hurt the shadow-men but that was beside the point.

During the hours they practiced, she had managed to go from producing a few quick bursts of fire to a steady stream of flames, able to sustain it for longer than she ever had before.

Avallac'h was pleased. "Very good, Zireael. We will continue with the element of air after you have had your supper. A light supper," he specified as they made their way towards the keep, Ciri a little out of breath and sweaty, the Elf looking as though he had just had beauty treatments. Ciri paused outside the keep to splash her face with water from one of the barrels. then headed inside.

Meat was cooking in the kitchen. Ciri could smell as much as she entered the keep. Zoltan, Geralt, and Eskel were keeping an eye on it while chatting, making sure it did not burn over the fire. Kain was nowhere to be seen. Had he not returned to the keep after all?

"Have you seen Kain?" she asked the three, much to Avallac'h's annoyance.

"He headed out a few hours ago, lassie," Zoltan responded.

She turned on her heel and went for the door, ignoring Avallac'h's call of her name.

She couldn't see him anywhere inside the keep walls, so she took off running towards the main gate, stopping there to assess that strange magnetic bond that seemed to tether her to him.

He was far away. Somewhere in the mountains again, she supposed. He seemed to like it up in the hights. Like a cat.

She closed her eyes and thought of him. _Take me to Kain._

Ciri disappeared in a flash of green and reappeared somewhere up in the forest-clad mountains a second later. Still, he was nowhere in sight.

This did not discourage her, however. Her power could transport her to the people she sought. But rarely straight to them. It was never as easy as that. But he was close by now. She could feel that.

"Kain?" she called, watching as a flock of birds startled and flew from the treetops.

Griffin pricked his ears looking sharply into the forest before her voice carried to them. Griffin looked to Kain and croaked. As if stating it was the boy's problem to deal with. Kain picked himself up from the forest floor where he had been sitting against a tree, and jogged toward the voice. Griffin trotted after him.

"You're jumping again?" he asked, coming from behind the shrubs, when she came into view.

"Like a bunny," she said, eyeing him curiously as he appeared out of the nearest bush. "Are you alright? Not a fan of the indoor-living still?"

He gave an amused hem, a smile playing over his mouth for a moment. "You expected me to get that habit at once? I haven't lived indoors since the School trainings. Why start now?"

"I didn't," she admitted. "Doesn't mean I won't come check on you to make sure you are alright."

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm not utterly alone here."

"Just assuming someone is alright because you haven't seen anything to hint otherwise is lazy," she said with a small quirk of her lips. "Besides, I meant more on a mental level than physical. Do you regret staying?"

He leaned against the nearest tree, folding his arms. "I don't make any decisions I would regret. Regretting anything you've done is harmful to you. I don't regret anything."

Ciri blinked; clearly they were different there. She regretted so many of decisions. "Right… Are you not coming back for supper?"

"We've had our supper about an hour ago," he said, and waved a hand behind him indicating the griffin that was wandering around sniffing the ground for the rabbit holes. "You should go eat, though. Those trainings will drain you if you don't eat."

"They probably will," she mused.

_But I will be sad if you are not with me._

She didn't say this out loud. It would be inappropriate and she did not want to guilt him into coming back to the keep with her when he clearly preferred to be out here.

"You won't leave for good without telling me, will you?" she asked, brow pinched in visible concern.

Kain studied her with interest, narrowing his eyes a bit as if trying to see the unseen or hidden inscription on her forehead.

"Why do you feel lonely among them? They're like your family."

"I don't feel lonely. There's just… pieces missing. One of those pieces is you. I feel…" She sighed, averting her gaze as she pondered how to put it in words. It was hard. "When you're with me, when I feel you close by, I feel satisfied. Completed."

A faint surprise stroked through his features. "What about Geralt? He's not enough?"

"It's not about enough. The fact I am drawn to you, does not lessen what I feel for Geralt. But the two feelings, though similar in their core, are also different.

"Geralt is not my friend. He will never be my friend. He is my father. My mentor and protector. And he will never see me as his true equal, because he raised me. He knew me as a child. Loved me as a child.

"And you, you are now. Different. In a way I don't quite understand yet, but want to discover." She watched him curiously again. "Does that frighten you?"

Kain contemplated it, watching her with a hint of wonder.

"No, it doesn't. Though I don't get how Geralt can't be your friend along with mentor, father and someone who raised you. I think he deems himself your friend. He'd be disappointed to know you don't view him as yours."

"My friends all die," she said bluntly. "Geralt is not going to die."

A laugh escaped him; he raised an eyebrow, "And you're expecting me to die, then?"

"Are you my friend?" she asked, eyeing him cunningly, for he had never admitted anything of the like before.

"It seemed to me you were implying that."

"It is what I tell people when they ask. And yet I feel the description does not justify how I feel. I do not know how to put that feeling into words in a way that makes sense. Like Geralt, you are more." She crossed her arms over her chest, cheeks flushing a faint pink. "The people back at the keep – Yennefer, Triss, even Eskel – they think I am in love. Or in lust. That is the impression people get when I try to explain."

Kain squinted inquisitively, somewhat entertained. "I wonder what kind of explanation you offered to them. But given how they're missing so much about what you've been through, it's their attempt to color you normal - like they would assume you should feel."

"Is that the way with all women my age? If we take an interest in a man it must be love?" It was a genuine question.

"I'm not an expert - the only women my age that I was spending time with were at the School, and lust was the only thing they felt for men. Or women."

She pondered that a moment before looking at him again. "Have you ever been in love?"

"I don't think so."

"I don't think I have either. We would probably know."

Kain shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. I never thought about it. My goal was to never get attached to anyone, and musing over what the opposite of that felt like never seemed like a good topic for meditation."

"Why was that a goal?" she asked. "A rule of the lone wolf? Erm… cat?"

He paused, pondering. "Something like that. I was going to be a Witcher. Witchers don't have mates or feelings. They exist with a sole purpose and there is nothing else for them to expect from life."

"Geralt is not like that. He has feelings. And a mate. Sometimes." She couldn't keep up with him and Yennefer. "I suppose the old Witchers thought feelings got in the way of the work."

"My School." He sighed. "It had flaws. The elders decided to renew the mutagen formulas at some point. It didn't work the same way on everyone: some became psychotic and some - void of any emotion. They went out into the world and spat on the code, doing whatever they felt like. Some became hired assassins, some created bands.

The Wolf School was never like that. Their emotional responses are not distorted as the Cats'.

"We were taught to kill the feelings and be the perfect weapons for successful kills."

She tilted her head, observing him. "But you weren't given the mutations. You are not a cold, emotionless killer."

He smiled meekly; it was more like a weak reflex that disappeared as quickly. "I'm not. And yet I killed one of my peers for a creature. And I'd do it again. What does it make me? Mutagens or none."

"Someone who is willing to protect the innocent, no matter the consequences. Standing up for those who do not have a voice of their own. That is a virtue, Kain."

He looked down, shook his head once slowly. "He never wronged me in any way. He trusted me. We've finished many contracts together. And then I killed him because I chose another life over his. It will never be right. It's just what it is: one of the two initially wrong choices."

"I can't judge you for what you've done," she said softly. "Nor would I ever. I have killed people too. People who did not necessarily need to die. I'm not even sure they deserved it."

"I guess we're the harshest judges of our own deeds. It's all right. It means we learn from them."

"One can only hope," she whispered, shaking the melancholy before looking up at him again. "Speaking of killing… Geralt and I will be leaving soon. We're going to Velen, to kill Imlerith, one of Eredin's generals. He will be on his own and separated from the rest of The Hunt. If you want to join us, you will be very welcome.

"However, I must ask you not to tell anyone. This is between you, me, and Geralt only."

Kain chuckled. "Who would you expect me to tell? Griffin?"

"You do stop by the keep every now and then, don't you?" She smiled, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, to give the hares or deer to Zoltan. I barely talk to anyone."

"You make it out without engaging in a conversation with Zoltan?" She tilted her head. "You are talented."

"I'm not particularly interesting to him. He's always busy and talks business."

"So… will you come?"

"Who is that Imlerith?"

"He is the one who… had Vesemir by the throat. The one who beat him," she said solemnly.

Kain remembered. He broke the bastard's arm. And it didn't save Vesemir.

He nodded. "Fine. If you want me to come, I will. When is it?"

Ciri felt a thrill of gratitude and excitement at that. "The Sabbath is in a week, so I assume we will leave tomorrow or the day after. It will take some time to travel to Velen on horseback. Might take you less though, if you are flying."

"Even on horseback, it doesn't take a week. About four days, I would think."

She shrugged. "We have one chance to catch Imlerith off guard. I'd rather we get there early, than arrive late and miss him."

"You're noticeable. People noticing you in the area won't help with the element of surprise."

"We're noticeable," she amended, because he stood out as sorely as she did. Geralt, too. "I just don't want to risk him slipping away."

"He wouldn't miss that if he intends to be there. And you won't be late if you give the journey four days."

"I shall see what Geralt has to say." Ciri pointed Kain's way, partially playful. "If this decision makes me late, I will kick your pretty behind."

He smirked. "That's ambitious of you."

"It's good to have goals," she grinned. "So you are not coming back with me for the evening?"

"Why? They're not at ease with me and I'm not at home with them. It's best as it is."

"I was asking for purely selfish reasons," she admitted, moving to gently sweep his hair from his forehead with two fingers before she could catch herself. "And if you're talking about Avallac'h, he is like that with everyone."

"It's not just him. None of them know me, and seasoned warriors like Geralt and Zoltan are always cautious around new people. So am I."

"As am I. Usually." She eyed him. "You won't ever get to know each other if you never meet."

"The question is why should we know each other?"

Ciri held up her hands in casual defense, taking that question as a clear reluctance to indulge her this time. "Alright. I won't push you."

He sighed, feeling a tad uncomfortable. "None of us are looking to make friends, and having fought together one time doesn't always forge friendship or a desire for it.

"Geralt has Zoltan and you. Zoltan has Geralt and you. Your Elf doesn't seem to need anyone at all. So it's all settled as it is."

Ciri smiled a little, because he had certainly thought this through more than he wanted to let on. "You don't feel welcome," she wagered. "To be honest, I feel the same way a lot of the time. It's been many years since I've been with them. And it's… hard to return to that effortless community we once had. I have changed. And they have too, I am certain.

"But Kain, white kitten," this said purely to needle him, "you are welcome. You are wanted. Very much so. I crave your company always. And though you may prefer solitude, we are all fighting the same war now. It is not a bad thing to get to know them. It is not a bad thing to have people you can count on. "

Kain barely restrained the wince at the way she insisted to nickname him. One thing was the dwarf - whose 'kittens' didn't annoy, and then there was Ciri. Something different.

"In my life counting on anyone is a weakness. I was the only one I could ever count on. I don't see it changing. Nor that it should."

"Then I don't know how to convince you otherwise," she said simply, lips still curved in a slight smile.

"You shouldn't bother convincing me of anything, Ciri. You should go join your family for supper because they certainly don't understand why you prefer my company over theirs. They have been with you from the start. I haven't."

"I have to choose one or the other, do I?" she asked, curious to know what he thought of this. "You think because I have people I love, people who care about me, I am not allowed to form relationship with new people?"

"It's not about what I think – it's more about what they think. You said it yourself that they don't understand your relationship with me and you can't explain. Not even to yourself."

"Right." But it was about what he thought. He was the one trying to put space between them, he was the one trying to impress upon her "her people" would not approve. They questioned it, sure. But they had not hinted that she should stay away from him. Not since the battle.

Was it he then that felt uncomfortable in her presence? Had she forced herself onto him without even realizing? That was a horrifying thought.

She nodded. "Yes. I'll go."

She turned and did just that.

Kain heaved a long sigh, leaned his head back against the tree trunk, breathing, "Dammit…"

Griffin came up and nudged him in the shoulder with his beak. Kain reached behind to stroke his neck, feeling uneasy. He couldn't shake it, that stupid awkward feeling of either guilt or longing. He couldn't quite tell. Whenever he found his footing and set his mind straight, she came sweeping in and shuffled his cards.

It was never a good idea for him to get close to anyone. Why should it change now? Why would he suddenly want to have other people to count on? It meant he would stay, and ever since the School Kain had been avoiding the very human urge to belong. He was afraid to want it. He was afraid of how she was trying to instill it in him.

Her ashen hair almost disappeared from sight among the trees as she was walking away.

He detached from the tree and went in the opposite direction with Griffin in tow. Back to his cave and solitude.

The only way of life he ever belonged to.

* * *

Ciri appeared back at the keep within the next few minutes. It had taken her a little time to remember she did not have to walk the entire way back.

It was warm and cozy inside and dinner seemed to be just about ready. She removed her cloak and draped it over a stack of crates nearby, taking a seat at the table near the fire where she could rub some warmth back into her fingers.

Zoltan, Eskel and Geralt exchanged glances when she walked in looking gloomy, but managed to keep their conversation going to not make her feel awkward and exposed.

Geralt felt it in his gut that something had happened she didn't quite like. She wasn't good at hiding her frustrations.

"There ye go, lassie," Zoltan said putting a bowl of steaming stew in front of her. "Dig in, the meat's almost ready. Ye gonna swallow yer tongue, ye just wait." He pushed the bread toward her, then went back to the fire where the meat was cooking. He turned it slowly, making sure all sides were done evenly.

"Thank you, Zoltan," she managed to murmur, though her thoughts were miles away from food. She absentmindedly stirred the stew with her spoon, her gaze on the fire.

Ciri didn't understand. If Kain had no interest in her company, why had he agreed to stay in the first place? Was it guilt from what had happened to Vesemir? Pity?

Was that the same reason he had agreed to come to Velen?

Could she have been so utterly wrong? Had she read him so poorly she'd mistaken pity for something more?

If that was the truth, it hurt. It hurt a whole lot.

There was something seriously troubling her, and a part of Geralt felt like blaming Kain.

What could he have possibly done or said to her that made her lose her appetite and any enthusiasm at all? Did he refuse to come back with her, and she was upset over that? Or was there something more serious? Did he reject her when she tried to get closer?

The Witcher winced subtly, hiding his face behind the mug as he sipped his mead.

"Finally ready!" Zoltan said, laughing joyfully as he and Eskel pulled the meat from the fire. Zoltan began to cut the slices off the fried pieces, and Eskel held the plates. The first filled plate went to Ciri, accompanied by a mug of mead, then it was Geralt's turn, and finally Zoltan's and Eskel's.

"To the kitten-lad's awesome hunting skills," Zoltan said raising his mug when he settled at the table. "This kitchen hasn't smelled so nicely in a long time, I'm sure."

They drank and dug in, forks and knifes clanging.

Ciri gave a tight-lipped smile when Zoltan raised a toast to Kain's honor.

_Right; they didn't like him at all._

She drank deeply from her mug and finally, once the conversation started to pick up around the table, she managed to eat. It was mostly Eskel and Zoltan doing the talking. She could feel Geralt watching her even if he tried to be subtle about it.

"Did Lambert leave with Keira?" she asked suddenly, the thought striking her just then. She could not remember whether someone had told her or not.

"Yes," Geralt said. "She needed a Witcher's help with something, and he agreed because he wanted to thank her for helping us."

"He obviously liked her a little too much," Eskel snickered, chewing on his meat. "Not that I blame him. He needed to lighten up a little. She might teach him some manners. No one else could."

Zoltan laughed. "Aye, right, that'd be the day. Think he calls ye for weddin?"

Eskel chuckled and drank, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Smiling, Geralt shook his head subtly and sent a forkful of meat into his mouth.

"Do we trust her?" Ciri stabbed the venison on her plate with her knife, eating it like that. Yennefer would have walloped her had she been here. "She's part of The Lodge."

Geralt said, "I wouldn't fully trust her, but why do you ask? Think Lambert would sell something out? There's nothing he can tell her she doesn't know."

"Why ye worried, Ciri?" Zoltan asked. "Somethin in particular?"

Ciri shrugged, keeping her eyes on her plate. "Just making sure. Yennefer and Triss aside, I don't trust any of them. Power-hungry bitches."

"None of us do, lassie," Zoltan said.

Geralt regarded Ciri, considering her. "Why you're saying it now? Something happened to make you think of them?"

"No," she said simply, trying to fill that sudden emptiness inside by stuffing her face. She'd already drained her mug of mead. Avallac'h would be furious.

Zoltan refilled Ciri's mug as soon as he noticed she took her last gulp, then did his own. His meat was disappearing as fast as Eskel's, and soon enough they went to cut more pieces. Once done with their plates, they added more to Geralt's and Ciri's.

Ciri remained silent for the rest of the meal and it felt as though her presence was putting a damper on the men's conversation. As though they couldn't truly speak freely while she was here. Or was that her being paranoid?

When everyone had finished eating, she stood and gathered the empty plates, brushing aside Zoltan's attempts at making her sit back down with a smile. "My turn to do the washing up," she said and headed out to the water barrels they made use of for such purposes.

Zoltan peered at Geralt with a question; the Witcher got up, took one of the deep bowls, and followed Ciri outside.

"I haven't done any washing for a while, either," he said when she turned to him, her eyebrows raised. "I'll pour the water and you wash." He brandished the bowl, then dipped it in the water barrel.

She nodded, reaching for the rag she'd draped over her shoulder to rub the plates clean.

She was still silent, not much in a talking mood until another idea struck her. "When are we leaving? Sooner rather than later, yes?"

He considered her with a frown, pouring water over the dish she was washing.

"Ciri, what is eating you? What happened?"

She hated that he could read her so easily. Especially in this case, which would most likely be considered "silly girly whining" to the Witchers who were not used to such. "It hurts when you try to make a connection, only to find that the other person does not want it."

_It's what I thought, then._

He frowned deeper, hurt for her and on her behalf, and yet… it was not enough.

"Why would you think so?"

"He does not want me near. Not since the battle. He urges me to go," she said coldly, setting one plate aside to get to the next. "I don't know what I did. Except… I am not a good person to get involved with. Death follows me. Perhaps he is just being smart."

"Urges you to go?" Confused, Geralt took more water from the barrel and poured onto her other plate. "How exactly did that happen? Maybe you misunderstood something. He's not the most social type, he's used to being alone and in hiding. Habits die very hard. Habits of years die even harder."

"When someone tells you to go, I feel the meaning is very clear," she murmured. "It was stupid. Thinking I could have… something with him. He told me he doesn't like the company of people. Don't know why I thought myself the exception."

"Ciri…" Geralt sighed, seeking the right words as he scooped more water. "Sometimes things people say don't really come out the way they intend it. You're right, he doesn't like the company of people – or, rather, he's used to be cautious to never get close to people. And now he's merely uncomfortable and doesn't really know what to do with it. His instincts tell him to run, but then there's you, and he somehow fights his habits because you asked.

"If it were the way you think now – he wouldn't have stayed because you asked. He'd be gone after the trial. He did stay for you. There's nothing else here for him. Just you."

He didn't like to say that – it was the hardest thing ever to trust anyone around Ciri, be it even Gwyncath. But Geralt couldn't stand her pain over this. He could absolutely not stand any pain in her ever again.

"Or he stayed because he misses his Witcher past," she said, blowing her hair out of her face with a puff of air. "And he knows even if he ran, I'd find him should I want to. I find him even when I don't want to."

"You're being paranoid now," he said, pouring over her hands while she wiped the dish. "It's hardly you that's the reason. He might be thinking of something else entirely that troubles him, and you don't know about it, so you take it personally."

He drew more water and prepared to help her with the final plate.

"I don't think he misses his past at all," he murmured, recalling Kain's face when he made the boy tell him about Brokilon.

"And how do you know his feelings so well?" she asked. "You said you barely knew him before."

Geralt tightened his jaw, conflicted and hating this pickle she put him in.

"We… talked a bit. The other day. I asked about Brokilon, and he wasn't happy to recollect any of it."

Ciri eyed him curiously. "What happened in Brokilon?"

"Neverending war with people for something he had nothing to do with, and no closeness to anyone – dryads have no warmth for any actual relationship with anyone who isn't them. He wasn't. And he had to live in it for six years. After the Witcher School, it reinforced his habit of being closed. When you live like that most your life, you don't really know how to come out of it. I know it. I was lucky to have a few people to call friends. I could've been like him, too, if not for Dandelion and Zoltan and Triss… and you."

Kain had told her about that, in part. Mostly the wars. But she didn't know much about the dryads and their culture. Though she remembered from her one and only meeting with them, that they were not very warm creatures.

"I know such things can't fade overnight. Believe me, I know. But I don't know how to approach him when it feels as though he wants me gone.

"If I had hated him I would have invaded his space simply to make him angry. But I don't want to make him angry. I don't want to hurt him or make him uncomfortable. And so… I do not know what to do at all."

"If you leave him be, he'll be as he is," Geralt reasoned, and considered her for a few seconds. "What do you want, Ciri? Before you know what you want, you won't be able to know what to do."

Ciri shifted my weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. "I… I just want him near."

The ever persisting question Why that she never truly answered to him – not in terms he would have understood – nudged and poked and stabbed him again. Geralt pressed his lips together to not spill it; he knew she wouldn't answer.

She didn't know.

And he was afraid that what he knew was the real deal.

This whole ordeal rang so painfully familiar inside his heart that it almost made him gnash his teeth in frustration and inability to keep her from falling deeper into it. Geralt couldn't put his finger on how this anxiety came to be, but it was there screaming like a spooked siren.

He took a deep breath, rinsing the bowl, then peered at her, making himself smile a little for her sake.

"How do you tame a wild animal that's been hurt by people before? That's what you do."

Ciri contemplated that a moment. "And what if you're a wounded animal, too?" she asked. "Wounded in a different way perhaps, but equally… disturbed."

She sniffled a little, almost imperceptibly as she wiped the dishes.

"After Kaer Morhen, he is one of the very few men I have met who does not look at me with greed, hatred, or lust in his eyes. Sometimes all of them combined. This world and others. He has not harmed me or taken advantage of my vulnerabilities. He has not tried to make profit of my life. I have slept beside him for several nights and never once did I wake to find him atop me, holding me down and removing my clothing. Never once did he think it was his right to touch me. That is so rare I can only remember one other who did not treat me like a piece of property.

"I know that if I were ever to lay with him it would be because I wanted to, not because he took my choices away. A part of me had started to believe something like that would never be possible."

The reasoning she summoned was the closest she had gotten to explaining her feelings thus far. Geralt appreciated that she could find the words, but those words stirred some deep, stinging ache in his soul. His heart went out to her, to how she must have felt for years. It broke his heart to think about it, so he tried to store it next to Bonhart story to not do this in front of her.

He couldn't.

It was a bit eerie, too, how their inner scars coincided. There was something in it that Geralt no longer felt able to push away and try to ignore. Ciri wasn't going to be happy if this stayed snapped broken like it threatened to become now. She failed to understand because she didn't know, and Kain wouldn't share.

He wouldn't do to her what had been done to him one way or another. And however low Geralt was on tolerance for anyone he didn't really know around Ciri, he had to admit to himself here that Gwyncath was the safest one yet.

It was a strange thought. An awkward and uncomfortable discovery.

But it was there now, all the same.

Geralt put the bowl down on the stack of plates she had washed and took her by the shoulders, drawing her closer for a kiss to her cheek.

"I know how you feel, Ciri. Trust me, I do know. He doesn't. While you're open to discover that there can be something you didn't think possible, he's not. And no one else can let him feel that way if you decide to let him be. There is absolutely nothing to bind him even a little to the world you live in. To any of who you call family. You let him go – you lose him. So you will have to choose what you will or won't do."

He embraced her for a short but sweet moment, then took the plates and went back inside.

Ciri did not know what was more surprising — the fact that Geralt was encouraging her to reach out to Kain, or that now she had his blessing to do so she felt even more scared.

It seemed she would have to risk an awful lot. Put her metaphorical heart out there and accept that Kain might crush it should she tread wrongly.

She remained outside as Geralt retreated, wiping her wet cheeks with the sleeves of her shirt. It had started to become dark. And when she sensed, almost on instinct, that Avallac'h was seeking her, she disappeared.

* * *

She landed exactly where she and Kain had parted earlier and slowly, tentatively made her way through the brush towards his cave. She knew there had to be one.

But a cave was not what she found. Following her instincts had led her to one of the lakes. She recognized it as one of the places where Lambert had sometimes taken her fishing.

Kain was there. As was the Griffin. The former was sitting on a rock, eyeing the still water in front of him.

She hesitated, torn between walking up beside him and simply running away.

She didn't run.

She sidled up beside him, arms folded over her chest as if to hold herself together, her gaze firmly on the lake. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to… make you understand how I feel. How to connect. But I am trying."

Kain was silent for a long while, unable to move or think of what to say to that. What he felt was fear of what it could be and how bad it would sting in the end. There was always an end. It doesn't hurt to lose what you don't have. It was where he intended to stay. But she wouldn't let him. And he only had two options: indulge or hurt.

Two bad choices.

It seemed to be the curse of his life: to always choose between two evils.

Hurt her and be one of the hundreds that had already put a scar on the girl who didn't deserve any of it. Only this one would be the one she might never heal.

He didn't even know how he was certain of it, but felt it was true.

"My strongest connection was to my mother," he said in a quiet voice that sounded alien to him. "But I can never be with her. It's a loss that never heals.

"Other connections I thought I had ended, too. It never stays. Maybe it never can stay. Maybe everything in this world ends eventually, and then your own self is all you can count on being there for you. Nothing else. No one else."

Ciri turned to watch him, sympathetic to his fear and pain but in this case unwilling to let it swallow her whole the same way it was him. "Is that what you really think? Or would it just be easier not to risk anything at all?"

"It's what I know, what has been the case for me. And yes, it's easier to be alone, for everything eventually comes to this."

"That will never change unless you try," she ventured cautiously, leaning against the boulder he was sitting on to regard him. "Why did you stay to fight The Hunt? Why did you agree to come to Velen?"

"Because my instinct told me it was the right thing to do. I trust that the world will always place me where I need to be. It's been like that all my life."

She nodded slowly "And your instincts about me tell you to stay away?"

He frowned trying to search himself. "I don't know. I just know that getting attached brings pain in the end. Pain that could be avoided."

"And the prospect of being alone for the rest of your life, does it bring you happiness?"

"It's what always has been. I don't know anything else."

"That's not true – you lived with the druids for a while, you said so yourself. At the Witcher School. And in Brokilon. You weren't entirely alone, you could not have been."

"Druids were my family until I was five. I had my mother with me until I was five. She wasn't always there, but she visited. After she took me to the School, I haven't seen her. She told me it was safer for both of us to be apart. All I had of her since then were dreams. Rare dreams.

"At the School everybody was on their own, essentially. Just like in Brokilon - I was on my own. I've been alone for twenty years. Five years of belonging to a family doesn't beat it."

"Why was it safer for you to be apart from your mother?" Ciri frowned. "Did you ever find out? Did she fear the persecution of mages?"

"She never explained. She said I had to trust her. That my power couldn't get in the wrong hands. That it belonged to this world and no other."

"To this world?" she asked. "She feared someone would try to take your power for themselves?" Her smile was void of humor. "Sounds terribly familiar."

"I don't understand it any more than I did at five."

"Seems to me your mother knew you were special. Important. Just as I've known from the moment we met."

"Being special is a curse, then."

"Of course, it is. People imagine it is some sort of magical, wonderful thing to stand out, to be able to do things others can't. That is rarely the way it truly is."

"A curse means a curse to anyone who is around. I don't want it for anyone. Especially you when you have your plate full with pain as it is."

"And I do not wish that on you either," she said, averting her gaze. "And yet I am here. Must be the selfishness in me."

"I stayed because you wanted me to. Because I felt I had to help."

Ciri smiled a little, looking to meet his gaze. "I appreciate that. But you do not owe me anything, Kain. It was never my intention to make you feel trapped. I was just scared, am scared, of the potential harm that could befall you if we are apart. And I would never even know." She shifted a little beside him, folding her arms across her chest again. "Like I said – selfish."

"I don't have a habit of walking into traps. I'm here because I said yes and meant it."

He'd said yes and meant it, and still he wanted to put distance between them. Two very conflicting statements in her opinion. She was silent, not sure what to say about that, looking to the beautiful darkening sky up above them.

He turned his eyes away from the water and studied her for a bit.

"What do you really want?"

"That is a hard question to answer," she said silently after a while of contemplation. "The very same question Geralt asked me less than an hour ago. Long term? I don't know. Right now? You. Beside me. Close to me. To hear your voice. Feel your presence. Your scent. It is some sort of primal need, I suppose. Not one that sounds terribly eloquent when put in words."

He watched her in silent contemplation.

It had to do with her unwilling detachment from Geralt and the team and her need for some comfort she couldn't find among them. Kain couldn't understand why she wouldn't try to restore her connection with Geralt, but asking about it would make her feel pushed away again.

"I don't want to live at the keep. That part of my life is over."

"I think it's over for all of us. It will be left empty in a few days time. Abandoned," she said, staring out at the water.

"Your room is still there. You need your sleep in your bed. And in the morning your elf is going to look for you there. Geralt is also there."

"I meant in the long run. And I would never make you stay at the keep if you didn't want it."

"And I mean now. If you came to bring me with you back to the keep for the night, it won't happen."

"I didn't. I came to talk."

He regarded her with mild amusement. "Talk."

She turned to meet his gaze. "We have. We are."

He sighed and looked up at the sky where the bright dusk colors had begun to turn darker. The first few stars were already twinkling furtively among the thin shreds of clouds.

The sigh didn't go amiss. My lips quirked in amusement. "You're uncomfortable?"

"I don't know... I told you before I'm out of habit of being that close to anyone human. It merely feels... unusual."

"Do you want me to leave?"

He peered at her, conflicted. "A part of me I haven't managed to kill yet doesn't want you to leave. And that part scares me, because no attachment ends well for me."

She smiled a little because even though he wanted to not want her, he still did. It was nice to get confirmation that whatever she was feeling wasn't entirely one-sided. And that she wasn't crazy. "Well, if you are coming to Velen, you will have to put that panic on hold for a while."

He averted his eyes to the lake surface. "It's not panic."

"But it is fear."

He set his jaw. "If you say so."

"You said so, just a moment ago. That part scares me." She looked at him and saw the tension in his face, deciding it might be best to change the topic. "How is Griffin doing? Does he like these mountains alright?"

"The prospects of any relationships scare me," he admitted, ignoring the griffin question. "I'm not good at it. Relationship makes you afraid for someone else's life, and the loss cripples you. All you need is a little attachment to have it cripple you."

"Were I to die right now, would it make you grief?" she asked curiously. "If so, is it not already too late?"

"Death is not the only thing. When it's one thing for you and something else entirely to the other, it also brings pain. Thus I chose to stay alone, and I was good at it for many years. And then, as soon as I allowed myself a bond, it didn't last. I decided to never try again."

And who was Ciri to try and change his mind about that when he was so certain it was something he did not want? "I understand," she said eventually, not willing to admit the disappointment she felt at that. "You have made up your mind."

He knew what she felt – it oozed for her voice, her very body close to him. It wasn't fair to her, he knew it wasn't. But what he didn't know was what was right for him to do. She always came around to confuse him, to push him away from things he firmly stood on, and then he found himself on a wobbling ground. She made him lose himself to some extent, and he hated it. The only constant and reliable thing in his life was that state of mind, his choices and decisions, his logic and instincts, and she managed to steal that balance from him so sneakily it was indeed scary.

"There was a dryad in Brokilon," he ventured in a meditative voice, staring at the water. It was still as a mirror, rippling subtly with the breaths of wind. "She was more curious than the others. She took interest in me, perhaps because she knew Geralt before, and I reminded her of him, hair or Witcher amulet. I was reluctant to respond, but my own curiosity and obligations to their community while I lived there made it easier to cave. She gave me a semblance of bond I hadn't have since my druid childhood. She gave me a way to feel more at home there, to feel more of what it meant to belong. It wasn't love, but it was something that had no label. It felt good to be together – better than being alone. She was the key that opened the inner world of Brokilon to me. Other dryads became more friendly, and I felt less like someone they merely tolerated.

"I guess after that my aid in their war was more like fighting for her cause. I took it over the absence of any cause. She was passionate about it, and it gave a bit of color to what felt pretty nasty before. I tried to see her reason, and even though I didn't always see eye to eye with her, it still made it feel slightly easier. Maybe I fought to not let their war kill her.

"And then there was an army at our border, and we went to protect it. Vastly outnumbered, dryads sold their lives at very high prices. Human losses were many, but they kept coming, determined to clear us out. Sole bows weren't going to make it, and some of us met them with the swords. It went on for hours with changing success, and it was a massacre. I had never been as tired in my whole life, and humans never ended. Their strength didn't falter, and they all were metal-clad. I caught a few stabs in my sides and shoulders, bleeding and nearly passing out. And when I finally managed to slice the knight's throat, I felt I was going down, as well.

"Next instant she was in front me, her eyes wide, her arms wrapping around my neck. I fell back beneath her weight, and as I was falling, I saw two knights a few yards from us, recharging crossbows. Their two bolts meant for me were in her back.

"I tried to stay awake, to get up and kill them, knowing I couldn't possibly even stand straight, and she kept squeezing my shoulder, whispering, 'Don't move… Don't move…'

"It felt like I was dying with her, and I hoped I was. Her last command kept spinning in my head.

"I woke up in the dryads' care with their herbal bandages all over me. The dryads managed to keep the stand until the humans retreated fearing even grander loss. It was costing them too much, much more than they had anticipated before coming there.

"None of it mattered to me, because Brokilon died for me when she did. Along with what I intended to be my last bond. I left Brokilon as soon as I could walk."

His story was grim, very grim indeed. And yet his earlier words of being frightened of any kind of relationship was being contradicted once more. He was sharing. He was helping create a connection. She did not point that out. She listened, feeling sorrow for the friend he had lost, well aware what that could do to a person.

"I have a similar tale of a friend lost. It was not love, but at the time, I had convinced myself it might be. Because I was scared of being left alone in the dark again.

"When I watched her die, it hurt a lot. Though when I think of her now sometimes I hate her. She did some things… Things I have come to realize she would not have done had she truly cared for me. I think she, too, was lonely."

Ciri inhaled, squinting against the growing darkness.

"The few connections I have made with people since then belong to other worlds. I knew from the start it would end sooner or later, so I did not grieve when it was time to go, even if I knew I would never see them again." She turned to him. "I am so sorry you lost someone important to you. I am sorry you had to experience that pain."

There wasn't anyone who was more sorry than he was.

"It's against their nature to give their lives for strangers or outsiders. If I wouldn't have caved, had I kept the distance, she would still be alive. She wouldn't put herself between me and my death. I never wanted it. I never want it again."

"You tried to put yourself between Vesemir and his death," she pointed out softly. "You don't get to choose whether people care about you or not. Even should you decide to hide away."

Kain peered at her with a faint reprimand for her failing to understand. "If no one is attached to me, no one will die for me again. I don't want anyone to die for me ever again."

"Too late," she said. "Me, those people back at the keep, excluding Avallac'h, would all give their lives to defend yours. They would even if you were a complete stranger. That is the kind of people they are."

"I hoped to not give them such chance. I wasn't planning on becoming one of the Witchers or one of any group once again. I wanted to help you with the Hunt since it felt right to do so – after fate threw you at me at Skellige and I couldn't escape. But I wasn't going to stay around to celebrate."

"There is nothing to celebrate." She shrugged. "Life rarely ends up the way we plan or want."

Kain drew in a deep breath, held it, then let it out, slipping off the rock. "I need to sleep it all off."

She nodded. "Alright. I will stop by when I've more details of our journey to Velen. That is, if you still want to come?"

"I said yes and meant it," he responded tiredly, strolling away, Griffin trotting ahead of him.

She let him go and did not follow, keeping her gaze on the lake ahead and how the rising moon was reflected in its surface.

Avallac'h would be furious when she returned. So she decided not to. Not just yet.

Kain collected some twigs and branches for the campfire and made one as soon as they returned to their cave. Griffin settled down in his spot, and Kain lay down beside him, watching the flames while attempting to get rid of the repetitive thought of how he shouldn't have told her about Morénn. It served no purpose.

_She refused to understand._

Moreover, Kain was standing on a crossroad unable to pick the right route. She made sense with things she said, but it didn't make sense for him to step over his own decisions. He didn't know what to do about Ciri.

_Maybe_, he thought to himself almost dozing off, _she found me for a reason._ There was always a reason. If that reason was defeating Eredin and his Wild Hunt, then Kain should help her and then he could leave.

If there was any after…

* * *

When Ciri eventually went back to the keep, she travelled directly to Yennefer's room. She wanted to avoid Avallac'h at all costs, as well as whatever questions the rest of the men downstairs might have for her.

The room lay cold and dark before her. She moved to the fireplace and lit it by placing her hand close to the stack of wood inside, enveloping the brick walls in an orange hue.

Taking a seat on the makeshift bed she had made for herself the night before, she began to remove her weapons, her boots, and lastly her clothing, wrapping the animal furs around her to stay warm.

She was being selfish in pursuing Kain. She knew. Especially when he feared the death of someone he might care about. She could not promise him she would survive The Hunt, or even what came after. Maybe it was for the best this way.


	17. Chapter 17

_~ Once again, thank you oh so much for your review, **RedHood001**! We absolutely love to read your thoughts on the story. _

_Have a great day and stay safe! Bless you ~_

* * *

When Eskel and Geralt were out the door to hunt some hares, Kain beat them to it strolling in with his griffin in tow, a bundle of four hares in his hand.

"Gods, you're quick," Eskel sneered, taking the bundle.

Kain let on a smile, short as a ray of sunshine peeking through a thick cloud. "It's no big deal. We hunt every day, anyway."

Eskel elbowed Geralt: "We have to consider fishing later."

He nodded and waited for Eskel to disappear in the keep. He studied Kain; the boy was going to go back.

"You all right?" Geralt asked.

He nodded. "Sure."

"Staying for breakfast?"

"Already had it. I planned to take a swim now."

"All right," the Witcher stepped back as if showing he wasn't stopping him. Kain turned and walked away. The griffin seized Geralt up with his sharp eagle eyes, then followed his friend.

"Have you seen Zireael?"

The Witcher frowned, turning to Avallac'h. That Elf could sneak.

"No. Maybe you overwork her and she hides from you."

He scowled. "Rather she skips away to be with the boy."

"The _boy_ might be my age - and he's just been here. Alone. Look into your methods better, Sage. Excuse me."

Geralt turned and walked away into the keep.

* * *

Ciri woke the next morning when the sun was already up. That in itself was shocking. She hadn't slept in for… well, as long as she could remember.

She got dressed and reluctantly headed downstairs. She did not want to participate in this day. A prerogative she might have had were she still a princess. Though her grandmother had never let her sleep in late or hide away. Maybe some other princesses.

Downstairs Ciri ran into Eskel who was carrying a bundle of dead rabbits. _Kain_. Somehow, she just knew. "Let me help skin them," she offered. Eskel gladly accepted and handed them to her so she could put her knife to them.

Zoltan was still outside and Eskel was about to go, too - Ciri was at the table skinning the hares when Geralt came in.

As soon as the two were alone, he joined her with a knife.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said, working her knife before taking a firm hold of the rabbit pelt and yanking it down the carcass. "Bit tired, though. Don't much feel like training today."

"Avallac'h is already antsy like a werewolf with fleas. Searching for you."

"He'll find me soon enough, I am sure."

He pulled the skin off the hare and peered at Ciri, trying to read her. "Did you talk to Kain? He looked gloomy. Or tired - like you."

She hung one of the rabbits up to dry and started on the next. "We talked. And came to the conclusion it is best to keep our distance. He'll join us for Velen, but… I think he will leave after that."

Geralt regarded her intently. "It's his conclusion, not yours, isn't it?"

"At first, but… the more I think about it, the more sense he makes. Being in my life, he is going to get hurt. In one way or another. And that is what he is trying to avoid. Got to respect that."

She yanked the rest of the pelt off with a slight groan, flinging to aside to a small side table.

"Is that what you want? To let him go? And if the Hunt gets him, you won't let the guilt cripple you?"

"Guilt cripples me no matter who they kill," she said coldly. "They're here for me."

Geralt sliced under the hare's skin and studied her with sharp eyes.

"You haven't answered my question," he said in a soft tone. "Is letting him go what _you_ want?"

"It's what's safest for him."

That was a no-explanation in disguise of one.

He sighed and decided not to press her on it. It was not his place to bend her decisions.

They hung the rabbits up in the kitchen where Zoltan could get to them later, though there was probably a lot of the venison left over from the previous night. "Any word from Yennefer? Triss?"

"No. It wasn't the easiest task that they took upon themselves. It might take more time.

"Avallac'h also hinted on more time for training, so for now you're stuck with it. We all have our jobs, it seems."

"I've been thinking of what you said." Ciri lowered her voice because it was quite likely the Elf in question was lurking somewhere close by. "I am not sure how well Avallac'h can train me in battle magic."

Geralt peered at her with a glint of surprise. "What do you suggest we do? Not even Yennefer is here to help anything. What can you do without Avallac'h?"

"There is another talented mage close by. If he is coming with us to Velen anyway, he may not mind helping me out."

It did not mean things had to get highly personal. She could control herself. Maybe.

Geralt frowned, squinting subtly as if to glimpse any hidden sublines he wasn't seeing. "I thought you wanted to stay away from him. Or it's what _he_ wanted - I'm confused as of who wants what between you two."

So was Ciri. "I can keep an emotional distance even if we are standing next to each other. Like… a professional. Surely you had to act like that as well with girls of the other Witcher schools?"

That made him sneer, even though he tried to stop himself. "Well..." He scratched the back of his head, searching himself. "Felines managed to stay professional while doing everything in their power to make us fail it. And mostly they won."

Ciri looked up at him a furrowed brow, uncertain if she should be disturbed or not. "Is that your way of saying you shagged them all?"

Geralt squinted as if expecting a blow and made a so-so gesture. "Maybe a couple were left out..."

"Gross," she muttered, though a part of it was in jest.

He grinned. "Good times."

"I haven't seen you smile like that in ages. It's disturbing." She wiped her hands on a rag and threw it aside. "So what do you think? Kain versus Avallac'h?"

His smile dimmed quickly to be replaced by a contemplative frown. "I have no idea what kind of magic he uses and how. So I don't know which option is better.

"I know, however, that Avallac'h will not take kindly to being replaced. You will bring even more of the elf's attention to your friend. To play it smart, you'll need to engage both."

"So, stop eating and sleeping?" she suggested, then sighed. "Alright. I shall start with The Fox. I am sure his reprimanding lecture about last night will take a good hour alone."

Geralt chuckled softly and patted her arm in encouragement. "Good luck."

She smiled and headed out into the main hall where she found Avallac'h immediately. As expected, he was not pleased, and he practically hauled her outside by her arm as if he was scared she'd disappear on the way. It was rare for him to get physical.

He spent some time imparting on her the importance of their training and reminding her they were not just preparing for The Hunt, but what came after. He still had not told her in detail what she was supposed to do to stop The White Frost, but somehow she doubted throwing air and fire at a fatal storm would help much.

Still, she did not complain, allowing him to teach her to use the elements as best she could, attacking and defending herself until she was out of breath and her head was aching as though a group of trolls had set up camp in her skull.

"You are paler than usual," Avallac'h said once they took their first break of the day. "Something troubling you, me luned?"

"Just tired," she lied, when in truth she was filled with strange nervous butterflies at the prospect of going to see Kain later. Excited to see him again, yes, but nervous she would not be able to hold her tongue or keep her distance in the way that she had promised herself.

Avallac'h regarded her a moment longer, but did not question her further.

* * *

Kain spent more time in the lake than usual - using magic this time to redirect the flow into his hands under water to warm it around him.

He didn't succeed from the go, because the water was freezing, and Griffin's croaking from the shore was distracting. But eventually he managed to succeed and keep it warm around him for a longer washing session.

When Kain came out, however, the air bit him with cold much harder than it would otherwise. He dressed quickly and fed more wood to the campfire he had made beforehand on the shore.

Griffin was lying next to it, busy with combing his fur and feathers with his beak as usual. Kain leaned against him, letting the beast's body warmth seep through the jacket and make him stop shivering. There were no clouds, and the sun shining at them helped, too. Kain felt almost serene, and let his eyes close.

* * *

After another few grueling hours of training, they were called to lunch, and to Ciri's absolute horror Avallac'h had decided to eat with them today. Had he overheard what she'd told Geralt? Did he suspect?

She sat down close to said witcher, smiling blandly as they were served their meal, leftover meat from the night before.

This was one of those times she wished she had a telepathic talent, so she could escape the awkwardness of Avallac'h's watchful eyes and indulge in conversation with Geralt.

Everybody was watching the Elf like he grew a few horns from his high and smooth forehead. He did his best to ignore their gaping and began to eat, fork and knife. When Zoltan started distributing mugs with mead, he held up his hand and asked for water in a quiet voice. His wish was met, and then they all sat down to eat.

In awkward silence.

After a few minutes of it, Zoltan snapped his cunning eyes to Eskel and went to where they both liked to dwell: on what was happening between Lambert and Keira before they left together.

Avallac'h didn't enjoy the shift in atmosphere but seemed to intend to sit through it.

"So, how is that training?" Geralt asked both him and Ciri, given they sat in close proximity and wouldn't disturb Zoltan and Eskel.

"Good," she said, her voice blending with Avallac'h's who had responded at the same time.

"Satisfactory. Zireael learns quickly when she applies herself and keeps distractions at bay."

She chewed her meat and swallowed. That was high praise coming from Avallac'h. Even with the subtle snide remark about Kain.

The Witcher chewed his meat, contemplating while watching them both with cunning eyes.

"Excuse me for my curiosity," he began, looking mostly at Avallac'h, "but how come you haven't practiced all those things before in those years you've been hiding together? Surely there were moments when you could use magic just like you do it now."

"We practiced plenty in the World of Metal," Avallac'h said calmly. "It was a place where Eredin could not follow. But when Zireael insisted we return to this world—" he looked at Geralt as if blaming him entirely for this, "—we no longer had the luxury."

Ciri added, "I have used my powers only when absolutely necessary since then. It feels strange to be training again."

Geralt felt the prick he dealt, and looked at Ciri with a hurt concern. "You returned because of me? You shouldn't have, Ciri. You should've known I'd want you to stay hidden, even if it was where I could never find you, either."

She smiled a little. "I am tired of running, Geralt. Tired of only existing. I want to fight and to be with the people I love."

Avallac'h made a face of slight distaste, hidden behind his cup of water as he drank.

"Besides, that world had a terrible buzzing to it. Hurt my head."

The frown did not disappear from Geralt's brow, but he did understand her desire. It was wrong to demand she ran when she could no longer be alone and broken. They needed each other and could only go so far without it.

"Well then," he sighed and took a sip of his mead. "You're resting for the remaining day? You could go fishing with us."

"We still have work to do," Avallac'h said curtly, eyeing Geralt like he was a distinct threat now.

Ciri shook her head at the Elf. "I am done for today. Any more and my head will explode."

He started at her for a long time as if expecting she would cave under his glare. She didn't.

"No elf left in you at all," he said eventually, getting to his feet and gliding away. She knew that had been meant as an insult but tried to pay it no mind.

"I would love to go fishing with you," she told Geralt with a smile, grateful he had provided her with a reason to get away from the keep without raising Avallac'h's suspicions.

Geralt smiled and nodded. "It's settled, then."

* * *

Later that day as the men headed out for their fishing trip, Ciri made her way to the lake where Kain had left her the night before. She could sense he was there. It was a good day for swimming, if one enjoyed the cold water, and she expected he had washed sometime before she arrived.

Even she felt tempted to go for a dip, but this did not feel like the right moment.

"What do you know about battle magic?" she asked, settling beside him and the Griffin next to their fire.

Kain snapped his eyes open, peering with a mild surprise. "I wasn't taught battle magic. Except for how they taught the other witchers how to do the signs, which didn't work for me."

"Hm." That was a shame. "But you use magic when fighting, yes?"

"My use of magic is intuitive. Some coming from druid training, some I just feel how to do."

"So there is nothing you can teach me that would prove useful in battle, and I just snuck away from Avallac'h for nothing?" She found that somewhat amusing. "Ah, universe, you have failed me."

He watched her, balancing between amusement and curiosity. "What did you think I would teach you? Spells and incantations that snap your enemies' necks and make their heads explode?"

"That would have been nice," she smiled, looking to her hands. "Avallac'h is well versed in magic, but he is not really a warrior. He is a scholar. And since you have had magical training since you were a small child, from a different group of mages, I thought maybe you might have something I could learn from.

"The people down at the keep seem to be under the opinion I should use my power to protect my allies from harm during battle. But other than slicing at our enemies with my sword, I am not quite sure how I am supposed to do that."

"You seem to have a grand amount of energy - of that magical power within you," he said, eyeballing her pensively. "The only problem seems to be that it comes out either to make you cross into another world or to kill everything around you when you can't control your grief and fear.

"You can heal yourself, but that requires training, as we've seen. I'd say you could do anything if you knew how to summon and direct that power.

"First thing to learn is to feel that power as a part of you. When you roll out of control - it takes over you as if it's an enraged bull you're trying to ride and fail. You should be able to direct it as your own hand that would never betray you."

"That is a fair point," she conceded. "Back at the keep when it all happened, it was as though I was no longer present at all. It got dark." She turned to him. "I have spent a lot of time being afraid of it, the power. Because I used it wrong or lost control. How can I change that? How can I… embrace it?" Was that even the right word?

"You should stop being afraid of it. The opposite of fear is knowledge. You have to get to know it. You have to learn how to wield it, like someone trying to make use of one's legs after a disabling wound.

"First of all, you have to realize that it is a part of you, and it's not going away. You can cut your hand off if you want. But you can't cut off something that you can't see or touch. You have no choice but embrace and learn it."

"Can that be done is such a short amount of time, you think?" she asked, a little concerned. "The moment we leave here, I'll have to keep it all inside again, deny myself even the parts of my magic that feels most natural to me."

A subtle sardonic smirk ran across his lips as he averted his eyes to the lake.

"See, that's the problem. Time. Your power knows no time. To become the power, you have to forget about the time. You have to be beyond the time."

He was starting to sound like Avallac'h now. "I don't understand. How can I connect with my power if I am not allowed to use it. If I am barely allowed to feel it?"

He gave her a serious look. "You can't walk if you're not allowed to use your legs. And you will never learn to walk without the use of your legs."

"So until The Hunt is no longer an issue, I cannot connect with that part of myself?"

"It's a part if you," he reasoned patiently. "You have to connect with it and be whole. Before you're whole, you cannot defeat the Hunt or anything at all. You cannot defeat even yourself - because you're at war with a part of yourself."

Frustration flared. Ciri rubbed her hands over her face. "I don't understand. I don't understand how to do this without alerting The Hunt to my location?"

"They know where you are, don't they? So what does it change if you don't use your power? You were using it while training with your Elf, were you not?"

"Yes. But we will only be here for a few more days. And when we leave, we hardly want to alert Eredin to our new location."

Kain was silent for a long time, watching her with a shrewd squint as if there was a particularly profound message writing itself all over her face.

"You came here wanting something," he said eventually. "What it is that you want? Name it."

Ciri pondered that a moment. How to put her needs into words. "I want help. Your help. To control my power better. To understand it more."

"When do you want it?"

She blinked. "Now, please."

"When is now?"

She watched him. This was getting awfully philosophical. "… Now?"

His lips twitched in the smallest of amused smiles. "And when is Velen?"

She narrowed her eyes, feeling as if he was regarding her as though she was a dimwitted child. Not that he was entirely wrong to. "Later."

"What is later to you?"

"A time that is after now."

He composed a surprised mien. "How do you know what comes after now? Has it happened? Is it happening?"

"I don't know what will come. Only that it will." She leaned in a little, whispering. "Has the training begun? Is this it?"

He ignored the question. "If you don't know what will come - does it exist?"

"Not yet."

"Then why does it matter to you now?"

She could argue. She could bring up all her anxieties and her need to be prepared for whatever was to come. But she knew that was not what he was looking for. "It doesn't. It only does if I allow it to."

"Why do you allow it to? How does it help you in the now?"

"I suppose… it is a bad habit I have acquired over the years. In an attempt to stay prepared. But it has not necessarily helped."

"If you choose a goal to be prepared for something you don't know about, something that doesn't exist, can you even do that?"

"No?" she guessed, her head starting to hurt at all these riddles.

Kain spread his arms in a mute invitation for her to see how it's all clear now.

"Then why do you do something you cannot do when it helps absolutely nothing in your actual life?"

"Because I am a ball of neurosis and bad memories?" She sighed. "Alright. I understand your point. No use obsessing about something that has not, and may never, happen."

He nodded slowly. "In order to do something - anything - successfully, you have to know how to do it. To live, you need to know what life is.

"What you are having issues with is time. What is time? You can't see it, you can't touch it - much like air that is around you despite your inability to see it. But time is the course of things, the sun's progress across the sky and then the moon's.

"You're neither the moon nor the sun, you're Ciri. And the only thing you need to know and see about time is that time for you doesn't exist.

"What is past? Something that happened to you that you can no longer change. It happened and is gone, untouchable. All you can do about it is draw lessons from it - clues for how to do things better. Future is something that doesn't exist at all. It's merely an illusion, no more real than a story you hear at a tavern.

"So tell me, Ciri, is it wise to spend your precious life making yourself crazy over a story that has nothing to do with you? Over an illusion that has never been real, nor yours?"

"No. Though I never claimed to be wise," she said, smiling slightly, a slight shiver rippling down her spine every time she heard her name mentioned in his voice.

He continued: "Your power is your life force, your energy, a part of you as solid and rightful as your body. But you see your body and are used to perceive it as yourself, whereas your power you cannot see as a part of yourself. And so you fear it as if it's some invader, an enemy inside your body that attacks you when it will.

"To learn your power, you need to compare it what you know. Like your body. When you hurt it - you recognize that you are hurting. And then you address that part of your body, connect to it, communicate with it so it would do what you want - heal. Understand?"

"In theory." She shifted beside him. "If my body is not hurting, how do I connect then? How do I begin?"

"Do you only remember about your body when it hurts? Does it cease to be when it doesn't hurt?"

"A lot of the time, yes – I pay more attention when there is pain. Though even then I have learned to ignore it, to withdraw deep into myself until I am nothing but an empty puppet. Self-preservation.

"I am not saying that is right or healthy, but… it has been what helped me survive."

"When you retreat within and become empty - it means you give up control. This is what you taught yourself - and your power - about what you are. This is why your power takes control: because if you refuse, someone has to."

She nodded slowly. "Makes sense. I shall have to try and change that. Might be easier now I am not a child. And not alone."

"You start by reconnecting to your body. Something you know.

"One of the druids told me that our bodies always hurt. That each instant there are thousands of small pains all over our bodies and this is how we sense things with it. The difference is in how intense the pains are. Even the greatest pleasure your body can experience is a series of nervous shocks and explosions in your body that you perceive as pleasant. There is a very fine line between pleasure and pain, and it's all about how your body translates it for you."

She stared, eyes empty for a moment because her thoughts had wandered to the pleasure he spoke of, unveiling flashes of memories that brought not only shame but some kind of anger and fear.

_Mistle. _

_Auberon. _

_Eredin._

Cheeks flushed with color, she averted her gaze and nodded once more. "Right. That, too, makes sense."

He said, "There are things your body is doing constantly and you don't have to worry or think about it - until something hurts. What I mean is breathing, looking, hearing, smelling. You don't have to control them as fully as some other tasks because your body does it for you.

"If you want to reconnect to your body, you need to let it show you how it does things for you. You have to play with it, watch how it's done and try to make a difference even in those things you never controlled."

"Almost like a form of meditation," she suggested, subtly pressing her cold hands to her cheek to cool down. "I can do that."

"It is a form of meditation," he agreed. "Sit comfortably, close your eyes and let yourself feel the way you breathe, how it happens, how the rest of your body responds; how your heart accelerates whenever you take a deeper breath and how it slows down on shallow ones. Watch how close to stillness you can come the quieter you breathe.

"And while doing all that, you're becoming aware of your body. You connect. You become. And then you are."

She decided to start right then. Might as well while the teacher himself was close by.

She shifted where she sat again, getting more comfortable, crossing her legs, and closing her eyes. She listened to the sound of the wind, to the ripples in the water whenever a fish popped to the surface, to the birds twittering in the trees around them. And then, she turned that attention inside.

She sat for a long while, lips slightly parted, brow furrowing every now and then when she had to adjust her concentration. She listened. To the sound of her body. Her breath. How her neck squeaked slightly every time she moved her head just a little bit…

The world around her fell away.

Kain observed her for a while, the subtle emotions running through her features like a ripple across the surface of a lake; how the energy around her flowed and shifted, how her breath changed.

Then he closed his eyes again and let her be with herself for as long as it took her.

When she came to, she looked at Kain. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be doing what she had just finished. She decided not to disturb him.

Unsure if she was supposed to feel any different after that little session, she searched herself and found that at the very least she was calm. Soothed.

Quietly, Ciri moved down to the water's edge and splashed her face, submerging her hands as well while taking some time to examine that particular sensation. Not quite pain yet. But definitely not pleasure.

Kain opened his eyes to observe her lazily when she scooped the lake water to wash her face. The griffin was watching, too, ears pricked up.

She felt his eyes on her but didn't mind, touching the gravelly ground beneath the water with her fingertips, trying to be mindful of the sensation and even the pain that soon set in. When she could stand it no more, she removed her hands and sat back on her heels, observing the lake before her for a moment longer before returning to Kain.

She settled down at his side this time, careful not to touch Griffin with her back in case he would not approve, and held her cold fingers out over the fire, urging the flames to grow a little more powerful so she could warm herself. They did.

Watching the flame leap higher, crackling, he still said nothing.

Her mind had begun to process the strategy, and she was merely following it. Kain had nothing to say until her mind hit a bump on its road.

The fire did not burn her skin, which was strange but welcome. And when that revelation ceased to be important, Ciri sat back again, absentmindedly leaning into Kain's side while watching the dancing flames with a quiet fascination.

He briefly took notice of the sun's position, then closed his eyes again, listening to the crackling of fire.

Griffin croaked softly and lowered his head on his folded paws to nap.

The more the boy beside her relaxed, the more his beast did, so did Ciri. Her eyes eventually fell shut, her consciousness slipping to some faraway place while she relished in the warmth of Kain's body, the sun up above, and the fire blazing a few feet away. She was content.

Griffin's croak and his body stirring beneath Kain's back pulled Kain from a sort of a slumber. He sat up, allowing the beast to stand. The griffin did a cat-like stretch, the front legs and then the hinder ones, and trotted toward the woods.

Ciri looked as if she were sleeping and then yanked from it.

She sat up abruptly when the steady weight she'd been leaning against shifted, blinking awake and observing her surroundings before following the retreating griffin with her gaze. "I think I fell asleep. Sorry."

"I don't know why you're sorry." He shrugged, and got up, stretching. "You probably don't, either."

"Because I'm fairly certain I fell asleep on you," she muttered, pushing the hair out of her face and slowly getting to her feet. Her backside hurt, but she decided not to share that.

"I'm not sorry," he responded nonchalantly, and fed more twigs to the fire.

She watched him, hesitating a moment. "Well… good." She'd gotten the impression he wasn't all that fond of being touched, or being in close proximity to someone other than his griffin in general. It was nice to know that something like this would not send him running.

"I summoned Kelpie."

Kain peered at her, mutely acknowledging it and as though waiting for any elaboration if it would follow.

"Nothing yet. I wait. And hope."

"Your chances here are better than on Skellige Isles."

"Yes," she agreed. "I have seen her do some amazing things, but commandeering ships were not one of them."

Griffin came back, strolling leisurely as if showing off the hare dangling in his beak. He passed them and settled a bit further to have his snack.

Ciri brushed herself off. "I should go. Avallac'h thinks I am out fishing."

"That's too bad you have no fish to show him." A barely-there smile stroked over his mouth.

She shrugged, smiling a little. "Never claimed to be a skilled fisherman."

"Especially without a fishing rod." The smile widened ever so slightly for an instant before hiding away.

"Lambert taught me how to fish using bombs." She paused, remembering. "It never went very well."

Kain grimaces briefly. "Bombs are not for fishing."

"Yes, that was made clear when the fish came to the surface in bits," she said, eyeing him curiously. "My people said you were extraordinary on the battlefield. That you used some kind of magic? How?"

"Same way I move my limbs - or, rather, a bit more complicated at times. Depends on what exactly I need to do."

She laughed. "Can you be more vague?" Sobering, she regarded him again. "Did you see Caranthir? The ice mage?"

"If his name wasn't floating above his head in shining signs, I have no idea who you're talking about."

"He is one of the generals. Wields a steel staff tipped with a sphere emanating an aura of magic," she said, searching his face to see if recognition dawned. "Favors ice magic. Avallac'h told me he is a navigator. A product of experiments and breeding between very powerful elves which has given him the ability to travel to certain worlds beyond his own. He is the one who opened the portals. The one who froze everyone.

"I faced him in battle and though he can definitely hold his own in a swordfight, he relies heavily on magic. Do you think the Aen Elle of The Hunt are more vulnerable to magical attacks than physical weapons? Is there any way we could do what he does? What the sorceresses of the Lodge can do?"

Kain faintly recalled that staff – he might have seem that mage among the attackers, but not as distinctly as Eredin and Imlerith. Those were the ones imprinted in his memory.

"I don't know what the Lodge can do, nor can I travel between the worlds - unlike you. But you, given the amount of power you have to pull off crossing between worlds - you can do anything you put your mind to."

He pondered a moment over her other question, throwing a few more twigs into fire.

"I can't say whether they're more vulnerable to magic than swords: obviously they can be hurt by both. Which way is better - I don't know. They're skilled warriors, and it would be much harder for me to defeat them in a human sword battle. With magic I managed to kill many. That was what drained me in the end so I... couldn't save Vesemir, nor you."

Ciri reached out to touch his shoulder. "Many more would have died had you not aided them early on." He should feel no guilt for that.

She contemplated his words, nodding slowly.

"I would like to explore fire, then," she said eventually. "So that if I lose my sword, blinking away will not necessarily be my only option. If I have the capability of harboring more than one weapon, I should use it, no?"

Kain squinted at her in a pensive doubt. "I don't think you fully understand how it works. Fire, or air, or whatever else - they're just elements. They're a way to express a power. But you cannot express something you haven't mastered.

"Say, you have a sword. You know it has a cutting blade that can defend you and kill your enemies. But you won't be able to fight with it until you learn how to pull it out of its sheath."

"Teach me how to unsheathe it then," she said softly.

"It takes a bit of time." Kain peered up at her from the campfire. "Think your Elf will survive if you're not back from your fishing trip as soon as he hopes?"

Her lips cracked in a huge grin. "No. But I am alright with that."

He faked a small apologetic smile, "It took me three years. I hope you're more talented than I was."

"Doubt it," she admitted. "But I am not expecting miracles. Just a start would be nice. A nudge in the right direction."

Griffin returned to twirl in his habitual cat-like circle behind Kain's back before settling down to clean his claws and fur after the meal. Kain leaned back against him once again.

"A lot of witcher training teaches some things of how to use your power," he said. "But it barely teaches the bases of what power is and how to tap into it. So, a huge part of becoming one of the best Cats was for me my druid training before it. I came prepared. I knew how to do their pendulums and see with my eyes closed. Others needed potions and even then they needed actual eyes. One who knows how to use the power doesn't need to see with one's eyes to see."

She tilted her head. "So how did the druids teach you how to do that?"

"First of all they teach you what the power is: a part of you as rightful as your dense body; only it's shaped differently. It can be seen only by those who are capable of tapping into their own powers to see it.

"Your power, your life force – it's like air, unseen, untouchable, imperceptible. But we feel air when the wind blows in our faces. You can feel your power if you work on it. In a sense, you make the wind blow to let your power touch you and others."

"Can you see my power?" she asked curiously. "What does it look like?"

"It changes colors depending on your moods. Everything reflects in your colors, and you can't hide anything from those who see. So, you're lucky not everybody can see your power."

Just the boy she liked.

Lucky.

"I feel my power the most when I have not been able to use it for a long time. It is like… a buzzing. Rippling under my skin." She looked to him. "What else do they teach you?"

"It's like a… shining around you. A colorful shining that can expand when you feel most relaxed and rejuvenated and shrink when you feel fear and weariness. The more expanded your power is, the more you can sense, perceive, know, feel from the world around you. Like whiskers of a cat, your power collects information from your surroundings. It can reach further than your eyes or nose or ears can. If there's danger, you feel unease, fear, anxiety you can't explain. Your power alerts you before your body catches up.

"To be most alert and effective – and prepared – you have to work with your power and learn to use it like you use your habitual body – your eyes, your nose, your ears. Your power sees, smells, feels and hears further."

"And are there exercises for doing that?" She recalled her witcher training and the various routines she had to memorize and work through until they were perfect. She was good at that. She understood it.

The invisible, imperceptible things, however… that was harder.

"How do you train with the Elf?" he asked. "What does he have you do and how do you do it?"

"Well, the blinking thing just came on its own. Did not really have to practice that. It was mostly instinct.

"When we were in the World of Metal, Avallac'h started to teach me how to move things without touching them. He said something about imagining an expansion of my hands reaching out to touch and lift and push. It took me a few tries to actually manage," she admitted. "We were there for six months, so we trained when we could. Though we had to stay out of sight of the people there. They had their own kind of magic, with their flying ships and tiny megascopes they could hold in one hand. But Avallac'h wanted us to be cautious.

"Each time I tried I managed to move something heavier. Until finally, when we were set upon by bandits, instinct kicked in again and I hurled a man twice my size off the roof of a very tall, strange building.

"While we have been here we have worked on the equivalent of witcher signs. Igni and Aard. He says it is all about visualization and intent. But it is easier when I know what to imagine."

Kain nodded, "He's not wrong about the visualization and intent. He's not wrong about the extensions – the power is you, and whatever you want to do it can do for you. When you know how to tap into that power – as well as you can raise your hand.

"Find those senses in you – those eyes and ears and skin that you can't see but what can make you see and feel. You know where to seek it inside you when you need to move something with your will. Use that familiarity to connect with it better. Try to feel it in your body, and then outside your body.

"Close your eyes, listen to yourself, feel it, feel the power flowing in you, and when you feel it – direct it to your hands, hold them as though there is a ball in them. Feel it form between your palms, getting denser. You can make it hot or colder. Just feel it between your palms."

She closed her eyes and listened. First to Kain's words and then to the sound of her own breathing, going deeper, deeper, seeking something else.

There was that faint buzz again. No louder than a mosquito, but much more pleasant. It made her tingle all over.

She focused on it, following it with her mind, lifting her hands to palm an invisible ball. At first there was only air. Quiet and unmoving as always. So she dug deeper, tugged and coaxed until she felt something shift inside her.

There was a weight between her hands now, only… it was not heavy, still light as air. She could feel her palms rest against something that felt on the verge of being dense. Fragile, like ice that had not yet finished freezing and could pop if you applied too much pressure. So, she treated it carefully, cradling it in a protective manner until it had grown strong.

Ciri was smiling, but did not know it, all her attention on what was happening between her hands. There was a light crackling and the space around her felt very much like the air before a lightning storm. Hot and humid and filled with that strange magic that made the skies roar and crack with flashes of light.

Only this was smaller. Contained. A storm between her fingertips.

Kain's words came to mind and she attempted to make it colder. Slow, but determined. It took some time until she felt the ripple and crackle die, subdued to something calmer but no less powerful. Her palms felt as though she had submerged them in the water again, but the pain was not there. This cold was hers. Belonged to her. It could not harm her.

Once more, she smiled.

"That's good," he praised with a smile. "Now take it back inside, absorb it and feel it join the flow within you and become one with you again."

Kain's voice was far away and yet she heard him perfectly. She inhaled as if bracing herself and refocused her attentions. She imagined the power between her hands was parting and dispersing, slowly breaking apart and re-entering her palms from where it had emerged, like clusters of fireflies going their separate ways.

Her eyelids fluttered faintly at the various sensations, her hands moving closer and closer together until they were finally touching. She kept her eyes closed, in no hurry to leave this moment, for it was as pleasant as falling asleep next to Kain had been earlier.

"What did it look like?" she whispered after a while.

"Can't tell you," he responded quietly to not spook her with any loud sounds. "It's going to be your next mission: make another and try to see with your inner eyes what it looks like."

Ciri kept her eyes closed and started the process anew, following the same paths she had taken before that had worked so well. When her hands were once again cradling energy like it was something precious, she tried to look, really look, rather than just lose herself to the sensations.

"Green…" she said softly as a start, examining deeper. "A bright green. Like the leaves of a tree during spring. And there is silver. Tiny glimmering shards of silver… Swirling calmly… Like snow falling."

"Change the color," he said, watching the energy glow between her hands. "To whichever you feel like."

Blue. She wanted blue. A light blue, like the clearest part of the ocean when the sun shone down on it. That was one of the more calming, soothing images she could conjure.

But then… a different color entirely. A pale brown that turned to honey. No… Hazel. A golden hazel that for some reason made her heart beat faster and her skin flush with warmth.

She didn't describe it to him this time. She did not have the courage.

He smiled unwittingly, observing her experiments. She couldn't pick just one, and it was fine. It was nice to see she did things with more ease than Kain had back in his day. There wasn't a druid to smack her upside the head when she did it wrong.

Not that he needed to.

Red. Red like her flushed skin. Or at least that is what it felt like. That was the next color, eventually diffusing into a pale pink before she brought it back to green again.

"What now?" Ciri whispered, not daring to open her eyes, worried the magic would disappear.

He looked at her with a glint of cunning in his eye. "And now you will fill that thing with love and send it to your Kelpie. You'll keep your eyes closed to see where it ends up - so you'll know where she is."

Ciri swallowed, feeling oddly nervous. What if she was far away? What if she was hurt? Captured? Worse...What if she did not want to come?

_No. No such thoughts._

She inhaled and refocused, thinking of her sweet, black mare. Her savior. Her friend. How much she missed her. How much she loved her. How she would tear down the world to find her.

The energy within her palms expanded with all the emotion she put into it and when it felt like it was about to burst, she let it go.

_Find her. Find Kelpie._

Her arms fell to her sides but her eyes remained shut, brow slightly furrowed in concentration.

"She's close," Ciri whispered eventually. "A day's ride away. She is coming."

He nodded with a faint smile.

"Are you tired?"

"No," she decided after a moment's contemplation. "I'm excited."

"Someday you will be tired," he reasoned. "And then it will be useful to know that there is an endless flow of energy everywhere around you where you could borrow some and restore yours.

"There is a flow of force in you, parallel to your spine. It goes down into the ground from your feet and into high up from the top of your head. By just concentrating on it and on all the energy around you that is like air, you can refill your strength and your magic.

"It's not always successful during a battle. But when you can do it - it can save your life. It takes a few moments - or a bit longer if you're drained, but focus should be strong."

"Is that what you did?" she asked, opening her eyes to look at him. "During the battle?"

"I had no time for that. And later... it was close to impossible to concentrate when I had no strength left for anything."

She nodded solemnly before her face cracked in a grin, taking hold of Kain's arms. "She's coming, Kain! She is alive and she is coming here!"

He peered at her with an amused confusion. "It's what we already knew, though."

"Yes, but she's closer than I thought!" she cried, smiling and twirling in her excitement, feeling almost childlike again at the thought of reuniting with her beautiful Kelpie. "It has been so long..."

Griffin watched her outburst with a mix of curiosity and alarm, croaking softly.

"Not much longer now," Kain said.

"Sorry," she told the griffin when she noticed his distress, wincing a smile. "She was with me through everything you know: Bonhart, Tir Na Lia, Stygga Castle, Avalon, and all the other worlds. My loyal travel-companion, stuck to my side through it all. I have never seen a creature like her. Except maybe your griffin."

Kain shrugged. "If your mare is magical in some way, Griffin's not. All griffins are smart - witchers and people merely don't care about that fact."

"I don't think all griffins would bond with someone who saved their lives. Not all would understand that fact."

"I'm not sure why that happened," he admitted. "But it can't be the only such story. All animals understand much more than people give them credit for."

"That we can agree on," she said, watching the tree line with longing as if expecting her horse would come running through at any moment.

"Your Elf is going to be looking for you. Better get some fish and go home."

"He's always looking for me unless we are in the same room," she sighed. "But yes, I suppose it is time. Thank you for today. For teaching me."

"You did everything yourself. I didn't help with anything, so thank your own ability to learn fast."

"You did," she said, regarding him carefully. "I would not have known how to approach this without you. And you are much less sour than Avallac'h, so that is an added bonus."

"Much less sour," he smirked. "He's probably as preoccupied with future as you are. Fear makes people snap and snarl."

"Indeed. He said that is what drove Eredin to the brink of insanity, knowing The White Frost is coming to eradicate his world."

"Thinking of things that don't exist truly can make one mad," he smiled subtly.

"Well, in Eredin's case it is not so strange. The Frost has already reached his world, steadily spreading and coming closer to where his people live. I suppose that is why he is so desperate now."

"They say you're of their blood," Kain squinted pensively. "That means their blood can stop it somehow. They should combine their efforts and find a way instead of demanding you give your life for them. This is exactly why their world is dying - because of how they treat others."

"Apparently the Elder Blood was only bred into a few bloodlines and more often than not the gene has failed to activate. But you may be right about the rest. They have been brutal, cruel creatures. No less than man, of course. Which I suppose, is why The Frost will likely make its way here too in the end."

"If they looked more carefully through their ranks, they'd probably come up with at least a few with an activated gene. They would be the chosen ones to save their world.

"As for this one... This world is rightfully yours. Not that I would suggest you save it. Maybe it's time for it to perish, too."

"I wouldn't be able to live with that on my conscience," she admitted. "If there truly is anything to be done, I can't not try."

"How do you even know what to do about it? Who's even seen that Frost to live and tell about it?"

"Avallac'h has a plan. He is just not very interested in sharing said plan," she said. "Though he will have to at some point if he wants my help. I have not seen The Frost itself. Only worlds that it has already ravaged."

"Whatever it is, talking about it now is utterly useless. There's nothing you can do about it now, and now is the only time that you ever have. Just now. There's nothing else. There's going to be nothing else. Only now. Don't forget it."

"I will be sure to remember it." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Mind if I come back tomorrow? Do some more training under your guidance?"

"It's probably what I'm here for. I don't mind being of assistance."

Not all. That was the kind of thoughts she shouldn't have. The kind of thoughts Avallac'h would surely beat out of her if he knew.

Ciri swallowed. "I appreciate it."

He gave a faint nod of acknowledgement.

She turned, then abruptly paused. "Oh, I know this probably goes without saying but if you come by the keep, don't mention us doing this to Avallac'h. I doubt he'll be any more understanding than he was at Skellige."

"We don't even look at each other. He doesn't deem me worth of talking to any more than one of the stones the keep was build with."

"He is like that with everyone. Unless you are a full blood Aen Elle, he does not find you worthy."

"I don't think I'll lament my unworthiness."

She grinned. "Good. If it is at all a tiny consolation I find you very worthy."

She swooped in for a very quick embrace, then pulled away.

"Be safe, Kain."

And then, she vanished.

"I can't use my powers," he mimicked, addressing the griffin, and waved a have-you-seen-this hand at where she disappeared.

The griffin croaked.

* * *

Ciri appeared just outside the gates of the keep and walked inside, assuming Geralt, Eskel and Zoltan would be back by now.

She was right. She found them inside cooking up the fish they'd caught.

"Nice haul!" she praised, jumping up to sit on the table.

"Where's yers?" Zoltan teased. "Who ain't workin ain't eatin, lassie."

"Better mood?" Geralt perked up an eyebrow.

"Got robbed on the way. Lost all my little fishes." She held up her hands to show just how empty they were before she looked to Geralt. "Yes. Some time at the lake does a girl good.'

He wondered if they made up or revised their agreement. Whatever it was, Ciri didn't look as broken, anymore. And he was fine with it.

"Need help with the cooking?" Ciri asked.

"When do I ever need help with cookin!" Zoltan roared, shoving more fire wood in the stove. "But get some mead flowin', will ye."

"Will do." She jumped off the table and headed for the nearest barrel. Tapping and receiving a hollow sound, she looked back at the men over her shoulder. "This one's almost empty. Got more in the cellar?"

"We gotta have some!" Zoltan said.

"Wine is also an option," Eskel said, getting up. "Come on, kid, let's see that cellar."

"Last man there's a drowner!" she called, maneuvering her way past Eskel and out of the kitchen, dashing for the stairs with childlike glee.

He followed, though seemingly not in as big a hurry as she was.

She made it down into the dark before him, his footsteps echoing against the stone steps as realization dawned.

She should have brought a lantern.

Eskel smirked when he reached her. "Problems, little one?"

She grumbled. "No. Wine's just not my forte, is all."

He snickered and went in search of what they needed.

"Lassie perked up," Zoltan remarked when the two were out of the room.

"A few hours away from Avallac'h do wonders to one's mood," Geralt sneered.

"Aye, aye. Sounds 'bout right. Ye think we're stuck 'ere for much longer?"

"I'm scared to ask."

They returned from the cellar carrying two bottles each. According to Eskel it had been Vesemir's stash, though he rarely drank the stuff when he was alone. He'd want it to be enjoyed by his family, he said.

Ciri blew some dust off one bottle and uncorked it, pouring the four of them a helping each. Esksl took Zoltan his mug, while she handed one to Geralt, hugging him from behind and attempting to rest her chin on his shoulder. "Kelpie is coming back," she whispered.

That was surprising news. He half turned to glimpse her face, his eyebrows rising. "You sure? How do you know?"

"Kain fixed my bracelet," she whispered, just in case Avallac'h was lurking. "I summoned her, and he taught me how to sense for her location. She is coming. Maybe even as soon as tomorrow."

She kissed his cheek and grinned, unable to tamper down her excitement. Today had been a very good day.

Smiling, he watched her all but dance to her chair. "That is great. I'm happy that you're getting her back."

He saluted her with his mug and drank.

"And now what ye've been waitin for all yer lives: our fish stew!" Zoltan announced, brandishing the first bowl he intended to finish. "Come, lassie, help me get 'em to the table fast."

Ciri threw one last smile at Geralt and obeyed Zoltan's request, gathering the bowls he had ladled out and placing them around the table for the four of them. She doubted Avallac'h would join. Lunch seemed to have been a fluke.

As soon as they were all seated and finished toasting Zoltan's fish stew, the dwarf's sharp eyes went to Ciri.

"Say, lassie, how yer tranin's goin? Think it lasts long?"

Eskel rolled his eyes furtively.

Ciri smiled a little, reading between the lines. "As much as I adore having you here, you know you do not have stay, right? If you miss Novigrad…"

Zoltan roared with laughter. "Oh, lassie dear, no Novigrad compares to this splendor of having ye with us boys. All I was wonderin about was what he's gettin at with all that trainin. He asked three times about ye today before lockin himself up in the damn tower."

Ciri averted her gaze to her food. "He is just trying to prepare me for what is to come. It is not a bad thing to have magic on my side. Especially when facing other mages."

"Don' get me wrong, Ciri," Zoltan said. "But when ye says magic, I think Yennefer or even Merigold lass. They would teach ye plenty."

"So basically, get rid of Avallac'h?" she asked.

"Didn't say that!" Zoltan noted, raising a finger. "But he's not exactly shinin with enthusiasm to be here and see us peasants run around ye taking up yet time, if ye know what I'm sayin."

"He is like that with everyone. And I don't think enthusiasm is part of his, um, repertoire. But he knows a lot about The Hunt. He lived and worked with them for centuries. Even raised one of the generals. Despite our many disagreements, I feel safer to have him with me."

"Did he share all he knows about the Hunt with you, though?" Eskel asked carefully.

"Doubt it." She shrugged. "He answers all my questions, but how much he knows compared to what I do now is hard to tell."

"Yer barely scratchin the surface, I'd say," Zoltan scoffed, drinking.

Eskel ate in silence.

"Perhaps you need to bring him some stew when you're finished," Geralt suggested with a small smirk. "No one wants a representative of high and noble race to perish in a Witcher keep from malnutrition."

That dimmed her mood immediately. She did not want another confrontation. "He's several centuries old. I am sure he can fend for himself."

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't show our normal human hospitality and consideration for his... ehm... quirks," Geralt reasoned. "You need him, and that makes us grateful for his aid. I shall do it myself if you don't want to. No problem."

She eyed Geralt suspiciously. "Really?"

He smiled innocently, "Really what?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you planning to be cruel? Because he will take his sour mood out on me during our next training session."

Geralt faked a hurt frown. "Cruel? When was ever cruel to this... noble Sage? How could you even imply that, Ciri? It's like you don't know me."

Zoltan and Eskel were hiding their sneers behind their mugs of mead, gulping vigorously.

"We're the defenders of humanity, Ciri," Eskel added when he was ready to look as serious as he could muster. "Being cruel is against our nature."

"Ye betcha," Zoltan nodded, slipping off his chair to refill his and Eskel's bowls.

"Well, he's not human," she pointed out with a smirk of her own. "And this kind nature you speak of is certainly not the reputation your lot has gained."

She stabbed her fork into one of Geralt's leftover potatoes and cheekily ate it, seeing as her own bowl was empty.

"C'mere for more, Cirilla," Zoltan called when Eskel went back to the table to put the two bowls down. He took Geralt's and went back to the dwarf.

She squeaked at the indignity of Eskel serving Geralt and not her, rising to her feet to go get her seconds. "It's good. You used rods this time, seeing as Lambert is not here?"

"Of course we did," Geralt said, nodding a thanks to Eskel when he put his refill before him sitting down. "The only right way to do it."

"The only right and pleasant way to do it," Eskel echoed, grabbing his spoon.

"Have you not been with them to see for yourself, Zireael?"

Everybody snapped their heads to see Avallac'h stroll in, his eyes trained on his ward only.

"Great timing," Eskel muttered under his breath.

Ciri felt a brief flush of heat to her skin as she turned to face the Elf, inwardly cursing her own carelessness and Avallac'h's sneakiness. "I went off on my own for a bit," she said. "Alone time is not exactly a luxury I get to allow myself a lot these days. Hungry?"

Avallac'h didn't seem to believe her. Not that it reflected on his face.

"Have you caught anything?" he asked, settling at the table as if expecting slaves to serve him.

"The boys did," she said, serving him his bowl while taking her own back to her seat next to Geralt.

"Now that we have ye here who knows things," Zoltan said, shooting a look at the Sage, "tell us when ye think yer Hunt attacks again?"

"They would have retreated to Tir Na Lia to regroup," Avallac'h said, eyeing his stew with obvious distaste. "Their navigator used a lot of magic to bring them all here in such a huge number. He would need some time to recover, and Erdin will have to rearrange his army to compensate for his fallen soldiers. I say, if we remain here still in a week's time, they will return here."

"All right," Zoltan said, nodded with satisfaction. "That's somethin more or less specific I can appreciate."

"And if they come here and find no one," Eskel raised his head from the bowl to look at the Sage, "will they need some more time to recuperate and travel someplace again?"

"To another world, certainly. Here they will ride until they feel Zireael's power. No rest needed then."

"Is there a way to send them back?" Geralt asked. "Some kind of magic to push them back out of our world?"

"One or two of them? Perhaps. If you were given time before they cut you down," Avallac'h said, poking at his fish stew. "All of them? Hardly. This was our world before it was yours. We belong here. We cannot be banished."

"Think they'll send another army as big?" Zoltan wanted to know. "Or just a unit?"

"Scouting units," Ciri said, earning a nod from Avallac'h. "They always do. A dozen of them perhaps. They seem to save the army for battles."

"Then they could be defeated," Geralt said. "With sword and magic. Yennefer and I shall be with Ciri at all times, and if they catch up, we will send them to their maker. By units."

Zoltan laughed and saluted him with mead. "That's what I like to hear! Enough runnin and hidin. Attack is the best defense."

"Don't underestimate them," Ciri murmured into her mug. "It never ends well when you underestimate your enemies."

"We faced them," Eskel said. "And though it's hard to kill them when there are so many - it's still possible to. They're mortal, and when there is a limited number, I would gladly bet on Geralt, Yennefer and Kain. You have a very good chance, Ciri. You shouldn't underestimate your family and friends, either."

"I'm not. I just want them all to come out of it whole and alive. Besides, the soldiers we fought here… they are nothing compared to Eredin and his generals." Ciri lowered her gaze, murmuring. "No more losses of those I love. I'd rather slit my own wrists."

"Ciri!" Zoltan reprimanded and snorted. "That is unacceptable how low ye think of all of us and ar skills. Ye alone fight like a lioness, I saw ye on the battlefield and I'm impressed as all frozen hells. We won't let em have ye. Don't fret, lassie. We'll show them our northern hospitality. They'll remember where their true home is and where they should out their skinny arses."

Avallac'h looked around the table, seeming to enjoy the sudden bloodlust and all around cheerful atmosphere. Ciri knew he wanted The Hunt dead as much as she did, but she also knew his enthusiasm was much like an adult watching children doing something adorable.

You lost some of the belief an enemy could be defeated once you had been fighting and running for years without change.

"They're better than me. Eredin and his generals," she said softly. "They are stronger, taller, more skilled. When I defeated Eredin in combat, it was pure luck. Please… don't underestimate them."

"But yer still learnin to do yer magic, Ciri," Zoltan said. "They're huntin ye 'cause yer magic is greater than theirs. When ye learn, they'll fly back to their home with their arses still burnin from yer boot."

She smiled; a smile filled with sadness and immense affection for the man cheering her on. "I hope so."

"Ye show them, lassie," the dwarf said with passion, saluting with his drink. "Ye'll show em all."

She did not believe in herself as much as he did. She would have loved to be the one to finally plunge a sword into Eredin's cold heart. But she doubted that was how it would go. It would be someone stronger. Geralt. Or Kain.

And that was good, as well. As long as they came away unharmed.

She stood and gathered the empty bowls around the table. "Thank you for dinner, Zoltan."

"It's nothin, lassie," the dwarf said, waving a hand. But he cracked a huge grin, nevertheless.

* * *

Triss was spread out on top of the covers when Yennefer returned to the Inn, her legs covered with the bottom half of the blanket, her hands tucked beneath her head. She was still awake.

"You didn't sleep, did you?"

She shook her head, sat up and pushed the blankets from her legs. "I couldn't."

"Clearly."

"Did you find out when she's scheduled to perish?"

Yennefer hated to say it.

There was no way.

None of her contacts had panned out and those that she'd tried to use her mind trickery on had been useless. Yennefer had worked her way up a few ranks and it was going to take time – but she had to be sly about it – not too noticeable or it would alert the wrong people and bring them down on her head like acid rain.

She couldn't have that happen, not while things were still so fresh after their failure, and Ciri needed her.

She explained as much to Triss and saw her face fall.

"We can't give up. We can't let her die."

"I'm not planning to do either of those things but if I push too hard."

"You just don't care because she's standing in your way."

Yen's eyes blazed and her hands balled at fists at her side.

"It's no secret that you want to take over the lodge, that it's always been your motivation."

"Triss," she began, trying to be polite, knowing that, like herself, Triss was simply worried for someone she deemed really close. "I don't want Margarita to die."

"But you also don't want her to live, do you? Or you'd be out there doing everything in your pow—"

Yennefer's hand had come up, connected with her cheek and set her green eyes reeling until Yen could see a stain of red splash her face. Triss turned back to her, blinking furiously, a hand lifting to soothe the ache in her face, as if she couldn't believe that Yennefer had assaulted her like or if it had happened.

Yennefer felt nothing, in fact, the entire ordeal was satisfying as she couldn't take Triss's assumptions, her false apologies and beliefs that only what Triss wanted served their people.

"There's nothing to do."

"Of course there is!"

Yennefer closed her eyes. "What I meant is that there is nothing to do right now unless we plan to bring Radovid down on our heads!"

"He's coming anyway!"

And she was right. However, Yennefer had Ciri to think about. She was the important factor and if they went and got themselves caught while The Wild Hunt circled around, what then?

"I need to talk to Geralt. To Ciri."

Triss's eyes grew a darker shade of green and her hand fell away from her face, revealing finger marks that would probably be there for a while. She headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To find Ida and Francesca and tell them what is happening."

"They're not going to care."

"Yes, they are."

"They'll want to save themselves. We're too weak to go up against Radovid on our own! We're outnumbered! That's not even to mention the fact that The Wild Hunt is breathing down our necks!"

"I can persuade them."

An image of Kain jumped into Triss's mind and made Yen roll her eyes.

"I told you, we're not using him, Triss!"

"We need the help!"

They did need the help. But how would making a promise like that achieve anything?

"It's out of the question."

Triss thumped her head against the back of the door, turning to face Yennefer once more, her head reeling with renewed ideas and a lot of words that Yennefer supposed were meant to shame her.

They didn't.

"Fine. I'll go to Dijkstra."

"Didn't you and Geralt just deal with him?"

Yennefer could tell she was a bit surprised that the black-haired sorceress knew that, a renewed blush touching her cheeks, as if she'd expected that to be something in her secret arsenal. Yennefer smiled.

"You sent Keira, remember?"

She nodded and swept a curl behind her ear.

"She has a big mouth."

"Amongst other things," Triss commented.

Yennefer hardly smiled. "Is it dangerous?"

She nodded. "Of course. I'll be fine though – he, he still has feelings for Philippa."

As they all knew that he did.

"I'm sure he'll be able to source some information."

"And if we can't?"

They said nothing but met one another's gazes knowingly.

_Geralt_.

"How long do you think you'll be?"

"A couple hours."

Yennefer knew she probably shouldn't let Triss go alone, that they should both go and see Dijkstra, but the man and Yennefer never got on, and like with Ida and Francesca, her presence would only make it worse.

She nodded and then watched as Triss headed out the door, feeling a small sense of foreboding. There was something the redhead hadn't shared with her and had guarded against her mental charge.

But what?

Yennefer waited until the door closed behind her, and then recalled a portal for herself, stepping through it an instant later to get back to Kaer Morhen.


	18. Chapter 18

Yennefer appeared back in her bedroom, the last place she'd been before she left, and started her way back down the stairs in search of the rest of her family.

It didn't take long to find them in the dining hall of the Keep.

"Interrupting?" she asked as she entered, a means of announcing herself.

All heads turned to her wearing identical masks of surprise.

"Speak of the devil!" Zoltan laughed. "Greetings, lady! Ye hungry?"

Ciri whirled around at the sound of Yennefer's voice and promptly dropped all the bowls she was holding in favor of rushing to her, embracing her tightly. "Yennefer! Are you alright?"

She caught Ciri in her arms and hugged the girl tightly to her chest, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, to her hair, as if Yennefer feared there would come a day she couldn't do it again.

And the sorceress knew how easy that could be.

"I'm okay and I'll pass on the supper," she said, spearing Zoltan a look over Ciri's shoulder, meeting Geralt gaze, and then Eskel's noting that Kain was nowhere in sight.

"Where's your friend?" she asked, loosening her hold on Ciri to draw back from the embrace slightly.

Ciri inhaled her distinctive scent before allowing her to withdraw. "Up in the mountains somewhere. He doesn't like being confined to being inside."

"Has your mission been successful?" Avallac'h wanted to know.

Yennefer wanted to ask her if she was fine with that, sensing again that something was off, but not of the foreboding side like Yen had with Triss. It could wait.

"No, it's—there's been a bit of trouble. I couldn't get of the sorceresses to join us and others have been locked away by witch hunters. Philippa might even be dead."

Ciri wasn't sure how to feel about that. It was bad for them, obviously, and yet… Philippa Eilhart and several other Lodge members were not exactly her favorite people. Like The Wild Hunt, they thought they had a claim to her, her body, her magic, and whatever offspring she might produce. "I doubt it. Philippa is too conniving to let herself be killed."

"A report like that suggest you should be still out there working on this task along with Triss Merigold," Avallac'h pointed out.

"That was my thinking as well. Margarita is being held prisoner and Triss and I have been trying to gather up more information without success," Yennefer narrowed her eyes within Avallac'h's direction. "I've tried every resource that I can without putting myself in the line of fire." And she wasn't going to apologize for that. "Triss assured me though that she could probably talk to Dijkstra, that he'd be able to help as a favor to Philippa."

Ciri looked from Yennefer to Geralt. "I thought you already talked to Djikstra?"

"What we talked about was his possible assistance – which he refused to provide," Geralt specified, finishing his mead. "Now, as far as I understand, the matter of importance is how to find Philippa – and I bet he would love to know that himself."

Yennefer nodded, "I guess that's what she's going to go to him with. How have things been here?"

"Quiet for the most part. I have been training. The boys have been fishing." Ciri moved to collect the bowls she dropped earlier, intending to take them out for the washing up.

"Not that we could truthfully call these meagre attempts training…" Avallac'h murmured.

Yennefer's eyes narrowed as they landed on Avallac'h again. He seemed to be a mind of his own, as if every little thing going on was wrong and had a better solution.

Only he wasn't providing any.

She moved toward Ciri, lowering her voice so they could talk privately for a minute. "How's Kain? How come he chose not to stay?"

Ciri contemplated throwing one of the bowls at Avallac'h until Yen sauntered over to talk. "I told you, he doesn't like to be confined inside. Child of nature and all that."

"That may be so but less than two days ago we were facing off with The Wild Hunt." She didn't doubt they would return at some point and he needed to be around the Keep to survive. Unless he'd already decided he'd had enough.

"He's close by," Ciri whispered before Yennefer left her side, continuing outside to take care of their dishes.

"You want some mead, Yennefer?" Geralt asked.

Zoltan brandished the bottle. "I'll getcha a mug. Stayin to drink or nay?"

Yennefer broke away from Ciri's side so she could finish with her dishes, and smiled at Geralt. "Sure. But that's not the only reason I'm here. We need to get to Margarita."

Geralt frowned, getting serious. "You know where she is?"

"Radovid has her in his cells. That's all I know and have been able to guarantee. She's set to die but I don't know when."

"You know where the cells are? How to get there?"

"I do." At least she thought she did. "But it's definitely a trap. It would be risky going in there." For Triss, for Ciri, even for Geralt. "For all of us. But she's a necessary evil. We need her on our side."

"We'll do it together," the Witcher said. "Your magic, my sword – we should hurry before she's executed. Will Triss help? Why are you alone?"

"Triss said she'd talk to Dijkstra to try and get him to supply us with more help. A day for when she might be executed and if he'd heard anything about Philippa. If she's out there or perhaps imprisoned it'll be good to know what we're stepping into."

Geralt peered at her with an exaggerated doubt. "Dijkstra won't tell her anything unless he thinks it benefits him somehow. I don't think there is anything for him in this. It's a useless affair, and Triss should have known it as good as I do. Are you sure she went to Dijkstra?"

"That's what she said." That foreboding kicked in again, like maybe she'd been keeping something from Yennefer. Was it that maybe she'd decided to go to Ida and Francesca again and tried to play over the Kain thing?

Yen exhaled. "I should go back."

"But you just got here," he protested.

"Aye, sit aroun with us a bit, Yennefer," Zoltan piped in. "Tell us how things are at Novigrad. Just rest before goin back. Our lassie was so glad to see ye."

"Yes, have a talk with Ciri at least before you go," Geralt added.

"I know," she said, slipping a hand onto Geralt's shoulder, surprised even that Zoltan appeared to be so eager for her company, although he happened to be of the few who could actually stand it and not worry that she'd bite. "Radovid's men seem to be everywhere. I didn't feel good about leaving Triss and if anything of what Geralt is saying is to go by, then its possible Triss might be doing something unwise."

"What would she do, you think?" Geralt asked. "Going in there to save Margarita all by herself? She can't be that reckless – it's a suicide, and Triss is anything but suicidal."

"Apparently not." Triss was many things but she wasn't that crazy. "I guess I'll stay for one drink."

Zoltan poured her one and pushed the mug across the table. "There ye go."

Avallac'h shot a disapproving glance and sent another reluctant spoon of the stew into his mouth, barely wishing to chew as if it was made of something partially disgusting.

Ciri returned inside with clean bowls and put them away on one of the shelves before she took her seat again, happy that Yennefer was still here. "Are you staying the night?" she asked hopefully. "Will you sleep next to me?"

Yennefer grabbed the mug Zoltan had pushed her way, thanking him with a nod of her head. "I can't," she said, gently placing her hand over hers. "I only came to update you and check in."

Ciri nodded, disappointed but trying not to show it. "Alright."

"It's good you came," Geralt said, smiling. "We appreciate it."

Ciri's disappointment didn't go unobserved, nor did her earlier comment at the dishes. There was certainly more to that. "That was the plan, wasn't it?" Yennefer raised her mug and took a large sip. "You'll go back to Novigrad with me?"

"No!" Ciri said suddenly, looking between Yennefer and Geralt. "I mean… We're not finished here."

"Umm…" Geralt glanced between Ciri and Yennefer, searching for any excuses. "But you don't even know exactly where that prison is. I have no contacts in Novigrad to tell me that, so our only hope is you and Triss. Once you find out where Margarita is held, I will help get her out. I promise."

Yennefer gave a quick smile. "I know you will."

She took another sip of her mead, polishing it off to half before setting it aside and trying to probe their heads a little. There was a lot going on that she wasn't able to see.

"How's everyone recovering?"

"Doing our best," Ciri said softly. "Lambert left with Keira."

"It's been all right," Geralt said. "Ciri's training, we're just trying to keep busy. Zoltan's taken up cooking."

"If not for me, they'd be famished and gnawing on roots," Zoltan said, pouring himself another drink, then refilling Eskel's.

Yennefer smirked, "I thank you for making such a spectacular point of fattening them up."

Avallac'h stood up, having mustered a half of his stew. "My thanks for the… meal," he said with the slightest bow of his head, then turned and walked away.

_Unfortunate_. Yennefer would have liked to recruit Keira to help them with this problem, she knew Keira didn't like her, but she'd jump on it to save her fellow sorceresses. "Any idea of where they've gone?"

Ciri trailed Avallac'h with her gaze as he left, well aware he was sulking. He had not been happy since it was just the two of them. "No idea where they went. He didn't even say goodbye." Not to her, at least.

"She said she had some business that required a witcher's help," Geralt said. "And Lambert agreed to aid her. They left at dawn after the pyres. They didn't tell us where they went."

Yennefer guess they'd snuck away and decided to lick their wounds. She couldn't blame them, they'd taken quite the beating. She only hoped they were recruiting more hands.

"Guess we'll have to contact them the old fashioned way." She hoped they'd be able to hear when the time came. Unless maybe Keira had decided to recruit Lambert to help with the sorceresses, as well? Did she even know?

"I don't think they're into repeating all of it," Geralt said. "When they went, it looked like quitting the Hunt war. Keira said to me that had she known what would happen, she'd never have come in the first place. I can't blame either of them."

"None of us can," Eskel shook his head.

"There's no quitting." Yennefer knew they'd lost a lot, that Vesemir meant the world to them, but there was no way she was going to lose solid soldiers, people who was strong enough to further help protect Ciri. "We agreed to do this. We all did. We can't go this far – can't leave her unprotected."

"And they did their part," Geralt reasoned. "We cannot demand more than they've given, Yennefer. It's not in our power. Let it go."

"I—" She knew what he was saying was reasonable, that it was far, that they'd lost and they'd survived and had every right to try and go off and start somewhere else to fight another day – another war – but this was Ciri. She might not be as important to Keira, but Yennefer knew Lambert had a spot for the girl, that he was part of the pack that raised her. "What about you Eskel? Zoltan? You'll both be fighting on? What about the boy?"

"I'll be there, ye know it," Zoltan said.

Eskel was fiddling with his mug, grim and frowning. "I don't know what more I can do, Yennefer," he said. "It's just my sword, and they're so much more than any of us were ever prepared to fight for a living. They're fighting with magic, those hounds, and their frost... What can I possibly do about it with my silver? They would've killed me if not for Ciri. And they did kill Coen. And Vesemir."

"No one will ask more of you, Eskel," Geralt said, squeezing his friend's shoulder. "You're right about all of this. We do need magic to defeat them. And I don't want to see you die, too. Neither does Ciri."

"It's all right, mate," Zoltan nodded. "It's all right."

"As for Gwyncath," Geralt said, turning back to Yennefer, "he will decide for himself."

Yennefer freed Zoltan a genuine smile, one that she didn't suppose she wore since the boat and after her conversation with Ciri when she'd come to the conclusion that there was nothing Yen could do about Geralt's head and that she was going to have to roll through it again.

"I understand," she answered. That didn't mean she liked it. She was also disappointed, also scared for Geralt since he was of the same but no longer with more than one pair of eyes on his back.

She could maintain that position, she would, but she also had to provide it to Ciri, and when The Wild Hunt came at them from all sides, it was going to be increasingly hard, especially when their numbers were decreasing so quickly.

They'd been limited before but they were cut in half.

"What about Skellige? Hjalmar?"

"Hjalmar said we could count on him," Geralt said. "Mousesack would also help, as he did. We just need the Lodge if we can get it. If we can afford it, as in repay them properly. Because this is usually the Lodge does business."

Yennefer closed her eyes and breathed a small bout of relief. "The lodge takes some negotiation. Two had already outright refused and two others are missing." As she'd already informed them. "Guess we'll have to see what Triss makes of it. What she's able to accomplish with Dijkstra."

If that was even where she was going.

Yennefer drowned the remainder of her drink, feeling that she needed it, and then carefully gestured for Geralt as she stood from the table. "You mind if we talk? Privately?"

"Not at all," he stood up to follow her.

She waited until they were away from the table and then turned to face him slowly, lowering her voice to make sure that their voices wouldn't carry. "Have you spoken to Ciri about Kain? I only ask because Triss has got it in her head that is special, apparently saw something that he did during the battle and she—wants to negotiate."

Geralt peered at her, utterly confused for a moment. "Negotiate? With whom? What do you mean?"

"The Lodge. At least those that remain. Triss saw Kain do something during the battle that made her think he was really special. Ciri special. That she could perhaps use him as a chip to get Ida and Francesca on board."

A shiver of ice cold ran down his spine. He was shocked, and a huge part of him refused to believe it. "It can't be right. She couldn't be considering it... Maybe you didn't understand her right?"

"I didn't misunderstand her," she stated coolly, unable to control the fact that she was a bit thrown by the fact that he didn't believe her. "This isn't also the first time that she's suggested something like this. You remember what she tried to encourage with Ciri?"

Scowling, he was trying to think it over. "She wouldn't hurt Ciri - she's been risking her own life protecting her, fighting for her.

"Kain, however, is not Ciri. If she thought it was the only way to interest the Lodge..." Geralt peered at her helplessly. "She might want to trick them, but she wouldn't sell him like a trinket. She wouldn't do that."

"I never said she'd hurt her." Yennefer knew for a fact that she wouldn't. Yennefer also knew that when it came to Triss and the way she viewed certain things, when an idea struck her she latched on like a dog and wouldn't let go.

Ciri never would have worked with the Lodge, and Kain had come at a time in need of negotiation.

What more could she say, though?

"You're right. But you think the Lodge will accept that? That she would offer something that she didn't think there was a chance of gaining? You said it yourself; 'Triss isn't suicidal' and the Lodge isn't quick to forgive a betrayal like that."

That's why they were in this position to begin with. If only he remembered that.

"We'll have to talk about it with her, then," he said, his face preoccupied. "What he did was truly outstanding: he somehow managed to scorch an entire unit within a few seconds. And back in the forest... I don't know what kind of magic he used, but it wasn't too far from what mages can do. Ciri said he was trained by druids. I can't judge - I haven't seen too much of druid magic." The Witcher looked at her, conflicted. "Perhaps best not to alarm Ciri about it. She's already worried that Eredin marked him as a target along with her."

"I've already told Triss that it isn't an option and that we aren't going to throw the boy at them like that so that they can fight over his carcass. You know what she's like when she breeds an idea though and when she feels that it's the right thing to do. The Lodge is broken apart and if what we've discovered is true, then, like you Witchers, we're a slow vanishing breed. At least in her eyes. It's what she's been fighting for all her life. Who she's been fighting for."

Yennefer guessed he didn't know that, either, that with her removal from his fate and life a lot had been adapted and changed. She turned back to the table.

"I thought you should know, at least – warn him. If it comes to that."

"They're not gonna get him, just like they're not getting Ciri. He trusted us enough to fight for us, so we can't let him down. He means a lot to Ciri. She won't have any of it."

"Which is why I should probably head back."

She couldn't trust Triss wouldn't turn this around on them and push them into a corner that was going to become even worse than it was. Yennefer had failed them with Ciri before and it was going to happen again.

Yennefer didn't touch him this time, not wanting to invade his space after the look he'd given her, searching the room for Ciri to make sure she hadn't left while they spoke. "I'll say my goodbyes and then be on my way."

Still preoccupied by thoughts of Triss and the Lodge, he nodded absentmindedly. "All right. Thank you for coming and warning me."

_As if he needed to thank me for that_, she thought bitterly. It pulled at her heartstrings as though this was the first time he'd ever heard something like that from her and like they were strangers dealing with this issue together.

It shouldn't hurt but it did – a lot.

Ciri watched Geralt and Yennefer from her seat, unable to hear what they were talking about, and her curiosity growing each time one of them glanced over at her. She imagined this was what children felt when their parents were discussing them, maybe contemplating some sort of punishment for wrongs done, or trying to agree upon who to marry them off to.

But that was not what was happening here. At least not the latter part. Ciri did not think Geralt would ever want to see her married. Or touching a man in general.

And so her curiosity grew. Even as Zoltan tried to distract her with the story of how he'd lost his favorite Gwent card.

Yennefer walked up behind Ciri, leaning over her, enclosing her arms around Ciri's shoulders so that she could hug the girl from behind while she conversed with Zoltan. "I believe I need to go. Care to show me out?"

"Of course," Ciri said, trying to keep the sadness from her voice as she rose to her feet and linked one arm with Yennefer's. "Soon, we won't have to part again," she told Yen as they headed for the front doors.

"Never," Yennefer agreed, although a part of her was unsure of that.

She thought that she and Geralt might have been able to flow forward together, that she was prepared to push through every obstacle and attempt to make it work.

But how? When? What was going to change in the next few weeks?

"Never again." Yennefer patted her hand, gave both Eskel and Zoltan a departing smile, one she supposed measured the fact that one of those faces she wouldn't be seeing until all of this was over. "How've you been feeling?"

"Tired, frustrated, scared," Ciri admitted. "But with pinches of happiness sprinkled in. Geralt and Kain are to thank for the latter. What about you? Things in Novigrad are still ready bad, aren't they?"

"Happiness?" Yennefer repeated. Ciri wasn't going to dissuade the sorceress from that particular topic and the fact that she'd mentioned two names involvement. That was no easy fiat. "Novigrad is at war with itself, within its folds, but it's been coming for a while. You can't stand o neutral ground and not expect a few waves to come in and pick you up."

Ciri had seen firsthand how bad Novigrad had been. It was foolish of me to assume it had changed so quickly.

Yennefer patted her hand once more to let her know Yen didn't want to talk about it and pushed forward.

"How is Kain settling in with Geralt?"

Her question made Ciri's brow furrow in mild confusion. "How do you mean?"

"I mean are they getting along?" They'd been at odds before and after the trial seemed to have reached an understanding with one another. However, he was still here – Kain hadn't left. "Have you spoken to him much?"

"I don't think they have spent much time together at all, but… yes. I'd say Geralt is warming to him. Kain is more complicated. He has been alone for so long, I think he feels uncomfortable with the company of others. But there does not seem to be any animosity between them.

"I have tracked Kain down now and then. Spent some chunks of time with him when I can get around Avallac'h."

"And?" Yennefer asked, keeping her close to her side, gaze probing Ciri's face, trying to gauge if she was willing to talk more of her connection to the boy.

The _boy_, but it was only because he looked young. If he knew Geralt and a lot of other Witchers she hadn't even met — that said a lot about his extensive history. And possible age.

"He doesn't seem to mind your company?"

"Not really. He has been teaching me some magic, some exercises to help me connect with my power." Ciri paused, looking up at her. "Don't tell Avallac'h."

"Why would I ever care to tell that Elf anything?" She hardly liked the man and the fact that Ciri had been stuck with his miserable antics for so long was a bit of a kick in the face. "I am curious though, why do you think he'd object to you and Kain spending time together?"

"The more time I spend with Kain, the less I spend with Avallac'h," Ciri ventured as a guess. "And even if he acts like he has put his old ambitions aside for now, the same way your sorceresses think they have a claim on me, he believes I belong to the Aen Elle. Stolen blood and all that."

"You don't," Yennefer answered without hesitation, immediately annoyed with the Elf for making her believe that nonsense, for anyone trying to poison her mind with that drivel. "You don't belong to anyone but yourself, never let them make you believe otherwise."

The fact that Kain seemed to enforce that in her without her even knowing made Yennefer all the more adamant to make sure that Triss didn't get any ulterior motives.

"I know I don't," Ciri assured her with a small smile. "I belong to you and Geralt. Because I choose it. And not as an object." There was a big difference between them and everyone else.

Yennefer's lips curved into an automatic smile. True. She did belong to us. She always would. They were a family and no one was going to tear that apart – not even Yennefer herself.

"You know, if there's one thing I regret, it's not listening to my heart, or even understanding it's drive, what it was and the doors that it opened for me. I didn't think it possible and those things scared me, seemed so far out of my reach that when it was happening it felt like it shouldn't – that I didn't deserve it. I probably don't. But you do, you're young, you're brave and you're strong, don't let anyone else think for you and don't feel like you owe them either."

"What do you mean you don't deserve it?" Ciri asked, pausing their walk to consider her. "Why would you think such a thing?"

"I've always been hard to love. A destructive force."

However, not even once, not in all the time Yennefer had known Geralt or Ciri had either made her feel like that, which is why she fought so hard for them, why the removal of the link had been important. Magic had changed her life so much, shaped who she was on the outside—and even some of the inside—that it was important for her to know that it wasn't for that reason alone that they were connected.

"At least I felt that way. I don't anymore. It's taken me many years to come to terms with it."

"Hard to love," Ciri mused. "Because you take no crap from anyone? Because you are ruthless and intelligent and so beautiful no one can ever measure up? You are not hard to love. People just expect women to be meek and subservient with no opinions of her own and see anything else as being wrong or unnatural. Because it scares them."

She wrapped an arm around Yen's waist and squeezed her, smiling. "I want to be you when I grow up, Yennefer of Vengerberg. Add some Geralt in there, too, and I would be the perfect specimen."

Her words warmed the sorceress, brought a bout of tears to her eyes because as beautiful as they were, as profound and touching, that was only who Ciri was now, not the horrible beast buried beneath this façade of magic that had been so hard to navigate around as a child.

Even an adolescent.

Yennefer freed up her arm and hugged Ciri tightly against her, peppering kiss after kiss to her head.

"You already are perfection," she said, speaking against Ciri's hair, smiling softly. She inhaled her scent, loosened her hold on the girl a little so that she could look into her eyes. Those beautiful emerald eyes. "I know you probably tire of hearing it at this point. But, 'I love you'."

Ciri couldn't help the slight uncharacteristic giggle when Yennefer began kissing her head, secretly adoring the affectionate attention she was gifting her.

"I never tire of hearing it. Not from you." It was one of the few things that had kept her from giving up during times of trouble – knowing Yennefer and Geralt were out there somewhere, loving her, needing her. "I love you too, Mum."

"Then expect to hear it until I'm hoarse." Yennefer laughed softly, drew Ciri against her chest once more and then stepped back. "Take care of Geralt while I'm gone." Not that he needed the extra pair of eyes. "And yourself."

She touched a hand to her face as if to memorize the change, and then used her other hand to call up the portal for herself.

"I will," Ciri promised, stepping back.

Yennefer waited a beat, studying her features awhile longer, and then stepped through, once again appearing in the _Spearhead_ as though she'd been there the entire time.

The portal faded and darkness ruled once more, highlighting Ciri's sudden loneliness. There had to be a time when they would all be together again, right? A time when they would be a real family where no one had to run away to tend to other things every other day?

What was she even thinking about? It was likely she would be the one to crush those dreams. The White Frost...

Ciri turned to look at the keep, so empty now that Vesemir was no longer here. She reached for his medallion around her neck, examined it cautiously before wandering for the main gate.

* * *

"What's with the grim face?" asked Zoltan when Geralt sat at the table and the Dwarf handed him another refilled mug.

"Yennefer says the Lodge might sniff out about Kain's powers and then decide to claim him same way they tried with Ciri."

"Oh, that's shit," Zoltan resoluted. "How would they know?"

Geralt shrugged, reluctant to frame Triss's name. "There's always a way to find out things. Keira saw it... Many of us saw that."

"Think Keira will tell em?"

He shrugged again, thinking about Triss.

"Damn sorceresses," Zoltan spat. "Except Yennefer, that is."

"And Merigold," Eskel added.

* * *

Ciri arrived at Kain's cave twenty minutes later, having blinked to the lake and walked from there, navigating through the dark in order to find him. It wasn't as hard as it would have been to find anyone else. She felt him. Like a pulsing beacon in the distance calling to her.

A fire was lit and she took her seat close to Kain and the griffin.

Griffin scoffed with surprise at seeing the girl again. Kain looked at her with a mute question, an eyebrow rising.

"There used to be a time when I found solace in the dark and cold at night. It was easier to hide, easier to be left alone. It meant safety. That has changed a little. I no longer relish in absolute solitude." She looked at him, swallowing. "May I stay here tonight?"

"I don't own that place," he said. "You can stay anywhere you wish.

"No training with the Elf?"

"He went to his room to sulk when Yennefer arrived," she told him, adjusting her cloak. "She's left again. Back to Novigrad to try and find, well… free, our allies."

"Free?" he asked with a confused frown.

"Have you been to Novigrad lately?"

"Not for some years."

"Well, the cult of The Eternal Fire rules Novigrad these days. And by their laws, anyone with magic, anyone practicing magic, will be arrested, tormented, and eventually executed. Last I was there I saw three women burned right on the town square. It is a dangerous place for any mage, and many of the Lodge's former members have been captured."

"Isn't it unwise for your magical allies to have even stepped into Novigrad at all to be captured there?"

"Yennefer and Triss?" She nodded. "Yes, that is what I am worried about. But they are quite adamant we need more magical aid. And the sorceresses are the ones to provide it. The ones they have managed to contact already have declined."

Kain nodded, not surprised. "They'll never help without a worthy reward."

"That is their way. As for those imprisoned, I would not put it past Yennefer to make their aid the condition of springing them from prison."

"I wouldn't expect it to be enough for them."

"Their lives?" she arched a brow. "People tend to re-evaluate their past choices and standards when their head is on the block."

"Once they're free, they won't be willing to endanger their lives again for you without anything important you would give in return."

"We'll see," she shrugged. "I would not want to be caught on Yennefer's shit-list. Besides, it is not for me. What The Hunt will do to me pales in comparison to what they will do to the rest of the world."

"While everybody knows their fixation on you, they don't think about any other agendas."

"Meaning?"

"For now they view it as _your_ war because it's you the Hunt wants. No one cares yet about what comes after they get you. So, for now they name their price for saving _you_ \- not the whole world.

"Not everybody lives in the future like you try to."

Ciri thought about that for a moment. "Perhaps. Whatever they demand, I trust Yennefer to handle it. She knows them all painfully well. She will be able to see through any deceit."

"It's not as much about see through their deceit as convincing them to fight for you. And with that Yennefer might not be able to help."

Ciri smiled a little. "Trying to take my hope away, Archer?"

"Hope is a good thing, but expectations - not so much. You can hope. But try not to expect."

"From the Lodge I expect betrayal. Having any of them join us would actually surprise me. But I do hope, against all odds. We need the help we can get."

"Thinking about it now is useless - there are no actual results yet."

"Right. Now is now." It would take a lot of practice before she could start thinking like that effortlessly. "Have you eaten?"

He nodded. "Think we'd be hungry in a forest full of food?"

"Just checking on you," she said, removing her cloak now the warmth of the fire had set in.

He made no response, making himself more comfortable against the griffin. The latter croaked softly and lowered his head on his front paws.

Ciri laid the cloak out beneath her and lay down, hands beneath her head as a makeshift pillow.

It was strange. Out in the wild, in a cave, on a stone floor… She was more comfortable than she had been in her own bed. Because he was here. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes.

Kain observed her smile for a bit, then followed her example and closed his eyes to sleep, as well.

Ciri woke sometime in the night from a bad dream. In her hurry to get to Kain she had, of course, forgotten to take Mousesack's sleeping draught. The dream had not been a visit from Eredin, she knew that much. But whatever it was had left a sour, fear-filled aftertaste that made the prospect of lying back down and closing her eyes seem impossible.

She looked over to watch Kain asleep, his back propped against the griffin who was also out, slow and shallow breathing sounding from their direction.

With some hesitation she got to her feet and crept closer to them, curling up beside Kain with her head in his lap. Right now everything about him screamed safety and comfort and she felt no shame in indulging her current needs.

She fell asleep again before she could contemplate whether or not her actions would be well-received.

Turned out it did not matter. She was the first to wake.

Ciri lifted herself up on her elbows once the sun peered in through the cave entrance, squinting before turning to look at Kain and his griffin. Still fast asleep. He looked so peaceful and innocent in his sleep. Vulnerable even. All concerns and reservations wiped from his face. Beautiful.

She did a double-take when her gaze strayed lower and noticed a considerable bulge beneath his covered crotch. She sat upright and stared for a few moments, cheeks flushing pink as she tried to contemplate what that meant. Was he… having a nice dream?

She felt as though she had interrupted on a private moment and silently scrambled to her feet, snatching her cloak off the cave floor and slipping into the sunlight just outside the cave.

Her retreat from the cave pulled him from the slumber, but he didn't open his eyes just yet. Griffin stirred, but stayed down, giving him a few moments to wake up properly.

There was a strange lingering sensation of some weight that had disappeared from his lap. He didn't recall any dreams, but it didn't really matter.

Kain stretched lazily and rubbed his face, then Griffin began to rise, pushing him to his feet, as well.

It was a brisk, chilly morning despite the bright light of the sun up above. Ciri briefly considered going for a swim in the lake, but didn't want to leave Kain behind without a word.

It probably wouldn't matter much to him considering his loner status, but she decided against it anyway.

Kain followed Griffin outside into the still chilly morning. The sun was well on its way to its zenith. Ciri was looming among the trees a bit away from the cave entrance. He stretched, so did Griffin, and when Kain went in the direction of the lake, Griffin went the opposite way, taking off to look for a deer from the air.

"Going to grab breakfast?" she asked Kain, trailing behind him. "Snatch a rabbit from the bush?"

"I don't snatch."

"Do you lure?"

"Sort of."

He walked slower, listening, picking the direction. It wasn't a long stalk – it never had been around Kaer Morhen. There had always been a lot of hares.

A few were feeding on a meadow on the hill's slope. He crouched, choosing one to focus on, watching it intently. He touched a hand to the ground, merging his power with it and sending it forth. After a few moments, the hare stood up, ears perked, looking around. And then it started toward him, a bit dazed. It walked into his hands, not really seeing him, and, Kain's lips moving subtly, he quickly snapped its neck. Kain looked back to the meadow and focused on another one. It took less time.

Ciri lingered behind him a few steps, watching him intently as he worked. It was magical. Quite literally.

Nature supplies.

"Think I could catch one by blinking?" she asked once he returned to her with two hares in hand. "I have always wondered."

"I don't see why not – no one can see you coming when you do it."

He strolled past her heading for the lake, picking up twigs and branches for the fire as he went.

She stayed behind while he continued, moving silently between the trees to find new prey. It did not take long.

She watched the little creature for a moment before she struck, a green flash as she darted from one spot to another, her hands around the rabbit's neck before it could flee.

She snapped it and felt a sense of pride, of achievement.

When she found Kain again she was carrying two, smiling slightly. "Zoltan will be happy."

"I see, you're freeing me from the provision duty today." He fed more twigs to the fire; it flared brighter with a breath of magic. He took one of the hares and pulled his hunting knife out of the sheath on his belt to skin it, making a quick habitual job of it. The second one followed, then he threw the skins into fire.

"Well, everyone's been of help back at the keep. And you, too. Time I did something to contribute," she said, showing her rabbits again before taking a seat beside him.

He found two sticks with forks on their ends – hidden behind a rock from yesterday – and stuck it into the ground on either sides of the fire, then used the third stick as a skewer for one of the hares.

He sat back a bit, extending a hand toward the fire; it flared up obediently, licking the hare's carcass. Kain flicked his wrist subtly, making the skewer stick turn.

"How did you do that? With the hares?" she asked, resting her arms on her knees.

"Did what?"

"Bring them to you?"

"I used my power to connect to that of the world," he explained. "This world, the earth, the air, everything around you has its own power. Its own magic. You can connect to it to enforce your own. All the living things belong to the world. And it can share when you have a need."

"And through that power you convinced the rabbits to come to you?"

"I dazed them so they didn't… understand."

She nodded, turning her gaze to the sizzling meat over the fire. It was already starting to smell good.

The hare was prepared and Kain took it off the fire, pushed the carcass off the skewer stick onto one of the boulders around. He skewered the other one and put it over the fire.

"You had no more dreams with him?" he asked, turning the meat as it cooked.

Ciri assumed he meant Eredin and shook her head. "Mousesack made me a sleeping draught. Seems to have helped. Either that or Eredin has lost interest in toying with me. Though I am betting on the draught."

"Helpful," he approved, looking back to the meat, turning the makeshift skewer. "You can start on the ready one. If Griffin comes back, he might snatch it."

"Thank you." She reached for the cooked meat and used her dagger to cut a piece, bringing it to her mouth. "What is your favorite food? Do you have a favorite?"

"Druids used to not eat meat, and their cooking was more sophisticated. It tasted really good. But since my being alone, meat works best. I'm not sure about favorites. Maybe I don't have any. Zoltan, however, cooks very good."

"He does," she agreed. "I haven't eaten like that for a long time. When I was at my grandmother's court, they had these tiny little cakes for dessert sometimes. I loved them so much I used to sneak into the kitchens and steal more than my share. My grandmother would spank me so harshly when she caught me," she laughed.

Kain cast a confused gander at her, "Why?"

"Taking something that was meant for everyone and not just me?" She smiled. "I was a greedy little thing."

"You were a child, weren't you? It's not so uncommon for children to be greedy about things they like. Especially when one is a princess."

"And so she had to reprimand me," she shrugged, taking another piece of meat.

Kain took the skewer off the fire and lay it on another rock to cool down. "You still miss her, anyway, don't you."

"Of course. She raised me. Loved me. And she was a good queen." She paused. "A few years ago I found out that Emperor Emhyr, the man who ordered the attack on Cintra which inevitably killed my grandmother, is my father."

"Why did he do that? Didn't he know you were there or… he didn't care?"

"He wanted to expand his empire. And he wanted me captured and brought to him."

"I heard the story of your parents – how they got together. Geralt's part in it. And your connection with Geralt. Partially from Mousesack, and most part is in the open in all those ballads played in most cities.

"But this – about your father attacking your kingdom… I heard your parents died."

"My mother did. Apparently my father had planned to take us away, my mother and I. To fake our deaths some for a political plot to reclaim his family's right to the throne of Nilfgaard.

"My mother suspected something was wrong, so she had me smuggled off their ship before they set sail. When my father found out, they fought and he pushed her over. She drowned. And he, with the aid of a mage named Vilgefortz, faked his death."

Kain winced, taking the knife to his cooked hare, cutting a slice of meat. "So he went on with the plan, then."

"Yes. And he managed to reclaim the throne of Nilfgaard with very few knowing who he truly was. He has been searching for me for ages, but I only met him four or five years after Cintra. I did not know who he was at the time."

He bit into his piece, expecting her to continue, even though he could see the story was still bothering her greatly.

"I did not know him, but I knew what he wanted. The same as everyone," she said, cutting herself another piece. "Geralt told me a week ago he has been ordered to bring me to him, the emperor. I don't know what he wants this time, but it can't be anything good."

There was nothing to say to that. The girl had been a walking prize all her life for everyone except Geralt.

Even though Kain's mother warned him to never alert anyone to his presence - he guessed, to prevent the same thing - his fate had been kinder to him.

Thus far, it had been.

He was silent, so she fell silent, too, focusing on her meal until they had practically gnawed the bones clean.

"I want to go for a quick dip in the lake before I return to the keep," she said eventually. "Will you join me?"

"After preparing the meal, I pretty much have to."

As he threw the hare bones into the fire, Griffin came trotting from the woods, his paws and beak and chest in blood stains. He went to the water, splashing it a bit before dipping his beak to drink.

Kain pulled his boots off and unfastened the buckles on his jacket, shrugging it off.

Griffin shook water off his paws and came to claim his spot at the fire, twirling in a circle before settling down to attend to cleaning his claws and feathers.

Ciri smiled at the display of the griffin as she removed her clothing, purposely leaving her undergarments on because it seemed like too big a step to undress completely in the company of another.

She decided not to put her toes in the water for a test of temperature. It would probably make her change her mind then.

Instead she gritted her teeth and determinedly strode into the water, diving under as soon as she was far out enough.

She gasped as she reached the surface again, the cold enveloping her completely. But there was a kind of joy to that sensation, too.

Kain piled his clothes next to the griffin and went into the water. It was freezing cold, washing over him in a painful, numbing wave when he dove in.

Surfacing, he stilled, focused on his magic and the connection to the lake, and the water around him slowly began to get warmer as the heat from his palms spread.

Ciri pushed her hair back from her face, grinning as she watched Kain repeat her process. He did not seem to enjoy the initial contact with the water either, but he still managed to stay calm and dignified.

Her toes curled beneath her and she could tell if she stayed much longer a cramp would set in. "I used to do this often in Skellige as a child," she breathed. "The children would dare each other to see who could stay in the longest. Think I have lost some of my bravery." Judging by her chattering teeth, anyway.

"You have your magic," he reminded, relaxing in the warmed up water. "Help yourself."

It took her a moment to realize what he meant about that. It was something she would never have considered doing on her own. "Show me?" she asked, swimming closer.

"Your hands - focus your power in them and turn it into heat seeping into the water around you."

She moved to stand and closed her eyes, her hands on either side of her. It was hard to concentrate due to the cold, but at least her every thought was HEAT.

For a long while she wasn't certain if the gradual warmth she felt was residue from his magic or her own, but the water did become more comfortable, making her bend at the knees to sink down again, chin resting on the surface.

He dipped again, surfaced and brushed his hair off his face. Ciri opened her eyes again, watching him, smiling to herself beneath the surface. He was so beautiful. She wondered if he knew. He probably did. She imagined people told him whenever he visited villages and towns. How could they not?

Kain wiped water from his eyes and caught her stare.

"What?"

Before she even thought to answer, a loud screech from the shore had them snap their heads there in alarm.

Griffin was standing in a menacing posture, wings spread, ears flat, paws wide, tail whipping. He screeched again, and a dozen yards from him a black mare reared up neighing. She didn't look scared, but kept her distance.

"No!" Kain yelled, then gave out a screeching sound pulling Griffin's attention.

The beast shot him a glance, surprised, then backed away a little, still screeching for good measure.

"Kelpie!" Ciri exclaimed, straining through the water to get back on shore. When she did, she rushed to her horse, wrapping her arms around her neck to hug her. She was warm and her heart was racing. She had been running.

The mare exhaled loudly, as if breathing a sigh of relief she had finally reached her destination.

Ciri pulled back to look at her, gently cradling her head in her hands. She gave an affectionate nip to Ciri's shoulder, then allowed the girl to rest her forehead against the bridge of her nose. Ciri wept silently.

Kain smiled; the mare made it, after all.

Griffin tipped his head sideways, watching them, croaking softly. Carefully he crept back to his spot and slowly lay back down, never taking his eyes off the two.

Kain came back to the shore, shivering at the cold, and began to dress hastily to warm up.

Ciri stood there for a long time simply basking in the reunion and the feel of Kelpie with her again. It was strange, but a good kind of strange. Brought up memories she would rather not carry with her, and yet she knew the mare was the one who had helped her make it through those awful situations.

When they finally detached, Ciri was shivering from the cold. She moved to gather her clothes and put them back on, skillfully whipping her undergarments off from under her shirt and threw them atop a nearby rock while she redressed.

All the while, she could not contain her smile and once she finished, she was back at Kelpie's side again, checking her over for any potential damages.

The mare was eyeing the griffin curiously, and then Kain, looking as though those wise eyes of hers saw more than Ciri ever could.

Ciri turned to him eventually with a grateful smile. "You made this happen. Thank you."

Kain shrugged, fastening the buckles of his wolf-fur leather set. "I merely directed you. And charged the bracelet. She came because of you."

He was not good with gratitude, so she decided not to push it, instead continuing her examination of the horse's body. She was fine. Better than fine. She looked exactly like she had last time Ciri had seen her. "I should get back. Appease the elf somewhat. Are you still up for some training this afternoon?"

"I don't mind. If there's anything left to teach you, that is." Kain sat down by Griffin's side; the beast calmed considerably. "You're doing quite well on your own."

"Am I?" she asked, genuinely surprised by that. "According to Avallac'h my 'attempts are meagre'."

"Maybe that's why you're here and not there," he jibed, allowing a small brief smile. "The more you hear of how meagre your attempts are, the worse your results get. I'm being honest when I say you're skilled and you learn fast."

"That might be one of the reasons," she admitted with a crooked smile. "I do prefer praise to snark, especially when the latter is not warranted."

"He's still a mentor you chose," Kain remarked. "You have to work with what you have. Unless you choose not to. All in all, it's all up to your decisions. Only yours. Because the power is yours."

"He was different when we were alone," she said. "Less… admonishing. More friendly than an authority figure. I think he is thrown now we've reunited with Geralt and the rest."

"He's all alone among you humans - the race his kin despises. He doesn't know how to be and how to hold himself."

"Zoltan's not human," she pointed out. "But I understand your point."

"Zoltan is one of the family while he is not."

"I don't think he wants to be," she mused, thinking Avallac'h and Kain might have that in common.

She stroked the side of Kelpie's neck before hauling herself atop her, running her fingers through her mane, rabbits dangling from her belt. "I will see you later. Stop by the keep should you feel like it. You are always welcome," she reminded him before urging Kelpie to turn around.

He saluted a farewell to her with a hand and leaned back against the griffin.

* * *

"Where is Zireael?"

Geralt looked up from the sword he had been polishing and regarded the Sage. His face was stony as always, but his eyes were sharp.

"I don't control her movements," he said calmly. "She likes to be alone at times. It helps her."

"She's with him."

Geralt shrugged nonchalantly. "You have to ask her about it. I'm no seer and she tells me no more than she does you."

He smiled a little; a cold smile. "We both know it's not true, Gwynblaidd."

He shrugged again and returned to his sword.

* * *

Being back on Kelpie's back caused a great sense of euphoria. They rode quickly, the mare rushing through the forests and down the roads towards the keep at a breakneck speed that barely seemed to wind her. People had often thought Ciri a witch or demon when riding her, believing she had imbued the animal with dark magic that allowed her to gallop faster than any other horse and jump heights that should not have been manageable.

Just inside the keep, Ciri slid off and led her towards the stables where Roach was eagerly chewing on her morning hay. She found Kelpie some water and a bucket of grains and allowed her to eat while she groomed her, taking her sweet time tending to her needs.

* * *

"Leftovers of Kain's deer today," Zoltan said when Geralt entered the kitchen. "It's marinaded just right, I dare say. Y'all gonna swallow yer tongues." He laughed, skewering the pieces in front of the fire. "How's lassie?"

"The Sage's looking for her. She's not around."

He laughed again. "We're not as exciting to er as we used to be, Geralt. There's one who is, and he ain't aroun, either."

* * *

It was not long after Ciri had returned that Avallac'h found her, looking his grim usual self. Though his eyes widened a tad when he saw the black mare and some of the anger briefly vanished from his face.

"You found her," he remarked.

"She found me," Ciri corrected with a smile. "Thanks to you and Kain." Avllac'h had been the one to piece the bracelet back together, after all.

The light dimmed in the Elf's eyes at the mention of Kain. "You have been with him," he said. It was not a question.

"Yes," she said, unhooking the rabbits from her belt and holding them up for him to see before temporarily hanging them from a hook on the wall. "We hunted together. And then ate."

"And slept together," he sneered.

She blinked, looking at him. He knew. Of course, he knew. He always did. Even when asking questions.

"Next to one another," she corrected again, leaning down to scrape the underside of Kelpie's hooves, removing a piece of gravel that had lodged itself there.

Avallac'h's lip curled as he approached. "And is that all you do, Zireael? Sleep? Or do you let him touch you? Is that why you keep returning to him? Is that what you find worth sacrificing this world for? Sex?" He scoffed. "You humans, unable to control your savage urges."

She straightened and stared at him, momentarily flabbergasted. "That is none of your business. What I choose to do with my body is of no concern to you! Even if I were to shag every man from here to Novigrad, you would have no right to have an opinion on the matter!"

"Oh, but it is my business," he countered, towering over her, both of them glaring daggers at the other. "The Aen Elle have spent far too much time to allow yet another carrier of the Elder Blood to mate with just anyone."

He paused, looking surprised at having said such a thing aloud. He was starting to sound like 'the old' Avallac'h.

Ciri scoffed, threw the brush she had been using aside, and grabbed the rabbits off the wall. She did not bother securing Kelpie. She would not stray far.

"I think you and I should spend some more time apart," she told the Elf coolly. "Because right now I can barely contain the urge to punch you, Avallac'h."

He still followed her as she made her way towards the castle.

* * *

"Nothin at all, then, is it?" Zoltan asked, studying her for a long moment. "Ah, that's a darn shame, Geralt. Not only because Dandelion will be heartbroken over his shite ballads, but... Argh. Sorry arse business, magic is."

He turned back to the frying meat, shifting the skewers slowly.

"It's more frustrating to me, I assure you," Geralt said. "It's like every time she looks at me, she urges me to remember, waiting for confirmations I can't give."

"It's shite," he agreed. "But there could be a way to fix it. Ye never know when it comes to that darn magic."

"If she knew the way, she'd have tried it already."

"Aye, well," he chortled, shooting the Witcher a cunning eye over his shoulder. "Ye truly don remember Yennefer of Vengerberg, mate. She'll find it. That stubborn mage never gives up on things she wants."

Geralt hemmed and drank.

Avallac'h had stopped talking but Ciri could tell if he got her alone again, it would start all over. So she sought the company of Geralt and Zoltan in the kitchen, offering the latter the rabbits with a small smile. "Can they be of use?"

Zoltan turned and spread his arms, laughing heartily: "There she is, our little bird! And bearin gifts!" He took the hares and shook them, assessing.

"Eskel went an hour ago to check his traps," Geralt said, shooting a glance at Avallac'h who stilled at the door observing them with an expression of mild disdain.

"Too slow, Eskel," Zoltan chortled and regarded Ciri with a prideful grin. "Yer a talent, lassie, yer a raw talent. Get yerself some mead while I skin em. And watch the venison, will ye."

Avallac'h hesitated, then turned and left.

Ciri beamed, happy the dwarf appreciated her gift. "I used my power to catch them," she said, relieved to see Avallac'h leave. "And Kelpie's here!"

"Who?" Zoltan glanced confusedly between them.

"Her horse from before," Geralt explained and turned to Ciri with a widening smile. "I'm very happy for you. Is she all right?"

"She's perfect!" Ciri exclaimed, moving to get herself a cup of mead so she could guard the venison like Zoltan asked. "Not a scratch on her. And she runs just like before."

"It's great, Ciri," Geralt said. "Great that she found you. Like magic."

"Magic horse for a magic girl," Zoltan agreed.

"Magic horse for a magic bracelet," Ciri said, holding that particular piece of jewelry up to the light, examining it as she took a sip of her mead. "As much as I love her I am not sure she would stay with me should I no longer have this."

"Maybe she'd be with you, anyway," Geralt said. "You're hard to forget."

"Because I am such a spreader of joy?" she ventured teasingly, drinking heavily from her cup again. "Are you sad Yennefer did not stay longer?"

Zoltan and Geralt exchanged quick glances.

"She couldn't stay any longer," the Witcher said. "We'll see her later in Novigrad."

That was not the answer to her question but Ciri decided not to pry further. Maybe he felt awkward talking about her in front of Zoltan. "Yes."

She turned the venison slowly, pondering silently. Hopefully they would be off to Velen in the next few days. Maybe even tomorrow if she could convince Geralt.

"You talked to Avallac'h?" he asked. "He's been looming around waiting for you."

"Yeah." Her good mood vanished immediately and was replaced with something sour.

What Kain had said earlier stuck with her. About how Avallac'h did not belong. She had wondered if he felt lonely and had felt a touch of guilt, a desire to make him feel more at home.

An urge that had vanished the moment he started to inquire about her sex life. Or lack thereof.

Geralt studied her attentively, reaching for the bottle to refill his mug. "Hasn't gone smoothly, has it?"

"He is… becoming uncomfortably possessive. I don't care for it." Ciri turned the meat again, eyeing it carefully.

"Possessive?" Zoltan piped in, raising a bushy eyebrow over his shoulder, a menace in his eye. "Whatta ye mean?"

"He was unhappy you were away," Geralt said. "He's worried you're not getting your practice."

"Yes, he's unhappy with most of the things I do these days. It doesn't matter," she said with a small smile. "I will handle it."

"He's not getting enough of your time and after our facing the Hunt he might be a bit on the panicking side."

"He can't squeeze more out of eh than she can give, either," Zoltan said. "Magic's a tricky business. Overworkin it's never a good idea."

Ciri snorted. "I don't think that's what he worries about. At least not all of it." A murmur meant mostly for her own ears. She looked to Geralt. "What did he say?"

"Wanted to know where you were. I said he had to ask you himself. He didn't look like he was really wondering, though."

"Ah, lassie," Zoltan sighed. "Pay im no mind. Elves are so stuck in their own morals and rules, they don't bother lettin other people live. They're too old to understand any other race. Just leave im be. He ain't changin."

"No. He usually already has the answers to his questions," she said, turning the venison.

* * *

"I thought it'd be harder to find you."

Kain and the beast turned to Avallac'h with almost identical suspicious expressions. The griffin croaked, his ears pricked up.

"I wasn't hiding," Kain said.

Avallac'h allowed himself to stroll a few steps to them, but stopped a few yards short of their campfire. The griffin's tail was already beating against the ground.

"Zireael." Avallac'h's eyes bore into the boy's face. "What is she doing here with you?"

Kain raised an eyebrow, "She doesn't tell you?"

"I'm asking you."

"She likes to talk," Kain said after a short contemplation. "And ask questions. She's merely curious about someone new. You've nothing to worry about."

Avallac'h wrinkled his nose momentarily. "What do you know about my worries, halfblood?"

Kain smirked subtly; his lips twitched and evened a moment later. He was studying the Sage as though seeing him for the first time. "You deem her a savior of your people and your world. You want her to survive the Hunt and defeat the Frost, possibly laying her life on the line - which you don't mind her doing. And her special blood makes you salivate at possibilities of what her child could be like if bred correctly."

"She told you?" Avallac'h's voice was like cold steel.

"No need," Kain said. "I'm not as wild and ignorant as I look to you."

Avallac'h's face darkened with a gloomy frown. "You touched her?"

Kain scoffed softly, approaching the elf to stand in front of him. "What do you think?"

Avallac'h scowled deeper. "What should I think? That you're a wild thing—"

"I haven't laid a finger on her," Kain said, glaring at the elf. "Not once."

Avallac'h stared at him long and hard. Then he squinted, "Have I seen you before?"

"Certainly not."

"I have an exceptional memory for faces," the elf stated. "I never forget a face."

"Your memory must have slipped, then. Too many faces you're keeping there, it must be ripping along the seams."

Avallac'h was too engulfed to get insulted. He kept staring almost anxiously at the boy who held his gaze and looked conflicted between feeling uneasy and curious.

"Who are you?" Avallac'h asked in a quiet, slow drawl, as if the question wasn't directed at the boy. When he got no response, he threw another one: "Who are your parents?"

"I don't have to answer that," Kain said.

"You have something to hide?"

"Don't we all?"

Avallac'h studied him for another long moment, and then, without any word or emotion, he turned around and strolled away to where he tied his borrowed horse to a tree.

Kain watched him go, perplexed and a bit wary, and then returned to the griffin.

* * *

They had almost finished their lunch when Avallac'h's footfalls marched through the hall and toward the tower's stairs.

"Sounded angry," Zoltan commented, refilling his mug, then Eskel's and Geralt's.

"He's not cozy here," Eskel said. "We can all understand that."

"Maybe we should bring him food," Zoltan mused, drinking. "Not like he eats out there in the wild like the kitten-lad." He looked to Ciri with a question in his mien.

"Feel free," she told Zoltan, smiling slightly but making it clear she had no intention to go up there. At least not alone. That led to awkward conversations.

Zoltan growled into his mug, probably regretting his momentary good intentions. Eskel chuckled and masked it with a gulp of mead.

"He's a big boy, Zoltan," Ciri smiled. "If he is hungry he will find himself something to eat. He was good at providing for me on our travels. You know, if you enjoy roots and leaves."

"Seriously?" Zoltan exclaimed. "No rabbits? No venison? Nothin? Just leaves?"

"Out of the two of us, I'm the hunter. But there were places - worlds - where prey was not easy to come by. So plants had to do. Fairly certain I have gained a tremendous amount of weight since we returned here," she laughed softly.

Zoltan almost spat laughing. "Pfffft, please, lassie! Ye look like a twig! I dunno how to fatten ye up so wind wouldn't carry ye away."

"The wind does carry me away," she teased, whispering. "That's my power."

"Then any extra meat won't burden ye," Zoltan concluded and saluted her with his mead.


	19. Chapter 19

In the early afternoon Geralt and Ciri stepped out into the courtyard to gather some more firewood for the night.

"I think we should leave tomorrow. At dawn," she said now they were out of earshot of Zoltan and Eskel.

"What makes you so sure?" He bent to pick up another dry branch. "You counted the route and the time it would take?"

"I mean, I would like to leave tomorrow. I am getting restless here." Especially with Avallac'h hovering. "And we only have one chance to get Imlerith. I don't want to miss it if we get delayed on the way."

"What will you do with Avallac'h? You keep saying he always knows things about you. Is he reading your mind?"

"When he suspects something, yes, it would seem he does. I don't think he knows. If he did, we'd be able to tell by my being unconscious already," she added under her breath. "I will leave him a note."

"He will love that," Geralt murmured.

"Yes, well, honestly, right now he has it coming. I don't like how he has been treating me lately. We used to be… well, not equals. Not in his eyes. But closer to it than we are now. Now he is like an angry father trying to guard his daughter's virtue."

Geralt stopped walking and looked at her with a serious, scanning gaze. "What did he say to you?"

Ciri hesitated, not wanting to make this worse than it already was. "He… was fearful I had been with Kain. You know, been with him. I told him that was none of his business."

"Why does he think it is his business? And…" the Witcher hesitated, a shadow of brief shame passed through his features, "have you?"

"Geralt!" she threw her hands in the air.

"What? It's me who's supposed to be the protective guardian. Not that I'm particularly good at it – or have ever been – either."

She shot him a glare. "Can we just focus on Avallac'h, please? It's this strange Aen Elle belief that they own me."

"What can you do about it other than beat it out of them? Avallac'h is not keen on listening to what anyone human or partially human has to say on any matter at all."

He picked another branch, then balanced a thick dried log on top of his pile.

"I know. Thus, I will leave a note and think myself generous for doing so."

"And you still believe you need him," Geralt added in a musing tone, strolling further into the forest along the keep's walls.

"I do," she murmured solemnly. Or rather, the world needed him. How was she supposed to stop The White Frost without all his knowledge? "So, what do you say? Tomorrow morning?"

Geralt nodded. "What about Kain? You talked to him? No more 'staying away' mood?"

"Yes, we talked," she admitted, coming to a brief pause when he reminded her of her initial plan. She had forgotten all about keeping her distance. As though the moment she had seen Kain that thought had been washed clean of her mind. "He is ready to go when we do, I think."

Geralt regarded her pensively. "He's not pushing you away, I take it. Was it something you said?"

She contemplated that a moment. "I don't think so. We haven't really talked about it since that day. We haven't talked much at all really. Been preoccupied with other things," she said, picking up a twig and adding it to his armful.

He squinted suspiciously. "Preoccupied with what?"

She looked at him, uncertain why he was peering at her in that manner. "Training," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Training," he repeated, eyeballing her pensively. "And what new has he taught you thus far that Avallac'h couldn't?"

"He is teaching me how to connect with my power. How to not be afraid of it. That it is a natural part of me. And he does not belittle me while he does it," she said, smiling a little dreamily. "He… encourages."

"Strange how he knows better than a Sage what to teach you."

"Perhaps we just connect better than Avallac'h and I do?"

Geralt arched an eyebrow ironically, "Connect?"

"Get along better?" She frowned. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

Geralt shrugged with a small apologetic smile. "I miss the times when you had no secrets or reservations concerning what you could or couldn't tell me."

"I am telling you things," Ciri insisted. "There are just some things I need to work out in my head before I can share it with anyone else."

"We could make sense of whatever you don't understand together," he reasoned. "It's just..." He sighed. "It hurts to think that level of trust is impossible to restore."

"Geralt…" she exclaimed, brow furrowed in concern. "Do you think I don't trust you?"

"Not the same way it used to be when you were a child, and I'm guilty of missing it." He smiled meekly. "I know you're all grown up now and things changed. Too many things. But I haven't seen it. A huge part of me is still there where you were twelve. I didn't get to see how it changed. And it's confusing. More than both you and I like at times."

She smiled a little, eyeing her feet. "There are… things that are not so natural to talk about now I am no longer a child. Woman things," she said with a flush of color to her pale cheeks. "I suppose that is the biggest change. Also, I was alone for so long with no one to confide in other than Kelpie. And then even she disappeared. And so, I haven't been able to tell anyone anything at all. It is hard to change that so suddenly. But don't for a second think that I don't still need you Geralt. Because I do."

"I understand your reservations, Ciri. But you need to know that you can tell me anything at all and always count on my understanding and help. I need you to know that. Always."

"I do," she said, picking up a few more twigs and adding them to the now overwhelming pile in his arms. "Just be patient with me. I am working on it."

"Avallac'h is not about to be patient, though," he remarked, turning to the route back. "You don't explain anything to him, and so he thinks we're all conspiring to keep him shunned and in the dark. If you had a tighter bond with him before your return and now it suddenly changed - he's confused and getting angry, impatient. You'll need to do something about it. Offer him something to calm his suspicions. Before he starts using his magic to spy on your thoughts."

Ciri frowned, pausing in her stride. "What do I have to offer him?"

"Anything you can tell him to put him at ease?"

Ciri considered that a moment. "I don't know. I have no promises to soothe him. Nor do I wish to discuss the matter of me 'mating with a suitable subject'."

Geralt couldn't hold a disdainful grimace. "Is that what he kept telling you? All those years you have been together?"

"No. That one is new," she admitted. "I think he worries I am going to run off with Kain and start a family somewhere."

Geralt scowled. "And he's not good enough for the Elder Blood. A royal lady would never be with a druid rogue."

"They would want a bloodline similar to my own. Someone who has been bred to make the most of the Elder Blood." Ciri paused. "But it doesn't matter what they want. I am never going to give it to them."

Geralt nodded. "They don't own you. You and only you rule your life and make choices. No Aen Elle will ever take that away. I won't let them."

Ciri smiled up at him. "Nor will I. I have decided never to have children at all, actually."

Geralt had to smile, shook his head. "Oh, Ciri... Decisions like that - they tend to come back to be reversed right when you make that statement. I had made a decision to never request the law of surprise. And life made me do it twice. I guess, just to spite me."

Her expression was severe. "I would never willingly bring a child into this world knowing what awaits it."

"Things can change, Ciri. The world does change sometimes. Or the circumstances change."

She wrapped an arm around his waist, amused by the huge pile of wood he was forced to carry while she practically had none. "We will see. I have come to the realization this magic thing might mean I can become very old. So I suppose I have time."

"I prefer to think you have all the time in the world. So try to not make any statements. Just live and see what comes next."

"You sound like Kain," she smiled. "He says I need to start living in 'the now'."

Geralt thought about it, directing his steps toward the keep. "That's something I can agree with. I think."

"I think there are lots of things the two of you would agree on. Perhaps you will get some time to get to know each other better during our upcoming journey." This was said in a subtly innocent tone. No ulterior motives whatsoever.

Geralt hemmed, not really sure he liked the idea.

"So what do you think I should do about Avallac'h?"

"I don't know, Ciri. I don't know him as you do. No one knows better what to do about him than you. He's never let anyone as close as you."

"I haven't really seen this version of him before. He has always been severe and strict but never… cruel. He says cruel things now and tries to intimidate me. And I don't really want to forgive him for that unless he tries to change."

"He pretended to care while all he cares about is your blood. And now he feels his power over you is failing. Out of fear, he says things you aren't ready to hear."

Ciri swallowed and averted her gaze, not liking that if it was the truth. It would make her an idiot. A naive idiot. And it would mean whatever comfort she had felt from Avallac'h's presence was a lie. "Perhaps. Perhaps he has fooled me all along."

"Even if it is so," Geralt said, seeing the shadow on her face, "I'm grateful for his care for you. For keeping you alive."

Ciri forced a smile. "Yes. There is much to be grateful for." She was silent a moment before gesturing for the doors. "Let us get this inside before Zoltan freezes to death."

Zoltan was nowhere near freezing; he and Eskel were busy taking care of Vesemir's stash. The bottle they were working on when the two came back had been waiting for its hour for a few dozen years. They both were laughing.

"I will go tell Kain later," Ciri whispered for Geralt's ears only as they deposited of the kindling. "We will need to leave a message for Zoltan and Eskel as well."

"Do as you planned."

He carried the wood past the drinking duo and deposited it next to the fireplace.

"Hares for dinner," Eskel informed. "The traps weren't empty."

"Don't forget my two!" Ciri demanded, hands on her hips. "I caught them all by myself! I have come a long way since my rat hunting days."

They burst into roars of laughter, refilling their mugs with unsteady hands.

"We will have to catch up, it seems," Geralt told Ciri, tipping her a wink as he sat at the table and Zoltan pushed a mug his way.

"Let's," Ciri said, grinning, blinking over to my seat to claim Eskel's mug, drinking deeply.

Ciri and Geralt caught up with them somewhat under an hour and a couple bottles later. Then Zoltan picked himself off the chair and went to start on the dinner, still telling stories and laughing as he did. Eskel held out a hand as if to put both Ciri and the Witcher at ease, and got up to help Zoltan with the hares. They stayed at the table and refilled our mugs.

The dinner was ready in another forty minutes.

"Ye gonna check on the elf, lassie?" Zoltan asked, setting up the plates around the table.

"Fine," Ciri said, reluctantly getting to her feet. "If I am not back in half an hour, he will have married me off to some elf brat," she murmured, heading for the stairs to Avallac'h's room.

Neither the dwarf, nor Eskel heard the second part, but Geralt did. It put a frown on his face as he took another gulp of wine.

* * *

Ciri did not bother knocking on Avallac'h's door. He never awarded her any privacy.

The elf was seated on his meagre cot, sketching something on a collection of parchment. Several loose sheets lay sprawled on the stone floor around him. It did not take her any time at all to recognize the face there.

Kain.

She frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Pondering," Avallac'h said without looking up from his work.

"Pondering what?"

He didn't answer.

She leaned down and picked up a few of the drawings, examining them. They were good.

"Got a new obsession?"

"Jealous?"

She dropped the papers. "Leave him alone, Avallac'h. I mean it."

"Giving me orders now, Zireael?" he sneered, finally looking up to meet her gaze. "You know that will not work."

Ciri stepped close, meeting his gaze with a cold fury. "Stay. Away."

"I will if you will, me luned. Shall we make a deal?"

She shook her head. "Why are you so worried about him?"

"He is a man. I know what he wants from you. What all men want from you."

"Yes, you would know," she hissed under her breath. "And that's the only reason anyone would want anything to do with me, yes? This cursed blood?"

Avallac'h lowered his gaze to his sketch again, continuing. "And what is between your legs."

Her hand struck out before she could control herself, palm smacking his pale cheek so hard his head turned. She was flushed with heat, furious. "The more I get to know you, Avallac'h, the easier it is for me to understand why Lara left you."

He was on his feet before she could blink, his fingers wrapping around her throat before he pushed her back against the nearest wall. The back of her head smacked against the rock and she groaned.

Avallac'h's pale eyes blazed with indignant anger as he squeezed her, making her gasp for breath.

She had crossed the line this time. But damn it, so had he.

Ciri disappeared in a flash of green.

* * *

She wasn't back soon enough.

She wasn't back when they all had almost finished their meals.

"What's keeping er?" Zoltan asked eventually while refilling her mug.

Geralt merely shrugged his shoulders. Eskel glanced between them and spread his arms momentarily.

"Want me to get her?"

"No, I'll go," Geralt said, getting up.

She wasn't in the tower, but Avallac'h was – and one of his cheeks had a flushed look.

"What happened here?" Geralt asked, scowling. "She went to call you for dinner."

"She got out of hand completely," he said, and for the first time since his stay, his voice barely contained anger. He paced. "All because of that boy. She's rash, reckless, and set on defending something she doesn't even understand or have or can have. If it's you who's encouraging—"

"Encouraging what?" Geralt demanded, his hands balling into fists in an unwitting effort to contain his own rising anger. "Where is she?"

"Where would you think?!" Avallac'h nearly screamed, his eyes blazing at the Witcher. "She used her magic! She uses it all the time now – to run to him!"

"What did you do to her?"

"I?! I did nothing, and she slapped me! For telling her once again to be careful and not spend so much time around the boy she doesn't truly know."

"Is that all you said?"

He scowled as if chewing on lemon. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Geralt realized that if he opened his mouth again and went for that talk, he wouldn't be able to keep it peaceful. His eyes swept over the drawings scattered around the bed, catching the face on them. The same face on each paper.

It wasn't who Geralt would expect to see.

The Witcher turned and left him alone.

"She ain't comin?" Zoltan asked, watching Geralt intently.

"She's not around. Maybe decided to have her dinner elsewhere."

Zoltan laughed. "Youth… whatta ye do…"

* * *

_Kain. Bring me to Kain._

Ciri re-materialized somewhere near the lake, throat hurting and her breath slightly labored as though she had been running.

For a few moments she looked around wildly, almost as though she had been escaping the Hunt itself. And then, she calmed, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths while her gaze sought him out. He was not far away, resting against the griffin. She blinked back tears, put a smile on her face, and approached him.

With his eyes nearly closed, Kain watched the lake surface and the sky reflecting on it, trying to think of nothing and just be still. He had spent too much time trying to figure out the elf and that strange intense face he made studying Kain. As if he truly thought he would remember the halfblood. It was impossible. Kain was certain of it.

Something like an instinct made him turn before he even heard Ciri's footfalls. She wore a smile, but her colors were muddy and at a disarray. The only reason he could imagine was her Aen Elle mentor.

"What's wrong?"

How did he know? How did everyone always know? Was she so transparent?

"What…" She hesitated. "Um, I just came to say that we leave tomorrow. At dawn. Will you be ready?"

He thought about it a moment, regarding her. "All right. I'll have to be ready."

"Good." She nodded. "That's good. Will you… Will you meet us down where the road forks? A little ways from the keep?"

"I can find you," he confirmed. "Or the other way around – you're very good at it."

Her smile was genuine this time. "Yes. At least there is that."

He studied her closely. "At least?"

Ciri shook her head. "Never mind. I am in a funny mood. Tensions running high and all that."

"Tensions," he said, arching an eyebrow ironically.

She didn't know how to explain that. How to explain what had happened or why. It was too complicated at that moment.

She gave a small smile again. "I will see you tomorrow at dawn. I'll try to bring some of Zoltan's bread for our breakfast."

"There are forests and fields on the way – we can get food when we need it." She didn't want to explain her uneasy emotions, and he didn't want to push it. He didn't know what he could say to make it seem any better. It wasn't his place.

"Plenty of chances for that," she said, tilting her head and tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "I thought you said you liked Zoltan's cooking?"

"I do. I merely mean it's all right for you to not take a bag of food with you. Unless it's what you and Geralt prefer to do." Kain gave a small awkward shrug.

"I haven't travelled with him for so long, I actually don't know what he prefers. As for me and Av—" She paused, a sour taste in her mouth. "As for me, I have rarely had extra to bring on my journeys."

"You have Kelpie now to consult on what to bring."

Was it really all she came here to tell him? She surely didn't look like it when she appeared.

Ciri smiled a little. "She prefers grass to grain so I doubt I will have to bring too many rations for her." She sobered a little, looking him over. "Are you alright? You wouldn't have happened to have seen anyone from the keep lately, would you? Today?"

And that was something he didn't want to reveal. There wasn't even much to reveal. Probably nothing she didn't already know.

He squinted inquisitively, "Why, someone was going to visit?"

She shook her head. "No. Not that I know of." Ciri absentmindedly rubbed a hand across her throat. "Probably letting my mind run off with me again. Avallac'h is very angry with me for coming to see you. Remember when he 'captured' you on Skellige? That whole display was for my benefit. All about power. To make me heed his commands. I worry by coming here to you as I do… I worry he will try to make life difficult for you. You will be on your guard, won't you?"

"You shouldn't worry about me, princess," Kain said with a small, short smile. "I can take care of myself. And your elf friend could've done something already if he intended to. I don't think he wants to lose your trust by doing so."

The elf was losing her trust more and more every day, but Ciri decided not to bring that up.

She nodded. "Alright. As long as you are safe."

"You do worry too much," he remarked with a small sneer.

She couldn't bring herself to smile even if she knew what he said was true. But she did not worry without reason. There was always a reason.

She lowered to her haunches and reached for him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her forehead on his shoulder, purely selfish as she subtly inhaled his scent to calm her aching heart. She was trembling ever so slightly and it was not from the cold. "I'm so tired."

She was shivering as if from chill, but the muddy aura said otherwise.

He gently enclosed his arms around her.

"What happened to you?"

Ciri closed her eyes once his arms wrapped around her, almost relaxing then.

"Avallac'h," she whispered. "I can't tell if he is my friend or enemy anymore. The things he says…" She hesitated. "And I don't like the person I am when I am with him. This angry, furious girl. Violent."

"What did he say?"

"He wanted to know whether you and I had..." Her voice fell away for a moment. She was certain his mind could fill in the blanks. "I should have just told him no. The truth. But I hated the entitlement in his voice. As though he had a right to know, as if he has a say in what I choose to do with my body.

"When I told him it was none of his business, he made it clear he would not let centuries of breeding and experimentation go to waste by me mating with someone who was unsuitable in Avallac'h's eyes.

"And later I found him surrounded by sketches. Sketches of your face. When I asked him about it, we started to argue again. He told me no man can be trusted with me, because the only reason anyone would want anything to do with me is my blood and 'what is between my legs'." She swallowed. "I hit him."

Some vaguely familiar strings were being pulled in his head, as if Kain was about to remember something. It was right there - just reach out and grab it.

But he couldn't quite grasp anything solid, only the teasing hints.

"What did he do then?" he asked quietly.

"He grabbed me by the throat and pushed me back against the wall," she said. "And I… I just blinked away. Here. Instinct."

"His reactions to what you're doing are not those of a friend," Kain reasoned in a quiet voice. "None of my mentors, not even at the Cat School behaved like that."

He pondered a moment, then decided to be honest in return.

"He's been here earlier. You're right. He said you're not to be touched, that you're special. I don't blame him for protecting you, even though his reasons might not be all in solely your interest."

Ciri tensed, hating that Avallac'h had been here, that he had talked to Kain about something so personal that had nothing to do with the elf at all.

"And then…" Kain frowned. "He somehow thought he saw me before. He stared as if trying to remember. But I'm sure I haven't seen him before Skellige."

Ciri sat back to watch Kain, brow creased in concern. "Perhaps he has seen you in one of his visions? Sages get those every now and then. Of the future. It is how he knew I would eventually come to the world of Aen Elle. We had never met and he was waiting for me. Had waited for weeks at the other end of the portal.

"Maybe he has seen you in his visions but does not remember?"

"I don't know what he can remember and what visions he could have had. His stare was so intense. I think that feeling threw him off and he left hastily."

"Did he threaten you?"

"No. He just left in silence."

That was a small relief, at least. "I think it is good we leave tomorrow. I need some time away from him."

"You're not telling Geralt about all this? Worried he might do something to Avallac'h?"

"I will tell him. But yes, I am worried about what he will do. He is very protective."

"He wouldn't leave it without repercussions."

Her brow furrowed. "You think I should not tell him?"

"You have to decide that on your own. I have no say in any of it."

"I am asking your advice, Kain. If you were in my shoes, what would you do?"

"I have been in your shoes, doing what I was told, learning magic, learning to be a witcher, and then hiding away where no humans could find out about my powers. And then I found that the only way to be safe is to be on my own, without anyone else's ideas of how to stay safe. Because ultimately every idea that wasn't mine was a form of manipulation. And that meant my life didn't fully belong to me."

She smiled a little. "Because even the people who love you have their own motives? Whether good or bad?" she asked quietly, then nodded. "I understand."

"Because until you start making your own decisions and be responsible for them, you won't learn to trust yourself. You will always depend on those who are trying to protect you."

"I trust my instincts," she said. "I would not be here right now if not for them."

They kept leading her to him but she was not sure she should say that aloud. It might scare him away.

"My instincts led me to Kelpie for the first time as well. There was a man and something told me to follow him. So I did. And he was Kelpie's owner at the time."

Kain peered at her pensively. "What happened to him?"

"Um, he took an arrow in the back and… died."

"And you were around to claim the horse."

"To claim his bracelet," she admitted shiftily. "He did not care about her. He saw horses as disposable creatures. I think he felt the same about women."

He nodded in acknowledgement. Magical bonds always had their ways.

"I wasn't the one who shot him. I feel that's an important point to make," she said. Yes, she was a murderer. But she didn't kill to steal and she did not want Kain thinking she did, either.

Kain smiled a little. "I figured."

She swept her hair out of her face and prepared to stand. "I should get back. Geralt will be worried."

Kain nodded, agreeing.

"Thank you for listening. Not that you had much of a choice." Poor thing couldn't exactly run away.

Ciri got to her feet and brushed some fallen leaves off her knees. "See you both tomorrow then. Be safe."

"Get some rest. You need it."

"I will," she promised and blinked away.

She appeared moments later outside the keep and slowly, reluctantly, made her way into the main hall, praying Avallac'h was not there.

* * *

Eskel left Zoltan and Geralt after their forth bottle ran dry, and they had to entertain themselves with stories and Zoltan's tea.

They turned and gaped as Ciri walked in.

"Lassie!" Zoltan exclaimed, jumping off the chair. "We thought you fled for good. Hungry? I'll get yer rabbits."

"Are you all right?" Geralt asked, scrutinizing her.

"Thank you, Zoltan," she said, managing a smile seeing as the room was void of elves. She sat down next to Geralt and nodded, her voice for his ears only. "Yes. But I am glad we are leaving come dawn."

"He said you slapped him for pointing out how you shouldn't trust someone you don't know so easily."

"There ye go, lassie." Zoltan put her plate and mug on the table. "I'll be right back - gotta have a moment with the nature."

He went for the door.

Her temper immediately flared but she contained herself until Zoltan disappeared outside.

"I slapped him for saying no one will ever want anything to do with me, unless it is for my blood or what's between my legs!" she hissed. "I am done letting people try and convince me that is my only worth."

Geralt's expression turned deadpan as cold fury began to fill his gut. "He said that to you? Out of the blue?"

"After I asked him why he was so worried about Kain, yes." Ciri stabbed at the meat on her plate with her fork, though, in truth, she had lost some of her appetite.

Geralt grinded his teeth, seething. "I'm gonna beat the ancient shit out of that elvish skunk."

Ciri put a hand on Geralt's arm to soothe him. "Just leave it. I will have to handle this myself. Our journey will give me the time to think things over and find out how to approach it all when we reunite with the others."

Geralt considered her, slightly surprised. "If you want to swallow this, I'm not feeling as generous. No one speaks like that about my ward while I live and breathe under the same roof."

"I didn't… swallow," she said with a frown. "He obviously told you of my reaction."

"Now that I know what he told you, I'm not about to swallow it, either."

"And what do you intend to do?" she asked solemnly. "He is not exactly defenseless, Geralt. And beating him into a pulp won't do any of us any good."

"You need to eat," he said, getting up, and strolled to the door and past Zoltan who was walking in.

Ciri sighed, following him with her gaze. She had just made everything ten times worse.

Zoltan caught her poking at her meal and frowned. "Somethin' wrong with yer food, lass?"

She looked up to meet his concerned gaze and shook her head, giving him another small smile. "Of course not. But there's a lot going on up here–" she tapped the side of her head with one finger, "–today. I am simply a little distracted."

"A good hearty meal will help with that," Zoltan insisted as he found his place at the table again.

Dutifully, she ate.

* * *

Avallac'h was where had been earlier - on his bed sketching.

He raised his head with a coldly inquisitive arch of an eyebrow just in time as Geralt came up and socked him one in the jaw.

The elf fell back on the bed, his drawings fluttered around like giant dazed butterflies. Faces, eyes, chins and mouths, silhouettes covered the parchments.

"I bet you know what this is for," Geralt said when he jumped on his feet gaping at the Witcher with heating anger. "If you ever tell my daughter something like that filth again, I'll come with a sword."

"Sometimes you have to tell her harsh things to spare some bigger trouble than her hurt feelings, Gwynblaidd." It was hard for him to control himself, his hands balling into fists, but he tried. "You weren't there with us. You don't know, and your ignorance is your only excuse. I shall not seek another next time."

Geralt set his jaw and left before his knuckles decided to break one of his sharply chiseled cheekbones.

* * *

Ciri ate in silence and Zoltan, seeming to understand she needed it, said nothing either. He simply sat with her until she had finished, then claimed her empty dishes to go wash up.

She left the table and headed outside, needing to check on Kelpie for the night before checking on Geralt.

She was grassing with Roach near the stables, serene and perfect as always. Ciri gave her some cuddles and she nipped at her clothing. Ciri chose to interpret that as affection.

Once Ciri made sure the horses had enough food, water, and warmth for the night, she made her way back, searching for her father and praying she would find he had calmed down.

When Ciri failed to find him, she assumed it meant he did not want to be found. Otherwise he would not hide from her.

She slowly made her way to Vesemir's room, empty of life as it now was. Cold. As a witcher, Vesemir's decorating had been sparse. But she did know he would have quill and paper in one of his chests, which she helped herself to. She did not think he would have minded.

There she wrote the goodbye notes for Zoltan, Eskel, and Avallac'h, explaining where they had gone and that they would catch up with them in Novigrad when they had completed their mission.

When she finished, she tucked the letters into her coat, put everything back where she had found it, and headed outside.

Geralt strolled across the bridge outside the gates, trying to focus on the wind and its chilly touch on his heated face. He hoped for it to cool down his anger, but for now it was doing a poor job.

After a short walk, he returned to the keep and found Zoltan smoking his pipe on the stairs just outside the door.

"Ye all right?" he asked, considering Geralt. The Witcher nodded, so did he. "Good."

Geralt was about to go in when the door opened to let Ciri out.

"There you are," she said, almost bumping into him on her way out. She held the door open for him to allow him inside. "Did you go for a walk?"

"I did."

He walked in past her and went in the direction of the kitchen.

She eyed him as he walked past, unable to read his expression. She followed. "Are you angry with me?"

He turned a look of disbelief to her. "Why would I be angry with you?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Sometimes you are hard to read. Your brooding-face can easily be confused with anger." She paused. "Are you alright?"

"I am."

He picked the pitcher with Zoltan's tea and a mug, poured himself some, and looked at her over his shoulder.

"Are you?"

"Yes. I've had worse." Ciri threw a quick glance around to make sure they were entirely alone. "I spoke to Kain. He will meet us at dawn."

"Fine." Geralt sat at the table and drank the tea.

"Alright." She still could not shake the feeling something was wrong, but she did not know how to pry further. "I suppose I will go upstairs and get some rest."

He nodded, "Sure. Have a good night."

She squinted at him, lingering one moment longer before turning and heading upstairs to her room.

Once there she removed her coat and weapons, lit the candle on her bedside table and reached for the flask containing Mousesack's sleeping draught. She had a sip and lay down. She wasn't so sure she would be able to sleep, but she would try.

Geralt heard her hesitate, then go, her footfalls further and further.

He rubbed his face tiredly, finished his tea, then went to his own room.


	20. Chapter 20

Before the sun rose the next day, Geralt and Ciri snuck out of the keep, found their horses and left.

Ciri had placed the letter for Zoltan and Eskel on the kitchen table where they would usually meet up for breakfast in the mornings. Avallac'h's note she had left on the floor outside of his room. Luckily, none of them had woken early.

After Ciri had saddled Kelpie, she did the same to Coen's horse – Onyx – a black stallion that now was ownerless and would be offered to Kain. She knew he wasn't fond of saddles but thought it best to bring one anyway, just in case. He could toss it off if he did not want it.

Just as the horizon started to lighten, Geralt and Ciri rode down the road from the keep with Onyx in tow. It was not long before they reached our agreed-upon meeting place.

An hour before dawn, Kain strapped on his sword and left the cave. They drank some water from the lake, Kain took a dip to wake up, then the griffin carried him toward the area where they agreed to meet with Ciri.

The two were there ahead of time, but the wait wasn't too long. The griffin was alerted first, his ears pricking up; he began croaking softly watching the riders approach.

Ciri greeted Kain and his griffin with a smile, stalling Kelpie from her trot. "Morning. Will you be travelling by air or do you wish to ride with us?" she asked, gesturing to Onyx behind her.

Kain surveyed the horse. "I don't like saddles. But if I fly, I'm going to be way ahead of you."

Griffin croaked from behind him, attempting to look threatening while he scanned Geralt who he didn't trust. He saw the swords behind the Witcher's back – it never meant good.

"We can lose the saddle, if you prefer? It is up to you." Ciri looked back at Geralt who had yet to say anything and seemed to be in a staring competition with the griffin.

"We can sell the saddle in the next village we get to," Geralt said. "A few coins won't do us harm."

Kain approached the horse so the stallion could see him, held out a hand with his palm turned to him. The animal snorted, bobbing his head, his ears pricking up. The griffin croaked again, curious, spooking the stallion slightly; the horse snorted, shifting on his legs.

Kain held the hand, and eventually Onyx approached, stretched his neck to sniff, then put his nose to the Cat's palm. Kain stroked up Onyx's nose to his forehead, brushing the bangs away. The horse relaxed. Kain closed his eyes, seeking that feeling, the familiar sensation of a connection. The horse's head bobbed up and down again, pulling Kain from the short meditation, and the connection was there.

The Cat reached behind the horse's ears, pulling the bridle off; Onyx readily helped, his teeth gritting when it was out of his mouth. Kain folded it and stuffed into the saddlebag, then hopped on, his fingers resting loosely in the black mane.

"It'll have to do for now," he said, moving him with a touch of his heels.

Griffin screeched and made three leaps before taking off.

The griffin took off before them, but they were not far behind, travelling at a gallop down the road from Kaer Morhen and through the lands of Kaedwen. The first few hours of their journey was spent in silence. When they eventually slowed to a walk to allow the horses a break, Ciri sidled up next to Geralt. "Did you talk to him last night? Avallac'h?"

"I didn't say much, but I hope he understood what I meant to say."

Ciri assumed that meant he had talked with his body parts more than anything. She wasn't any better.

She patted his hand and put some more distance between their horses. "There's a river up ahead. We should let the horses drink."

"We might want to stop for an hour," Kain said from ahead of them where he had been trotting.

Kelpie ran up to Kain's side as if she knew that was what Ciri wanted. "Everything alright?"

He gave her a confused glance. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You want to stop for an hour. Just making sure it was for the horses' sake and that something was not wrong."

She shrugged and urged Kelpie on. She took off at a gallop, her default speed, and they headed for the riverbank.

Once there, Ciri got out of the saddle and loosened her bridle. She'd never needed a bit for Kelpie; she'd never been hard to steer. But Ciri did like having reins to hold onto.

She approached the river and drank deeply. Ciri took advantage of this moment to stretch her legs.

Kain dismounted and went to the river with the horses. While his stallion drank, he pulled the saddle off and carried it back to where they were about to make a camp.

Geralt went to gather wood, and Griffin landed and waited a bit away to hunt. There was a forest nearby.

Ciri stayed with Kelpie a while, stroking her while she drank and watching the mildly bubbling river. She mourned the temporary loss of her powers now they were on the move again, the simple fact that she knew she could not use them for a while to come made her feel sad.

But she had Kelpie. And Geralt. And Kain. She was going to be all right.

Ciri seemed to be engulfed in her thoughts and Kelpie's company, so Kain refrained from disturbing her and went for a hunt.

Griffin ran ahead and headed for the woods while he picked a place a bit higher by the river shore. There were hares, indeed.

When Geralt returned with firewood, Ciri helped him stack and light it. It took longer than usual, the wood damp from the forest ground. But they managed.

She settled down and warmed her hands over the rising fire, smiling a little at Geralt. "This is what I imagined it would be like when I was little. Coming with you on a contract."

Geralt smiled. "We've traveled together before. A long time ago. Not a contract, but still you found yourself adventures."

"I know," she laughed softly. "But this is what I dreamed we'd do when I was grown up. Some sort of father-daughter-witcher-team."

"Maybe one day it will become reality," he mused, peering at her with an affectionate smile. "If you would still want what that little girl dreamed of. Because we all know things change."

"Of course I do," she said without hesitation. "My goal has always been to make it back to you and Yennefer. To be at your sides wherever you go. And if I can put my training to good use while doing so… what more could I want?"

"Your own life," he suggested in a gentle voice. "Your own family. Your own place in the world."

"Can't I have a life of my own and still be close to you?" she asked with a small smile.

"I hope your dreams come true, Ciri," he leaned to her and taking her chin in his hand. "I hope they do. You deserve the best life you could have."

"I hope all our dreams come true," she admitted, leaning into his hand. It was so easy to forget at times that there might not be a 'later' for her. Or for them all if she failed to stop The Frost. But like Kain had told her, it did no good to dwell on something that had not yet happened.

"What would you want to do?" she asked Geralt. "When The Hunt is defeated and you no longer have to search for me. What do you want?"

Geralt laughed softly. "I thought about it a lot when you and I reunited and you were ten. We were heading for Kaer Morhen and you had all your life ahead of you. So excited - both of us were.

"And then I found out the hard way that no plans or dreams you think out for yourself matter in the face of what happens. Your new friend has a good point, Ciri. Living in the now - is that what he told you? It's probably the only right way."

"Probably. But also the most difficult for someone used to expecting the worst." She moved closer to him to lean against his side.

He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her closer. "Perhaps expecting the worst gets us in trouble sometimes."

"And expecting the best leaves us disappointed. So perhaps we should stick to something in the middle."

"No expectations?"

She smiled a little. "Is that even possible?"

"I tried it many times. And it can be achieved - for a while, for a bit… And it is in a way liberating. But expectations always try to fight their way back."

"Yes. That is what they do."

She turned her head to look at him, curious. "Were you doing witcher work when you were my age?"

He nodded. "After the tournament massacre, there was not much left of our schools. So all of us who survived had to do what we were made to do."

"Did you ever get lonely?"

"Of course. But it was something we had to live with. I had it better than some - with Dandelion and other friends I met on the way."

"And women?" she grinned, teasing him with a finger to the side. "I hated that about you when I was little. That women find you so attractive. I thought that meant I would have to battle them all for your attention."

He grinned, watching the fire. "That was impossible. And still is."

"I know that now. As a child it is harder to understand the nuances of different relationships." She turned her head, resting her chin on his shoulder. "How many rabbits do you reckon he will come back with?"

Geralt gave her a surprised look. "I thought you knew him better. So what's your assessment?"

"You think I know how many rabbits he will hunt?" She grinned. "I don't know him that well yet. But if I had to guess I'd say three. If the forest is that generous today."

"Why three? Why not two or five?"

"Three of us. Three rabbits. Not counting the ones the griffin will devour, of course."

He squinted. "What if one is not enough for you?"

"How many rabbits do you think I can eat in one sitting?" she asked, playfully scowling at him.

"From what I remember of your Kaer Morhen days - at least two."

"Lies!" she squealed, feigning outrage. "I just had to eat quickly or else Lambert would scoff it all down."

"Oh, is that so?" he laughed. "It's not Lambert's view of events. Nor Eskel's."

"They're old. Their memory is failing them," she smirked.

Geralt raised his eyebrows, "Am I too old for you, too, now?"

"Mhmm." She gave an affectionate tug on a lock of his hair. "Thinking of trading you in for a younger model."

"Seems like you already have. Not that he should be any younger, given his history, but still."

"He's not a replacement. He's an… addition. Nuances, remember?"

"Since when do I need additions?"

"He's not your addition. He's an addition to my life. At least for now."

"For now..." The Witcher regarded her meditatively. "You don't think he'd want to stay in your life?"

"No," she said honestly. "I think once this is over, this thing with The Hunt, he will go off on his own. Maybe even sooner. He does not owe me anything."

"No one can predict a change of heart. It happens even to the most certain ones."

"Perhaps. But I am trying to keep those expectations low. It will hurt either way but… maybe a little less if I am prepared for him leaving."

"If you want him to stay, you should tell him that. Otherwise he doesn't know what he's losing."

"But he keeps telling me he wants to be alone. If I ask him to stay, is that not selfish?"

Geralt sighed, contemplating it a moment. "He must be scared of loss. Like we all are. Ultimately we're all just scared to lose somebody we grew to need."

"And I can't promise him I won't die. So wouldn't it be cruel of me to ask him to be open to that kind of pain?"

The pain implied in her statement rippled through his chest, casting a shadow on his face. He looked into the fire. "Sadly, we don't always know how to keep ourselves from getting attached."

"I think it is worth the risk. Life: it's pain, it's pleasure. Leave no path untaken. I believe I read that in a book once."

She leaned against him. "But not everyone feels the same."

He hugged her to him. "Time will tell. All that matters is that you always know what you want. The rest will clear out on its own."

"What does it feel like to be with Yennefer now?" she asked softly. "I know you don't remember but...does it feel different than from other women?"

Geralt swallowed, uncomfortable. "She is, indeed, different. I can't really put a finger on how, but there is something special about her. And her commitment to you certainly helps that. But… I still remember nothing of what you all seem to, and I don't know how I can accomplish that. Every time she looks at me, she expects something... something I can't quite give."

"Love?" It was so strange seeing them like this. _Him_. It saddened her a little. For her own sake, but mostly for his and Yennefer's.

"She expects me to be the one she knows. The one who remembers her - us. And every disappointment hurts her anew. I can see that but can't do anything about it."

"I can't blame her. Don't know what I would have done had some magic spell made you forget me."

"I don't blame her, either. I just..." He heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I just hate feeling helpless like that - when there is no way I can help her with it. I didn't choose to forget her, and yet when I look at her, there is some sort of guilt looming. Misplaced, but real."

She squeezed his arm gently. "If I know Yennefer, and I do, she will find a way reverse the effects sooner or later."

He smiled for her sake, but didn't really know how he felt about that. It seemed there had been too many spells and curses and jinxes interfering with his life. It wasn't the right way to live when you had to doubt whether what you saw and felt and knew was real or not.

His smile didn't reach his eyes, Ciri noticed. "Don't you want all the information there is before you make a choice?"

"It's not that I don't want to... I guess I'm just a bit done with magic. It's more of harm than help when it comes to my life."

"I can understand that reluctance," she admitted. "We will work it out either way, magic or no magic."

He placed a kiss on her temple. "I'm just happy no one made me forget you. That wouldn't be a way to live at all."

He turned to see what movement the corner of his eye caught; Kain was strolling to them, two hares in one hand and one in another.

"Would have saved you a lot of trouble," she teased, craning her neck to follow his line of sight to Kain. "Ha! I was right. Should have put some money on it."

She got to her feet, greeting Kain with a smile. "Forest provided as always?"

"It does." Kain held the hares out to her. "There is a village or a small town ahead, down along the river. And after that a long patch of wilderness. Are we avoiding the town or stopping there?"

Ciri took the hares and lowered to the ground next to the fire, preparing to skin and gut them. "I suppose we could try and sell your saddle there? Though we should make it quick. Just in case a certain elf has decided to follow." She looked to the sun. "He would have noticed our absence by now."

"He won't find you unless you let him," Kain said, taking one of the hares, and went for the river, pulling the hunting knife out.

Ciri shrugged. She had not exactly left detailed descriptions of where they were going and the route they would take to get there, but it still would not have surprised her if Avallac'h managed to find them. Sometimes he simply knew things.

She cut open her first hare and removed its innards, hurling them a few feet away where a gathering of birds immediately pecked and ate.

While Kain was working on his hare at the river, throwing the innards to a pack of holes leading into the rats' nests, Geralt joined him with the third hare.

"Thanks for this," he said, indicating the rabbit. "And for your help. I understand it's not an easy change to be around people you barely know."

"I might not know everything about you," Kain said, "but I do sense things, and that doesn't usually fail me."

Geralt gauged him with mild interest. "And what do you sense?"

"That I'm being put where I'm needed, and I have to trust it. Because it's how my life has always been."

Geralt reflected on it, pulling the skin off the hare's carcass. "I guess it's not a bad way to live."

They rinsed the cleaned meat in the river and came back to the campfire together. Geralt picked three branches to use as skewers, and they set them up over the fire.

"Do you think the Crones will be there?" Ciri asked Geralt once they were roasting the meat. "It is a Sabbath in their honor, after all."

"I don't see why not. They feast on people's worship and sacrifices. They would be there to enjoy the full of it."

"In Velen there are three witches," she told Kain, turning her spear. "Old, haggard looking things. But very powerful. They are in league with The Hunt. Last I was there they found me in the swamp, wounded and unconscious. They brought me back to their hut and prepared to eat parts of me before they eventually called Imlerith. I barely managed to escape.

"They will know as soon as we set foot on Bald Mountain. The element of surprise will not be in our favor."

"I know about the Crones," Kain said, turning the skewers. "They help the Hunt because it benefits them. They would help you if it served them better. But Elder Blood can only serve then when you put your power to their service. Or if they consume it to fuel their own."

"They don't have the resources to hunt her down on their own," said Geralt. "So they would use the alliance with the Hunt in hope to snatch their own prize along the way."

"I am sure they would find me as disappointing as Avallac'h does," Ciri murmured. "Though to his credit, Avallac'h never expressed any wish to eat my feet."

Geralt and Kain shot equally disturbed looks her way.

_To his credit, Avallac'h expressed a lot of other wishes_, Geralt thought to himself.

Ciri pulled her rabbit out of the fire to inspect it, deciding it could do with another few minutes, oblivious to the horrified looks on her companions' faces. "Once when I was jumping between worlds I ran into an old man who tried to eat me too," she said casually. "His cellar was practically a slaughterhouse. Lots of cannibals out there, it seems. More than I would have thought."

"It's not as uncommon as people like to think," Geralt commented. "Even in our world."

"Have you come across any?"

"I have. A few."

"Did you kill them?"

"I had to," Geralt said. "They attacked me."

Kain smirked to himself.

"What?" she asked, seeing Kain's reaction.

Kain shook his head a nothing and took his skewer off the fire.

Ciri didn't believe him but didn't push it.

They ate, wrapped up the leftovers, and stuffed it into their saddlebags. "So? Village?"

"Vespaden," Geralt said. "And then we go south along the mountain ridge. Until we reach Daevon."

"Lead the way." She got Kelpie ready and climbed into the saddle again, following Geralt's lead towards Vespaden.

* * *

They reached the center before long and bargained with a blacksmith who could make use of the materials they offered through Kain's saddle. The payment was not much, but it would be enough should they need to stop by an inn sometime during the journey.

And then they were off again.

The nightfall caught them a few miles short of Daevon, and they decided to spend the night in the woods, away from any traveled roads. It was for the safety measures.

"Daevon is a city too close to the formal capital," Geralt said. "We will have to be careful, and perhaps to split up to not alert any unwanted attention."

"Hoods will be our friends," Ciri said, dismounting Kelpie once they'd found a place appropriate to set up camp. "We all have rather… conspicuous hair."

"Nothing can be done about Geralt and his witcher eyes and swords," Kain said, starting the fire, "but we can dye our hair if it helps anything."

Both her hands came to her hair, almost in a protective manner. "Dye our hair?"

"Yes." Her reaction amused him slightly. Geralt was eyeballing him inquisitively. "It's a short-time solution - doesn't hold too long. You wash your hair, and it leaves significantly less color. But for a visit into town it should do. I did it many times while venturing from Brokilon to towns and cities."

"What do you use for a dye?" she asked, somewhat skeptical. Though if it was temporary…

"Certain bark, berries, charcoals. But the bark should be boiled, so I'd need a bowl and water for that."

"So berries then?" She smiled a little, amused by that thought. "Red? Blue? Might be even more conspicuous."

"Of course not. Black-berried honeysuckle, black chokeberry mostly. Just to fixate the color for longer. It won't be red or blue, it will be dark brown, maybe with a reddish shade to it - like that sorceress Merigold."

Ciri smirked at Geralt because the thought of him sporting red hair was simply hilarious. "Alright. I mean… if it will save us trouble it might be worth it."

"It might be worth it for you two," the Witcher agreed. "For me - not so much. Like Kain said, my eyes sell me out, as well as my swords. And many know me as it is. It would be smarter to split up for the towns and cities."

"We can do that as well. Less amusing but we'll manage," she said, removing Kelpie's saddle and bridle for the night.

"If you mean it about the hair, we have to do it now," Kain warned, eyeing her expectantly. "And I'll need you to get us a bowl from Kaer Morhen. It's a safer and quicker bet than having to borrow it from the city ahead."

Ciri watched him as though he had forgotten something important. "I can't do that. They will know we are on the move. Vulnerable."

"Weren't we already vulnerable right after they left? They knew that, too. They would attack when they're ready, and it doesn't matter where you are at that moment."

Geralt frowned thinking, glancing from one to another. "What if you take it from the city – borrow, as you said? How would you do that? They close the gate for the night. They all still do it, no matter what king sits on the throne."

"I'd sneak in, it's not that hard," Kain shrugged. "All right. I guess it's that, then."

"I will come with. Just in case trouble finds you," Ciri said, getting to her feet.

"You better not," Geralt said. "If you go, you might get tempted to use your power. Let him do it alone, if he knows how." He gave Kain a questioning glance as if to make sure he could confirm it.

Kain nodded. "You can help otherwise. Collect the berries – if you know how they look – and the oak bark. Can you do that?"

"We'll manage," Geralt said.

Ciri pursed her lips. "If you're not back in an hour, I will come for you." It was not a suggestion.

"I can't make that promise," Kain said and gave a subtle sneer. "I might need a bit more time."

Ciri shrugged. "You have an hour." She wasn't going to be away from him any longer than she had to. Especially when he could get in trouble.

She turned and headed into the forest to find those damned berries.

They watched her go, then Kain reached for Geralt's shoulder.

"Don't let her do stupid things, I'll be fine."

"Then you better be back in an hour, because Ciri listens to no one. Not even me, anymore." He patted the Cat's shoulder and headed after her.

Griffin croaked glancing after them, then at Kain. Kain gave a soft croak in return, and the beast trotted to him. He knew there was a flight to make.

"Well, this is pointless," Ciri told Geralt in a low voice as they trudged through the forest. "I can barely make out anything in the dark. You pick, I will carry." She grabbed the hem of her shirt and held it out, creating a makeshift bowl for the berries and bark should he find any.

It was rather dark already, so he helped himself to the Cat potion, which illuminated the forest floor for him. The bark was the easiest part. Berries were a higher rank prize, they took the two for a few spins around until they finally found a bush with black chokeberries.

"I hope these will do," Geralt murmured, picking them in bunches into her makeshift basket.

"They will have to," she said, carefully cradling the berries to keep from squashing them. "We don't exactly have a grand selection."

* * *

Kain must have made it within an hour because he found Ciri with Geralt at the campfire when he came back.

He gave her the bowl to free her shirt from the berries and checked the bark.

"It will do," he concluded, and looked at Geralt. "We'll need to find a spring in the woods and do it there. We'll be back soon."

"You better," he said.

Ciri silently breathed a sigh of relief when Kain returned unscathed and got to her feet, pouring the berries and bark into the bowl he'd acquired. She gave Geralt a small smile before following Kain into the woods. "Are we walking blind or can you feel a spring nearby?" she asked, as always fascinated by his powers.

"I can sense the direction. Can't you?"

"No," she said. "I only sense you."

He peered at her, intrigued. "How's that work?"

"It feels like there is a… tether," she attempted, not sure that was the right word. Though it definitely was not wrong. "A cord that stretches the further I move away from you. It allows me to, but it is straining. And so when I want to return it pulls, urgently, trying to get to the state where the cord can be slack and relaxed. Like now."

"That is... alarming," he commented. "To be bound to someone like that. How did it even happen? You didn't know me two weeks ago."

Ciri thought back, silent for a bit as they walked. "I think it came with my second dream," she said eventually. "I dreamed of you before we met and it felt… nice. But I did not sense you then. Otherwise I would have felt you nearby when I ran into your griffin. And I did not know you were going to be at the tailor's that following evening. But then when I dreamt of you in the tower… I got on that boat without truly knowing how to navigate. But I made it there anyway because, well, something pulled me there."

"It was the tower you wanted to see. You said it was the one connected to the White Frost."

"It was. But you were there. And I worried…" She paused for a moment, a little embarrassed. "I worried about your motives for being there."

"What do you mean?"

He slowed down for a moment to catch the direction again, then continued walking, keeping his pace quiet.

"Avallac'h told me that tower holds the power to open a portal directly to the Frost's core. I was worried you were trying to open it." She shrugged. "I did not know you then. I was partially curious of you, who you were, and what you were doing there, and partially felt the need to visit the tower myself. To see it. Feel it."

Kain made no reply, finding his way through the forest. Soon enough they found a small clearing with a bubbling brook.

He collected a bunch of branches around for a small fire and cleared out a patch of the ground next to the water for it.

He poured the berries out of the bowl for now and cut the bark into small pieces on a rock with his hunting knife, then ground them with a rock into something close enough to a powder. It all took a few minutes, which Ciri used to start the fire.

He added a little water to the bark, stirred it with a stick, and suspended it over the fire with magic.

"I'll make it boil faster since we don't have all night."

"So what do we do? Just slather it all over our hair?" she asked, letting hers down from its ties to spill over her shoulders and back. She had considerably more hair than he did.

"Don't worry about the details," he said, letting on a brief amused smile. "It's not my first time."

"But it is mine, so I do worry a little. This better not be some ploy to make me go bald," she teased, the corners of her mouth twitching. "I have enough problems."

"It might make you a bit more inconspicuous," he jibed with an utterly serious mien. "It wouldn't hurt your beauty, either, so think about it." A corner of my mouth twitched in a hint of a smile.

"Oh, really?" she laughed, though secretly pleased and lowering her gaze to conceal the flush of pink to her cheeks. "Fairly certain it would."

The bark was ready; Kain put the bowl down and added berries, then took the rock he used for grinding again. With a bit more water and some charcoal from their little campfire it was coming together nicely.

"Want me to go first, I assume?" he regarded her cunningly. "Or you got braver?"

"I'm not scared," she said, pushing her sleeves up. "Just tell me how."

Instead of telling, he dipped his fingers into the bowl, scooping some of the mass, and began to smooth and rub it into his hair.

She inhaled as if to brace herself and followed his example, bending over at the waist slightly to keep the mixture from dripping onto her clothing. It took some time considering the length of her hair. "Did I get it all?" she asked eventually.

"Not quite, but it's fine. You have me."

He scooped the remaining paste and covered the few places she had missed, then made a makeshift wet bun on top of her head so she could sit straight.

"Have to keep it for a bit. For better effect."

He rinsed his hands in the brook, but they came out stained anyhow.

"Alright." Ciri followed his example again and leaned over to rinse her hands. Even in the semi-darkness her skin looked like it was stained in blood. Luckily, most of it washed away.

"Are the Cats still hunting you?" she asked after a moment. "Do they have a warrant on your head?"

"The few Cats that might be left out there probably have some more important things on their minds, like survival or political matters. Most of them are assassins for hire. They have their hands full."

"Does that mean you are technically no longer on the run?"

"There might be people who remember Brokilon. But it's rather a habit that drives him to live alone and in the woods. It's easier that way."

"But you will no longer have to disguise yourself," she said, gesturing to his hair. "After this, anyway."

"Never say never - one of the first lessons life gives you." He shrugged. "White hair catch attention - unless you're a witcher. Which catches attention all on its own, anyway. I don't like catching attention. It makes people remember you. I was taught to be a shadow."

"Unless you settle down somewhere snowy," she suggested, trying to catch her reflection in the spring under the pale light of the moon. "Then you will blend right in. Like a hare."

"I blend in well when I have to. It takes a bit of skill."

Her attempts to see herself in the water made him smile.

"Not too long now."

He scooped some water with the rinsed bowl and held it over the fire to warm a bit.

"I used to envy Triss' hair. But now I am not so sure I will be able to carry the color like she does," she admitted with a small laugh, eyeing his darkening hair.

"It's just for a day or two," he said, and gestured for her to get closer. "I'll pour water, and you wash it. Ready?"

Ciri shuffled close and leaned her head forward, running her fingers through her hair while he poured the water to get the concoction out. At least to the point it was no longer a greasy mess.

She squeezed the excess water from the lengths of her hair and flipped it back so it could dry and she could help Kain with his own hair. If he needed it.

Kain did better on his own as his habit had it, so he shifted closer to the brook, scooped water with the bowl and poured over his head, rinsing the paste out. When he finished, his hair was dark. It was going to be dark brown in the light of day.

Ciri tilted her head, watching him once he had finished rinsing. "I think I prefer your light hair," she said, reaching out to gently sweep those newly dark locks away from his forehead, smiling a little. "This color suits your eyes, though. Beautiful."

He smirked. "It's dark now, you'll see it as it is after the sun rises."

He bent over the fire, ruffling his hair over the hot air coming off the flames to dry it a little, then rinsed the bowl again and looked a question at her.

"We're going back?"

"I suppose so," she said, purely because she could not think of a good reason to prolong their alone-time. Not beyond _I want to_.

She allowed herself a few more seconds to detangle her wet hair, then wiped her hands on the thighs of her trousers, getting to her feet.

"Oh wait. Almost forgot."

He produced a lemon from his pocket and cut it in two with his knife, giving her a half.

"Squeeze the juice on your hand - it'll wash off the stains. No one needs to know it's not our color."

She stared at the fruit he handed her, bemused. "Where did you get this? Did you rob some poor innkeeper?" she teased, doing as told and coating her hands in the lemon juice.

"A tavern," he said, taking care of his own stained fingers. "They had enough, one less won't matter much."

"No, I don't imagine it will." She rinsed her hands again and stood.

They burned the squeezed lemon halves in the fire, rinsed their hands, and Kain doused the flames before they left.

Geralt was still awake when they came; he was gazing into the fire thinking about something so deeply he barely saw them coming until they were a few feet away. Surprise and keen interest reflected on his face as he assessed their looks.

"That's… unusual," he said. "And if even I hardly recognized you, it should work just fine for the people who don't know it's you. No ballad ever said Cirilla the Cintra Lion Cub had dark hair. None ever will."

She snorted. "And nobody calls me that anymore, thank the Gods."

She went to check on Kelpie, then settled down near the fire.

Griffin came up to the campfire as soon as Kain was back, and the duo settled down in their habitual matter: Kain leaned into his side and closed his eyes to sleep. Soon enough, he did.

Ciri watched Kain drift off with a small smile on her face, eventually pulling Mousesack's sleeping draught from her saddle bags to have a sip. There was not much left. She would have to come up with something else. "Want me to take the first guard-shift?" she asked Geralt.

"No, you need to sleep," he said, and smiled a little gesturing for her saddle. "Get some, and then we'll see. I'm fine to take the first one."

Ciri looked up at the sky, then back at Geralt. "Wake me soon. You need your sleep too."

She drank and put the bottle back in her saddle bags, using them as a pillow as she lay down next to the fire.

Geralt didn't have to wake her because in three hours Kain was up – he relieved the Witcher off duty, and he caught some shuteye.

He slept until the dawn.

Ciri woke when she noticed someone shifting beside her. The sky was already lightening. "Geralt," she groaned, pushing her hair from her face. "You never do what I ask."

Geralt shrugged, rubbing his neck. "Do you always do what you're asked? I thought it was for the best that you slept longer. You haven't had much luck with it."

He got up, stretching, and looked at the forest. There was nowhere else the griffin and Kain could be.

"Does Ermion's potion help? No nightmares?"

"Yes. There's nothing now. Good or bad." She got to her feet and stretched. "I'm gonna go wash," she gestured for the river she and Kain had visited last night and headed that way.

Geralt took a gulp of water from his flask, then saddled Roach and Kelpie to save some time once they returned.

The campfire was crackling anew; he fed more twigs to it and looked up. The clouds were beginning to get heavier. It might rain later.

Ciri headed for the brook and stopped a little further down. She removed her shirt and trousers, cupping water in her hands and splashing it onto herself, washing as thoroughly as possible in the shallow spring.

When Kain came back to the campfire, Geralt was alone.

"I hope she didn't go searching for me," Kain said. "Because I haven't seen her."

"No, you weren't the target this time." Geralt regarded him closely, then nodded. "That color's not bad at all on you. Ciri's a bit lighter, though."

"Yes, a tad on the dark chestnut side. Her own color isn't fully white, so it had that effect."

"It's a good job, though," Geralt approved. "I like it. It's strange, but not bad at all."

The water was cold and the air chill, so Ciri washed quickly. She still enjoyed the ritual of it. In the past she had gone so long without access to water at all, she'd promised herself to always make use of it once it was near.

She jumped around for a bit to shake the water off and then dressed, her pace brisk as she made her way back to camp to get some warmth in her.

Kain had joined Geralt, she saw, and his dark hair a stark contrast to its usual hue. "There's bread and meat in the saddlebags," she said in case either of them were hungry.

"You've been a slowpoke enough for us to have managed that already," Geralt said. "I better get going. There's two miles to Daevon. We split up here."

"Where are we to meet up again?"

"A storm is coming," Geralt pointed at the sky. "We shall meet after it a mile from the city. I trust you'll find me."

Ciri nodded. "I will." Destiny would always lead her to Geralt.

I shrugged back into my jacket and moved to Kelpie's side. "Be safe."

Geralt nodded and went to Roach. They watched him ride off, then put out the campfire and went in the same direction but following a different route. The storm was coming soon, they had to get ahead of it.

Ciri pulled her hood on in case the rain would come sooner than expected. She did not want the color in her hair to run. "Have you been to Velen before?" she asked conversationally as they rode towards Daevon.

"I have, many times."

"What for? What did you do there?"

"Contracts at first, and later I served as a Brokilon spy and went to many places."

"Brokilon has spies?" she asked, surprised. "What for? To make certain no one is going to invade?"

"Yes. They needed to know when and who was preparing a campaign or invasion. That required being among people in the big cities where the rulers sat."

"I don't think I could ever be covert enough to be a spy," she admitted.

Kain simpered. "Once you color your hair, you get a chance."

"Not sure the hair is enough," she grinned, nudging Kelpie onto the dirt road up ahead. One of several that led to town.

"It's not enough, of course. There's also listening, sneaking into places you shouldn't be, talking to useful people."

"You're very well suited for the first two. The latter, however…" she squinted at him, teasing. "You talked to people? Voluntarily?"

Kain scoffed. "I had to."

"Can't imagine you being happy about it."

He cast a gauging gander at her. "You deem me a caveman?"

"No. I deem you a loner. Like you have told me yourself time and time again."

"I am a loner. Doesn't mean I couldn't pretend to be different when I had such task. I didn't enjoy it, but I did it, anyway."

"My point," she said, eyeing the town up ahead.

They barely managed to get through the gate before the clouds overhead got darker and heavier. The first drops were landing under their feet when they enrolled into a tavern for a meal. When they settled at the free table - not too many of such at this hour - it started pouring outside, lightnings flashing, thunder cracking the sky apart.

Ciri was reluctant to lower her hood, but when she noticed it attracted a certain bit of attention, she did anyway. No one's gaze lingered too long.

A serving woman approached their table with a smile and asked if she could bring them something to drink. They ordered water and whatever meal was on the menu that night. She promised to return quickly.

Kain was watching Ciri curiously; she looked almost defensive for a moment until the woman left. He wondered whether it was her hair she briefly forgot having dyed or her scar she could never forget about.

Ciri caught him staring and instantly wiped at her face with a sleeve, assuming she had a spot of dirt on her skin or something of the like. "What?"

He smiled the slightest bit, amused. "Nothing."

"You lie," she reprimanded without any real heat, combing her fingers through her hair, the color so new and unusual.

He squinted curiously. "When you see someone you've never seen before, like that woman who asked you about your order - do you ever forget about the scar?"

Her expression hardened a little and she lowered her gaze. "Never. Nor should I ever."

"But why? Why does it hold such power over your mind while so little over your face?"

"It was a lesson," Ciri said solemnly. "A lesson to teach me never be arrogant. Never underestimate my opponents. It sticks with me always, as it should.

"It used to be all I saw when looking at my reflection. It was a lot worse than it is now. It no longer looks so… horrific. But the feeling remains."

"The scar could go away, but you still will hold it there. The scar is in your mind - that's where you should heal it."

"That's where I need it most. I got it because I was stupid. Because I acted rashly. I was cocky. I don't want to make that mistake again."

His expression softening, he leaned forward a bit as if to confide. "You don't need to carry a scar in your mind to remember where you did wrong to not repeat it again."

She watched him, her brow faintly creased as if in distress. "Perhaps not. There are still plenty of other reminders." Her hand absentmindedly reached for her throat. Sometimes she could still feel the collar that used to chafe there. "But I don't know how to let it go."

"Because it's not in your now and thus it serves nothing to keep clutching at it with your memory. It robs you of your strength.

"Whatever happened to you in the past taught you something about yourself, about what you could or couldn't do, what you could or couldn't bear and why. And then it ended. Now it's not happening, anymore. All that's left is your experience, your lessons. Keep the lessons and what you've learned, but let go of what happened. It has no more power over you."

"Logic seems to have little influence on my emotions," she admitted, sitting back when the woman returned with their water. When she left again, Ciri reached for his hand on the table, watching it as though it would show her the answers she sought. "Have you scars you need to heal?"

He drank some water and peered at her with a confused frown. "The scars I had from battles healed when I did."

"I meant emotionally. Those you cannot see."

"Everybody has those."

That was a relief. Not that he had pain, but that she was not alone in being unable to heal herself overnight. That even those as skilled as Kain still had their struggles.

She released her hold on his hand and had some water.

He added, "Things of the past you can no longer change - therefore you need to find your peace with them."

He nodded a thanks to the woman who brought their meals. She smiled a little and left, enormous hips swaying in her skirts.

"Maybe I will someday," Ciri said. "When I can focus on other things than those who pursue me."

"If you can't find a way to not shut down your life and thoughts in favor of that grim expectancy of a battle, then you're not living. What are you fighting for, then? For life? For peace? You can never give others what you yourself don't have, Ciri."

He took the fork and began to eat.

"I am fighting to prevent mass murder," she said, unenthusiastically prodding at her meal with her own fork. "That is the best I can do for now."

"If it's all you ever think about - you don't live." He shrugged, swallowing the baked potato. "If you don't live - you're already dead. And a dead one cannot fight for anything or anyone."

"Shall I sit back then and let everyone else fight these battles?"

"You need more than other people's interests to fight for. I used to fight for what others believed in and it never made me feel alive. It's easy to lose yourself in it. You have to know what you fight for. If you fight for life and freedom - then find all those in you. Find them inside yourself, because right now you are alive and free."

"I fight to keep people from dying, including those I love and are dear to me. How is that not in my interest?" she asked, still poking at her meal, a wry smile making her mouth twitch. "You say these things as if it comes so easy. Like one can change with a snap of one's fingers. I envy you your inner strength."

"My inner strength as you call it didn't come with a snap, either. Nor am I as strong as you imply. But when it comes to some trouble or bad times, it can make you lose yourself very easily amidst the chaos and fear and emotions that don't help you but rather pull you down under. The deeper you go, the harder it is to get back up. So I try to never let anything pull me down until I'm dead. It's not a snap of my fingers - it's a choice."

"Did the druids teach you that?" she asked curiously.

"Some," he reached for the cup to take a gulp of water. "Not everything can be taught. Some things you discover on your own."

She finally started eating, silently contemplating as she chewed. He made sense. It was just achieving the things he talked about that seemed… daunting. Where to even start? How could she, when the last ten years of her life had been one horror after another, rarely with anything in between? It was stacking up so high and heavy she wondered if she could even shift any of those metaphorical bricks.

He studied her preoccupied expression while finishing his meal, then sipped his water, and added, "The first part of allowing yourself to live is to live in the now, Ciri. If you will try to leave in the now and leave everything else that is not in this now with you out of it, it will get better. You'll learn to think of things other than the Hunt. You need to."

She looked up to meet his gaze. "And if someone I love dies because I let my guard down? Will it be worth it?"

He donned a subtle knowing smile. "You can never prevent a death that has to happen. No matter what you do. And if you can save someone you love - powers that be will give you that chance. You don't have to be obsessing over it to have it happen. You need to let go."

She did not understand how he could have so much faith in a power he could not see or feel. Much like people and their Gods.

But had not Freyja proved herself to her on several occasions just less than a week ago?

Ciri hummed in acknowledgement as if to let him know she took his words to heart. And she did. No matter how overwhelming it all felt.

"You keep postponing life with that Hunt and its upcoming battle. But your life is right now and only now. That after-Hunt hasn't happened. And it might never happen. It doesn't exist. So when will you live?"

"Now," she said around a mouthful of potato, smiling a little because this seemed oddly familiar to a conversation they had had before.

He nodded, "Don't forget that."

The storm outside had only been gaining force, and now thunder roared almost every minute.

"We might need to buy a room and use that storm time to get some sleep," he suggested, casting a glance at the window all misty with rain. "So we could relieve your Wolf of his watch duty next time."

She eyed the storm outside. It was likely Geralt had found a tavern or inn of his own to hole up in until the bad weather passed.

She knew it was a good idea to leave Kaer Morhen early in case of trouble on the way.

She nodded, trying to shovel the rest of her food into her mouth at a rapid rate. "Got enough gold?"

"Yes, I'll take care of it."

He finished his water, got up from the table, and went to arrange it with the keeper. It wasn't costly at all, and they had a room available.

The woman, who was probably the keeper's wife, led him to the second floor.

"We don' give keys anymore," she said. "Some folk steals. Dunno what the chort they need our key for, but we take no chances. Makin keys costs ye, too, and they ain't payin'. Here ye go." She pushed the door and waved a hand inside. "Bed's clean if ye wonderin'."

He nodded and she went back for the stairs. He closed the door and followed.

Ciri was almost done with her meal when he returned.

"Done," he said.

She stood, downing the rest of her water before following Kain upstairs. The room was not big but it was comfortable enough with a big bed and what appeared to be a very old dresser.

She took a seat on the edge of the bed, shrugged off her jacket and flopped down on her back.

"Not too bad as beds go."

"I'm not a judge of beds," Kain said, casting a gander at it on his way to the murky window. The storm was raging, and the sky was still firmly dark. They had at least two or three hours.

"The ones at my grandmother's castle were so soft you could drown in them," she murmured, throwing an arm over her head. "Never felt anything like it since."

He considered her thoughtfully. "You miss it? That life you had back then with your grandmother?"

She thought about that a moment, then turned her head to look at him. "I don't know. I suppose I miss how easy life was. When I did not have lessons I would spend my time playing with the other children at court. We did not really have many worries. And I miss her… Calanthe. Even though my parents were gone she made me feel very loved."

He understood what she felt very well.

"You're still loved," he reminded, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You have Geralt and Yennefer who try very hard to make you feel it. Calanthe might not be with you any longer, but her love never left."

"I know," she smiled. "I am very lucky."

She patted the side of the bed next to her when he sat. "Lay down, Archer. Let us get some rest while the storm still rages."

He looked at the floor, then back to the bed, pondering shortly. Then lay down next to her. It was softer than he was used to. But maybe it wasn't all that bad.

The rain and thunder outside were somewhat lulling. He liked storms.

She closed her eyes when he settled down next to her, as always comforted and warmed by his proximity. It took her no time at all before she drifted off.

He closed his eyes and thought of Griffin. Griffin found himself a cave.

_Good_.

He missed the campfire, too - he grew to like warmth. The thought made Kain smile a little, and then his mind got a bit jumbled as he fell asleep.

* * *

When Ciri next woke, it looked as though the rain had calmed a little.

Kain was still asleep. She watched him serenely for a few minutes before finally getting out of the bed, quietly moving over to the window to have a look at the street below. Not many of the villagers were out. Most of them had probably sought refuge from the storm. Like them.

Her weight shifting pulled him from his slumber, reluctantly. He realized he could go with more. It was still raining outside.

"Want to move out?" he asked without opening his eyes.

"We need to meet up with Geralt," she said softly before looking his way. "It is not all that tempting to leave the comfort and warmth of this room for what is out there but… we cannot dawdle either."

"We still have time, and traveling in the rain is not very productive. At least on horses."

She smiled a little, moving to reclaim her spot on the bed, lying on her side to face him. "Are you tired?"

"Not really. Riding horses in the rain is not my favorite pastime."

"I think that applies to most people," she said, yawning. "Alright. Let us stay for a little while longer."

"While it rains," he murmured.

"And should it rain all afternoon?"

Kain cracked his eyes open to give her a simultaneously cunning and inquiring look.

He didn't answer, so she raised her gaze to him again, catching the look there. "Live in the now?"

He smiled and closed his eyes again.

"Not much room for plans in that life…" she mused.

"You need plans to feel secure?"

"Very much depends on the situation, I'd say. Though most plans tend not to come to fruition anyway."

"Then what's the point of planning further than five minutes? An illusion of control and security? Is that so important?"

"It feels comforting in the moment."

He reflected on it, then creased his lips shortly in a gesture of uncertainty. "Planning never really worked for me in any sense. Not for the future, nor in the moment. I didn't gain that habit."

"My plans of vengeance seem to always work. The rest… not so much."

She turned to look at him again, affectionately brushing his dark locks from his forehead again.

"So strange… You almost look like a completely different person."

His lips twitched in mild amusement. "That was the goal, wasn't it."

"Yes."

She ran her fingers through his hair one last time. It was so soft. She had never really imagined a man's hair being soft. Maybe it was the elf in him.

"Do you know how to use magic to change your appearance?"

Kain grimaced, "It's not easy and breeds problems, for it requires constant self-control to maintain the effect. I know the theory, but never tried to practice."

"How do you think the sorceresses do it? It is rumored most of them has changed their appearance with magic."

"Magic saturates them when they're settled in it. And then magic gradually changes them. It's different than a deliberate spell to change for a limited amount of time."

"So they have no say in the change? Even the physical one?"

"I don't think any of them mind given the changes are beneficial. Look at Yennefer, at Merigold. However, I heard some can't have children, which is an unfortunate change they have no say in, either."

"It is true. Most of them cannot. I think that is Yennefer's biggest regret."

"She has you. It helps somewhat, I imagine."

"She did not have me for long. A year and some change before we got separated. Then another few months some years after that. But yes, I'd like to think she considers me her daughter. I think of her as my mother."

"Having you in her life is a solace to her. It's pretty much obvious."

Ciri smiled at him. "You picked up on that in the short time you and Yen spent together?"

"It's not that hard to notice how she looks at you and Geralt and how she changes when around you two."

She pushed herself onto an elbow, intrigued. "How does she change?"

"She becomes tamer, softer, loving. She's utterly different with others - on guard and cold and calculating. And even more so around Merigold sorceress."

Ciri cleared her throat. "Well, there is some bad history there. A few years back Geralt lost his memory due to some, um, unforeseen magical consequences. And Triss, well aware of his relationship with Yennefer, used his memory loss to her advantage so Geralt would become romantically attached to her instead. It was a whole big mess, I hear."

"Her affection is showing, too. What surprises me is that he forgave it."

"What makes you think he did?"

"When people are in a close proximity of someone who they think wronged them, they emit certain vibes. He didn't."

Ciri thought about that for a moment. "I believe Geralt does not put much weight in the actions of people who have betrayed him. I suppose that is why he forgives easier.

"Those who harm anyone he loves, however, that is a different thing."

"It's honorable to forgive. But it's stupid to disregard certain things that cross certain lines - because those lines can be crossed again."

"I agree. But I think that is something everyone has to learn on their own. Your past experiences plays a huge impact on how easily you trust currently."

"I don't trust easily, and I barely ever have. But yes, there always are a few lessons to teach that."

"If you have hardly had any personal relationships, that makes sense."

"The lessons I'd had didn't inspire for seeking any."

"Exactly. Poor experiences calls for little trust."

With his eyes closed, Kain tried to avoid the thoughts of Brokilon and the Felines that were looming over his mind ready to swoop in.

He did not speak any further and his eyes were closed, so Ciri assumed he was attempting to get some more sleep. She was silent, too, rolling over onto her back and holding her hand up, idly examining the lines and grooves of her palm.

It was silly to worry about Geralt. But still, he was out there all alone. She could not help it.


	21. Chapter 21

_**WRITERS' NOTE:** ~ As our dear constant reader **RedHood001** has pointed out, some of you reading might get confused with direct speech when there are new paragraphs within the same character's speech. _

_Here is how you tell the speaking people apart: the quotation marks are the key. _

_When someone is speaking – look for where the quotation marks close the speech. That means that particular character is done talking._

_According to the punctuation rules English language has, every new paragraph of direct speech done by the same character starts with quotation marks. But only the ending ones show where the speech is over. Watch out for those._

**_Example_**_: _

_/ **" **To indicate the original speaker is still talking," he explained, "the first paragraph is left open: no closing quotation marks are placed._

**_"_**_To indicate that we are still dealing with quoted material rather than the narrator's prose, quotation marks are placed at the beginning of the second paragraph.**"**_

_**"**Oh, I see,**"** she nodded. /_

_Thank you so much for reading our story. It means the world and more to us who enjoys writing it._

_Have a great time and stay safe! Bless your hearts. ~_

* * *

The storm continued well into afternoon and it stopped raining only when people began to prepare for supper.

Kain and Ciri rode out after another meal that they swallowed in haste, worrying about making Geralt wait.

He was waiting for them a mile from the town. He had also used the storm for rest, and they decided to ride through the night to make it to another settlement sooner and rest there.

They travelled south down towards Ban Gleán where Kaedwen bordered on Aedirn. They followed the river and that was good, allowing the horses to stop for a drink when needed and the riders to refill their drinking-skins with frequent intervals.

It was already dawning when they reached their destination. "Same inn this time?" Ciri looked to Geralt. "Or are we splitting up again?"

"Splitting up is a better plan," Geralt said. "Still is. Even though your hair are still dark enough."

"All right," Kain nodded. "Doesn't matter if it's the same inn or not. But if it's the same one, we better arrive at different time."

"Same is better," Ciri said. She liked feeling Geralt close by. Safety in numbers. "You go first." She gestured to her mentor. "You'll draw enough attention. They won't even pay us any mind."

Geralt had to laugh. "I see how it is, young lady. Very well. Hide your griffin while I'm at it."

She grinned, even though she had not meant it in a malicious manner. "I am just being practical." She looked to Kain at the mention of the griffin. "Is he alright? Lonely?"

Kain looked up again and saw the griffin fly down to land.

"He'll be fine," he said. "He knows I haven't abandoned him."

"Good." Ciri followed the griffin's descent with her gaze, a sad thought striking her. "You said his mate was killed. Does he still feel the sorrow of that?"

She had learned much about various creatures and beasts from the witchers, but mostly their strengths and weaknesses. Motives. Their emotional capacities… Not so much.

"He grieved for a long while," he said, stroking the beast's neck when Griffin approached. "But it's been six years, he's adapted."

"Yes, I suppose we have to eventually." She smiled at the creature as he extended his neck for Kain to stroke, then looked over her shoulder at where Geralt had trotted off moments earlier.

"It's how it is," Kain said. "You either lie down and die or get busy living."

"Where is he going to hide while we sleep?"

"He prefers caves where it won't rain. He can find a cave without me. He doesn't depend on me for anything other than company."

"Guess we will just wait then."

And so they did, until they agreed a sufficient amount of time had passed since Geralt left.

Ciri fished some coins out of her bag to add to Kain's so he could get them a room while she made sure the horses got watered and fed at the inn.

Of course, the taverns weren't all the same, but there was something similar in all of them. Like a spirit of an inn.

In this one the keeper didn't give them the key, either. They looked at the room, then went downstairs for a meal.

Geralt was across the room eating his. He barely spared a glance our way.

It was hard and unnatural for Ciri to be in the same room as Geralt and not look at him or sit close by. It felt utterly wrong and she felt a little insulted he seemed to do it with such ease.

Due to the early hour breakfast food was on the menu. She ordered them hard boiled eggs and bread and took a seat opposite Kain.

"Think people still believe us siblings?"

He shrugged. "I don't know what people think. But I guess you and I look more alike with our natural hair."

That was their only physical similarity, in her opinion.

She took a look at whoever else was at the inn this morning. Not many. A few men sitting near the bar counter, seemingly struggling with their balance. They had probably been here a while.

And there was a young woman seated at one of the tables with a man Ciri assumed to be either her husband or father. She looked tired. Maybe they were travelling, as well.

And then, of course, there was Geralt. But she tried not to look too hard at him, even as her heart called out from the other side of the room.

Kain watched her with a mild amusement. "He's still your Geralt. He's merely better at pretending than you are."

"Yes. I don't like it," she said, partially teasing. "I want to see the longing on his face."

She turned to Kain to focus on him instead, smiling when they were served food and water.

Kain took a gulp of water and picked up the fork. "Are you after the elf or the three witches, as well?"

"The elf," she said, cracking her egg and peeling it. "Though I suppose, should the crones be within reach…"

"It's rather ambitious. The Crones are very serious foes, a bit beyond the mortal elves."

"I suppose. Though if they are nearby, it is likely they will attack."

"If provoked," Kain reasoned. "They like to stick to their own business. If they find some benefit in attacking you - they might."

"They did before, so I would not put it past them to do it again. They are not why I am going to Velen. But I will certainly keep an eye out."

"Best to not alert them to any plans or your location." He chewed on the eggs, feeling more inclined to nap than snack.

"I was not planning on alerting anyone to my location. Except Imlerith right before I drive my sword into his cold heart."

Kain took a swallow of water, peering at her. "You believe Geralt will let you fight him alone like that?"

"No. But a girl can dream about slaughtering those who have hurt her, can't she?" She stuffed the rest of her bread into her mouth.

"Slaughtering leads to more slaughtering and rarely brings peace. Maybe it never really does."

"Shall we let him live then?" she asked, feigning consideration. "We could. Of course, I would have to leave this world and spend the rest of my life on the run."

"I didn't say that. But he's not Eredin, either. He's merely one of Eredin's weapons. And until you face Eredin and win, any weapon is replaceable."

"But in order to get to Eredin, we must peel back the layers of his protection. Imlerith is one such layer."

"The Crones are not, though. And they're very vindictive. Aen Elle alone are a serious enough problem to deal with, given our numbers."

Ciri frowned. "Imlerith is not a crone."

"I mean we shouldn't touch the Crones, even if they are there. Better play it safer."

She arched a brow. "And if they try to cut off my feet again?"

"Not if they don't know about your being there."

He finished his meal and washed it down with water.

"They will know the moment we set foot on their land. And we will have to in order to get where we are going."

She rose from the table and gestured upstairs to their purchased room. Kain followed her, thinking about the Crones and ways of 'masking their scent'.

Ciri shrugged off her coat and finally gave into the temptation of removing her boots as well. Even though they had been riding for most of the way, her feet were aching. She sat down on the bed and pulled her legs close, rubbing the soles of her feet through her stockings.

"Did Geralt say a time we should move on?"

Kain closed the door and locked the latch. "He didn't specify anything. We catch some sleep and be on our way."

"Strange how so much sitting can make one so tired," she murmured, laying down.

"Riding and sitting are not the same activity," he smirked, toeing his boots off, and began to undo the buckles on his jacket to shrug it off.

"But it has sitting," she murmured into her pillow, hugging it beneath her head.

He didn't respond, lying down beside her. It felt as if the mattress was too soft and he was sinking into it. He closed his eyes and felt drifting away.

Ciri drifted off to a state of half-sleep as well, instinctively moving closer to Kain for warmth and comfort, fingers gently curling in the front of his shirt. And then, she slept.

* * *

Their last push before the final part of the way was to the Inn at the Crossroads. They had arrived there in the late afternoon a day and a half before the event they were aiming not to miss. They allowed themselves three hours of rest before riding to Lindenvale to rent a boat. They had discussed their options of arriving to the Bald Mountain, and reached the decision of traveling by water. The river and its flowing waters provided just the right natural magic of disguise for them to sneak right up to the Crones' lair.

Geralt rented a boat, they left their mounts at Lindenvale with a good pay for three days, and set out. It was a long journey in itself: they had to pace it carefully without making any stops and switching between each other for the rowing.

They arrived to the Bald Mountain around the late afternoon with about five hours to use for seeking the right path to where they needed to get. Geralt and Kain pulled the boat on the shore and hid it in the bushes.

Geralt looked up at the cliffs of the mountain, catching his breath. "I guess we almost made it, after all," he said, and peered at Ciri. The duo's hair were back to normal white and ashen, and it was hard to not recognize her if she pulled her hood off.

"Almost?" she questioned, looking up at the tall mountain ahead of them.

In the distance she could hear the sounds of a party. The inhabitants of Velen were celebrating the Sabbath, as well.

"Let's go. We still need to find the way to Imlerith. He will not be down here with the humans."

"What is your plan, Ciri?" Geralt asked. "To walk in there openly and stab him in the heart?"

"If that is what it takes." She shrugged, making sure her hood was still covering most of her hair. "It is likely he will be alone. Or surrounded by whores. Avallac'h said he uses these Sabbaths to satisfy his desire for female flesh."

"What it takes is cunning more than open confrontation before you even get to where he is," Kain reasoned. "We can't come as enemies. We should come as travelers, pilgrims for the Sabbath."

"That would be smarter," Geralt agreed. "Let us see how it is and where we can find him."

Ciri gave them both a look. "Well, obviously. I thought you were asking what to do once we find him. I never intended to go in and let everyone know our true intentions, wave my sword around and such."

She gave Geralt a playful nudge with her hip, then set off up the path she assumed lead to the merriments up ahead.

"Avallac'h told you where to find that place?" Geralt asked as they ascended the path. Soon enough there were stony steps instead of slippery soil beneath their boots.

"Of course not. He would never give me information I could actually make use of," she said, climbing the stone steps with a brisk pace.

"Some very interesting relationship you two have," Geralt commented.

She shot him a glare before continuing on her way. When they made it to the top of the slope, they were met with a crossbow pointing their way and two men seemingly arguing about whether or not to shoot them.

"Should I shoot?" the man holding the crossbow asked his friend, the flower wreath on his head quivering ever so slightly.

"No," the other one said. "The white-haired one once served the ladies."

Ciri glanced at Geralt, surprised. "What now?"

"Not now," Kain whispered, touching her hand. The villagers shouldn't suspect anything.

"I have," Geralt nodded. "We came to honor the fest."

"Who's with you?" the younger man with the crossbow asked.

"My friend - also a witcher," he waved a hand to Kain; the Cat pulled his hood off. They noted the hair and his sword. "And my apprentice," Geralt added about Ciri.

"A woman," the crossbow man grimaced in doubt.

"We're from the Cat School," Kain said, pulling his medallion from under his shirt. "Females are a rightful part of it."

The crossbow man exchanged a glance with the older one, and upon getting a nod of confirmation from the latter lowered the weapon.

"There are fires lit and feast prepared," the older man said. "Will you join us?"

Geralt smiled subtly, "Of course."

For a moment Ciri found it hard to let go of those stunned thoughts that rose within her mind at the villager's suggestion and later, Geralt's confirmation, he had "served" those filthy, murderous Crones of the bog. What did that mean? What had he done? What had they made him do?

Her brow deeply furrowed, she barely registered Kain and Geralt's lies about them all being from the Cat School and that they had come to pay tribute. And yet, as aggravating as it was to play this game, she did not argue.

They sat down on wooden benches around the campfire, Ciri nestled between Geralt and Kain as though they worried she would suddenly try to launch herself up the mountain.

"Ye haven't come expectin' to be chosen, have ye?" the younger man with the wreath of flowers asked, his expression taunting.

"Don't be silly," the other said, chiding his friend softly. "Only young'uns are chosen to go up the mountain to see the ladies."

"Ah," she said, unable to help herself. "And do these young ones ever return?" Or did the Crones devour them then and there, leaving their parents and family to believe their children had gained some sort of divine blessing? That they lived with the Gods now?

"Of course they return, all happy and radiant," the older man said. "But they never stay in Velen - all eager to see the wide world."

"How do they get to the Ladies?" Geralt asked.

"The gate is closed," the crossbow man said, still looking displeased. "No one gets through."

"Only three young'uns can pass through the gate," the older man said. "If they are chosen."

"Chosen by whom?" Kain asked. The two villagers considered him.

"You wanna be the Chosen one?" the older man asked. Kain nodded. "You should go to the tent and stand before Thecla. She is the one who decides who goes through the gate."

They rose from their seats, though part of Ciri was eager to know why this Thecla had been given the job of choosing those who were allowed to approach the crones. She supposed she would find out.

She gave the two men a curt nod and continued up the slope, past a few houses and workshops, with Kain and Geralt in tow.

When she came to a sudden halt, Ciri pointed at two small creatures merrily whispering and chatting together. "Look… there are the children."

"No, they're godlings," Geralt specified. "I know them, Johnny and Sarah."

One of the godlings went away while the trio approached, and another one turned to regard them.

"Oh hey, White One," the creature said, his round yellow eyes studying them sharply. "You're back. I see you found your lass!" His gaze flicked from Ciri to Kain, and his thin lips creased in a simper. "I see where she snuck away from you. Can't blame her, yer old."

The godling's comment about her sneaking away made Ciri briefly shoot a glance Kain's way, because what the little creature was insinuating made the back of her neck feel abruptly hot.

Geralt chortled into his fist. "Nice to see you, too, Johnny. How are you?"

"Nice," the godling said. "Very good. Health is perfect, voice is honey. And Sarah makes it all even better! So I thank you for sending her my way."

"Happy to help," Geralt said.

"Why you here?" Johnny canted his head sideways.

"We need to get to the summit."

Johnny's eyes got bigger like saucers. "Why would you want that? It's impossible. Better turn back."

"We can't, Johnny. We need to get in. Can you help?"

Johnny scratched his head. "I know how stubborn you are, won't even try to talk you out of it. Is your lass as stubborn as you are?"

"Even more so," Ciri promised.

He sighed and scratched his head. "Path up the mountain starts t'other side of the gate. You'll need the key. Old Thecla only gives it to those she deems worthy of the ladies' presence. The young and beautiful."

"She's young," the female godling said from the short distance she was hovering, looking to Ciri and then Kain. "And him."

"But he's not!" Johnny gestured to Geralt.

Ciri bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking.

"It's different for witchers when it comes to judging age and youth," Kain said. "Geralt is not the oldest amongst witchers. Not yet and not for a while."

Johnny shrugged. "Tis for Thecla to decide. She is old and wise. Blind as your bum but she sees beyond what eyes see. She shall judge. Good luck to ye witchers."

"Thank you, Johnny. And Sarah." Geralt bowed his head ever so slightly.

"See ya," Johnny nodded. "Sometime, I hope."

Sarah laughed and waved her hand.

Geralt led the way toward where they said the tent was; the youth followed.

They found the woman named Thecla in a large tent after they'd crossed a bridge, alone except for the younger woman who'd been sweeping outside when they arrived.

They stepped inside and though Thecla's eyes clearly no longer worked, she sensed them approaching.

"Hm… who's that?" she called and before any of them could answer, she added, "Well, c'mon, come closer, girl."

Ciri stiffened ever so slightly, taken aback, but hesitated only a moment before stepping close to the old woman. Her hair was short and brittle, missing in places, and her face seemed to carry signs of having been damaged, either by an injury or perhaps foul weather.

"Aye. What's she like?" Thecla asked, and from behind Ciri the younger woman joined them. She looked Ciri over with a critical gaze.

"Narrow hips, sparkly eyes – a strikin', feisty lass."

As far as descriptions went, Ciri supposed that was not the worst.

"Never had a man?" Thecla asked, and once more Ciri stiffened, her mouth falling open. Once more, Ciri was unable to say anything before she continued. "Never mind," she sniffed. "Got me answer."

Ciri's cheeks flushed pink and she dared a look at Geralt and Kain on the other side of the tent, hoping they had both somehow missed this part of the conversation, though she could tell by Geralt's expression that was not so.

"I choose you, girl. This night you shall see the Ladies."

Kain felt the bristly vibes wafting off Geralt at the old woman's assessment of Ciri. The Witcher cast half a glance at him, as if unwittingly, but then narrowed his eyes at the women next to his ward.

"Ciri?" he raised his eyebrows in a mute continuation of the question.

"Of course, I will go," Ciri smiled. "That is why we came." I turned to the older woman again. "What of my companions?"

Geralt stepped forward; the old woman hemmed pensively and turned her blank face with unseeing eyes to her female assistant.

"Let's see what else has the cat dragged in, hmm?"

The assistant surveyed Geralt, her upper lip curling upward subtly. "It's grey and far from youth, and his eyes are like a viper's."

"Aye," the old woman drawled, and drew a deep breath through her nose, sniffing the air. "It stinks of clotted blood and corpses. It's old and infertile. I reject ye. What of the third?"

The assistant's eyes seized Kain up. "White hair like the old one, but young and pretty. Like the lass's brother."

The old woman sniffed the air again, making Kain's stomach churn lightly. A cunning little sneer curved her wrinkled lips. "Aye… young, fertile, full of spirit. Nay… not her brother. Ye don't want him as a brother, do ye, lass?" She laughed softly. "It fits. Ye can come with her."

Ciri narrowed her eyes at the old hag when she spoke of her intentions for Kain, but did not try to object. What would be the point? Ciri'd only offend her.

"Geralt should come with us," Kain said. "We come as three. We ascend as three."

"You misjudged me," Geralt added. "I'm worthy as anyone."

"Hmm…" The old woman frowned, pondering, then her head snapped toward Ciri. "Girl?"

Ciri gestured to Geralt. "He's sprier than any youth and only smells of corpses because he slays monsters. And he'll kill any who stand in his way."

Thecla took on a contemplative expression. "Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps there is life in 'im yet?"

She lifted her face towards Geralt. "By ancient rite, you may appeal my choice. But to do so you must best the challenge."

"What challenge?" Geralt asked.

"Ye must descend into a cave and bathe in waters below the earth," the younger woman said.

"The waters there are deep and murky," the old one added.

"I accept the challenge," Geralt said.

"Very well," the old one nodded and got up from her chair with effort. "Follow us."

Ciri frowned, she and Kain following behind the rest as they left the tent.

"That's not a challenge," Ciri whispered to the half-elf.

A point that was made clear once they reached the wooden scaffolding over a cliff. The waters below were indeed dark and murky.

"Look this over – a coin from days of yore," Thecla told Geralt. "Falka burns on its reverse, so they call it the Defier's Oren."

Ciri stiffened and shared a brief look with her mentor. _Falka_. What significance did that have?

Thecla pulled a coin from her skirts and held it out for Geralt to see. Then she dropped it into the water.

"Now bring me the coin," she said, sneering.

Kain didn't like it any more than Ciri did, but Geralt saw it for what it was: the only way being offered. He wasn't giving up on it.

The Witcher unbuckled his armor, pulled off his boots, left them next to his swords, then dove head-first into the pool beneath. The waters closed over him as if having swallowed him.

Ciri jerked next to Kain as if ready to jump after him; he grabbed her arm to keep her from it.

"It's all right," he whispered. "Let him handle it."

It took Geralt a long while – long enough to make Kain doubt his own words – but then the Witcher finally breached the surface and swam toward the lower steep rocks on the side of the pool to get out. A minute later, he was before them, cold water dripping off his figure. He picked up his clothes, began to put them on.

"Wasn't too hard," he said and tipped a wink at Ciri while buckling up his jerkin.

Kain's fingers around her wrist was the only thing keeping Ciri from jumping after her father. But his touch soothed her ever so slightly and she managed to contain herself until Geralt returned.

She gave him a relieved smile and watched as Thecla approached him for the coin. She took it and sniffed.

"It reeks of sludge," the old woman commented.

"Nothing I can do about that," Geralt said. "So is that enough for you to keep your word?"

"I always do, my boy," the old woman said. "Show that coin to the gatekeeper beyond the threshold. He'll know the meaning of it. Marica will open the door for ye. Now go."

The old woman left the tent, and her assistant gestured for them to follow. They did.

They went back down the trail they had come but before they could reach the houses, they slinked off to the left and up towards the mountain. Before long, they were faced with a large set of double doors carved into the rock wall. Marica stuck the key in and twisted.

The doors opened and revealed a wide tunnel leading further into the mountain. When Marica turned and headed back, Geralt, Kain, and Ciri slipped inside and started walking. After less than two minutes they dropped down from a ledge and into a cavernous space illuminated by torches, a loud booming voice echoing through the walls.

They all came to a sudden halt once they saw it. Some type of… beast? Demon? Monster? Ciri could not rightly say. He was large and round, blood-red in color except for a few black stripes, with horns on his head and cloven feet.

He eyed them, Ciri in particular, and then he spoke. "Hm. What's your name, girl?"

"What's yours?" she countered immediately, not too eager to give him any kind of relevant information.

The beast grunted. "Your name don't matter. Atop the peak you'll lose it and get another. You may go."

He turned towards Geralt and Kain. "And you?"

"My name doesn't matter," Kain said. "Thecla let me pass, and so shall you."

The creature threw its head back, laughing. "Feisty's nice," he approved. "Always nice for 'em to break. You may go." His yellow eyes flicked to Geralt, gauging.

"I passed the trial," Geralt said, producing the coin, and flipped it through the air toward the creature. "She said you'll know it."

"Hmm," the creature frowned. "A Defier's Oren. A death sentence." He slipped off the stoop he was sitting on, his hooves clanked loudly against the rocky floor.

Geralt sighed pulling his sword out almost lazily. His eyes reflected knowing. He wasn't surprised.

But Ciri was. She'd believed the old bitch.

Another name to add to my list, she thought, gritting her teeth pulling her sword as well, taking a few steps back as the red giant advanced.

He went for Geralt first, swiping his huge paws at the witcher as though he was a furious cat. Geralt managed to dodge, so the brute came for Ciri instead. Her sword was poised and ready but became useless as he hurled a ball of fire her way.

Her eyes widened ever so slightly just before she rolled out of the fire's trajectory.

The creature kept his eyes on Ciri, for she had her sword out, but his main target was Geralt, and it was the Witcher who had to roll away from his frequent fire attacks. It had to be a fair fight, but the old woman had deceives them in the best traditions of old and dark fairy tales, so Kain had almost no reservations when he pulled his own sword out to join Geralt's line of defense.

Even though the horned creature was heavy and didn't look particularly agile, he managed to keep them all occupied with dodging and parrying. He got a few deep cuts from Geralt and Kain, a slice or two from Ciri, but it didn't slow him down much.

Not until he opened his mouth to breathe fire at Geralt and they ventured to roll away in opposite directions while sliding our blades across his significant belly.

The cuts were deep enough for his entrails to push from the gash; a foul stench saturated his slowed moves. He growled in fury, preparing to sweep Geralt off his feet, but Geralt's sword was already buried deep in the demon-like being's chest.

The creature's yellow eyes widened, he opened his mouth to belch fire in Geralt's face when Kain slid his blade through his neck. The horned head fell off and bounced a little, then stopped on its side. The yellow eyes rolled, his tongue fell out between his parted lips like a dead slug. His headless body slumped and went down heavily when Geralt yanked his sword free.

A sense of relief washed over Ciri when the creature's head thumped to the floor and she had to admit, watching Kain slay the beast in defense of her loved one made her feel something else, as well. A tingling, fluttering sensation she decided not to dwell too long on.

"Consider that our warm-up?" she breathed, sheathing her sword and taking a step closer to them all to examine the beast more carefully. "What is that creature?" she asked Geralt, assuming he would know. "Some kind of demon?"

"It's a sylvan," Geralt said, sheathing his sword. "A rather big one, at that. They're impish like fairies, can be either neutral to you or a foe. Depends on each sylvan individually."

"We go to the Crones next?" Kain asked. "They probably already know we're coming. They will be prepared."

Geralt nodded. "Even so, Imlerith is a more serious foe. I'll head for him, and you two take the Crones."

"Isn't it smarter to stick together? You don't know what really awaits you here on every turn. Might be not what you expect."

"There is no way I am letting you go face Imlerith on your own," Ciri argued angrily, stepping toe to toe with Geralt so he could see how serious she was about this. "The Crones are not our priority."

"If they're in cahoots with the elves, we can't leave them unattended," Kain reasoned. "Not when they know about us."

Geralt gestured to him, "That's right. I'll find Imlerith, and you'll join me when you're ready."

Ciri rounded on Kain, arms crossed over her chest and a look of disbelief on her face. "We should not touch the Crones, even if they are there. Better play it safe. That is what you told me not three days ago when we discussed this. Why have you suddenly changed your mind?"

"If we could sneak in unnoticed, we wouldn't need to," Kain responded. "But now that I know how things are here, it's obvious what course of action benefits them most: siding with Imlerith and handing you over. If we don't find them first, they send more servants your way."

Something Ciri had known all along and had attempted to point out to him earlier.

She sighed, deciding further arguing on this topic would do no good. "Fine," she said eventually, looking between the two of them. "But if you die," she pointed to Geralt here, "I will never forgive you. You hear me, old man?"

Geralt scowled at her with fake reprimand, "That hurt."

"I can take Imlerith while you two deal with the Crones," Kain suggested with a light shrug. "I'll kill him."

"I know you will," Geralt said. "But it's a bit personal for me."

Geralt's scowl etched onto Ciri's face like a mirror image, only hers was not feigned as she regarded Kain. He talked about The Hunt as though they were nothing. Mere flies to be swatted away. She did not like how he and everyone else continued to underestimate them.

If that is what they believed, what did they think about Ciri who had been running from them for so long? That she was weak? Incapable of protecting herself? A princess?

That hurt.

"Let's go," she said, gesturing for the ledge the giant beast had been occupying once they entered the cave. "Avallac'h believed they would be beneath the giant oak tree so we will need to go further underground. As for Imlerith… I am not sure. But if he is not in these caves writhing with whores like a nest of snakes, I say the top of the mountain is a good place to start."

Geralt and Kain exchanged quick glances, and Kain followed Ciri while the witcher went for another tunnel that would lead up to the path for the mountain top.

"You're mad," Kain stated, following a little behind her. "Don't be. They'll use it against you in the fight."

"I'm not!" she argued, coming off a little more vehemently than she had intended.

She took a breath, climbing onto the top of another ridge before she admitted, "I'm just tired of everyone else having to fight my battles for me. For once, I'd like to be of some use."

Kain grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him.

"You're a witcher in the making, you're royal blood, ancient and powerful magic so mighty you could save this whole world. You are not just of _some_ use - you're a hero, Ciri. Do you understand? You've been through what others couldn't survive. And you're here. You've been fighting alone for a long time, but now you're not alone, anymore. You have to let your family help you. It's all it is - his love for you. Not because you're too weak. Just because he wants to protect you. Because all this time before he couldn't."

He let go of her arm, searching her eyes for understanding.

If he had looked very, very closely he might have seen her lips begin to tremble. His words evoked some kind of feeling in her, a feeling that made her want to weep into his chest. A mingled mess of sorrow and appreciation.

"Then why do I feel like I am a child again?" she whispered, her gaze intently on his. "Why do I feel that way in his company, their company?"

"Because you were robbed of that life, of the time with them that would allow you to grow and them to see you grow. It's that time that became a gap between you and them. It takes time to adjust, and you've been trying to do that, but it's been all battles and no calm."

Ciri inhaled and nodded, somewhat soothed. She took his hand in hers and led him further into the cave, releasing him once they had to descend off a ledge and down onto the rock below.

She could hear running water now, almost like the sound of a waterfall or rapid river. It was not long before they found the source. A large opening in the floor where water poured down in generous amounts.

"I suppose that is our path," she said, adjusting the weapon on her back so it would not dislodge. "Ready?"

"Yes."

He squeezed her hand in his lightly and they stepped off the edge.

The flight was short; they hit the water. It was a deep pool of cold water that didn't look murky, but there was no bottom in sight.

They swam toward a small arch of a tunnel and climbed onto the rocky floor.

The roots snaked down the walls of the stony corridor and coiled from the ceiling like tentacles ready to catch the prey.

Up ahead there was light in a red hue. They crept that way, taking care to be as quiet as possible.

The roots eventually gave way to a large open space. The floor was covered in bloodied water, a crimson red, and severed body parts floated here and there like macabre ducks.

Around a grand witches' cauldron were three naked, beautiful, young women. They were speaking amongst themselves, too low to catch their exact words. But their voices were easily recognizable. The Crones. In their more flattering forms.

The one stirring the cauldron poured some of its contents out into the water, and the roots surrounding them came to life, embracing and caressing the witch like an old lover.

"Ugh," Ciri murmured before sharing a look with Kain, leaping down behind them and landing nimbly on her feet.

The trio turned immediately and, upon seeing her, shed their current good looks, taking on their natural form: old and saggy, with skin like decomposing corpses.

"Welcome, Child of The Elder Blood," the one with a cloth covering her face said.

Her one eyed sister continued, "We knew you would return."

And the morbidly fat one immediately joined in, "Your taste lingers on our tongue."

Ciri tried not to gag and pulled her sword. "Enough talk." Nothing they had to say would interest her.

Kain took a moment before following Ciri down and focused inside of him gathering strength. He couldn't draw from the earth directly - not around here where every bit of rock and soil was soaked with their own magic. It would poison him rather than help.

"Oooh," the Weavess with one eye cooed when he joined Ciri. "You brought a friend! Very good, very good. Guests should always come bearing gifts." She cackled.

"He looks very delicious," the fat Brewess remarked. "Such a nice offering for our Sabbath that we could even let you go, little girl."

"Mmm, can't wait," the Whispess added rubbing her hands.

"I'm not going anywhere," Ciri said, watching Kain out of the corner of her eye before focusing on the Crones again. "And I don't share."

She lunged for the one nearest her, Brewess, and sliced her sword across her belly. Like with their previous opponent upstairs, that was not enough to bring her down. Even if a fine mist of blood showered the air in her wake.

The three sisters shrieked and all flew into action.

"Naughty, naughty girl!" one of them chided, but Ciri paid no heed to whom, too busy dancing and twirling out of their reach whenever they made attacks of their own, and diving back in to deliver cuts to their deceivingly frail-looking bodies.

As soon as Ciri attacked, Brewess produced a vial with some elixir – with such a quick movement Kain barely noticed it before she puffed something into Ciri's face. It looked like a powder of black and silver, and Ciri staggered back shaking her head. Her movements became sluggish, her head hung like she dozed off for a moment.

He yanked her back before Weavess had her claws in the girl's hair, his sword stabbing her belly between the two thin child-like legs that looked awfully, sickeningly misplaced. She cackled and dispersed into a bunch of croaking crows flying around oozing black smoke as they did.

Ciri landed back on her ass, water splashing around her waking her up. Brewess didn't move much, being the least agile from the trio, but Whispess was aiming to get to Ciri. Kain put himself between them while Ciri recovered, but as soon as Whispess began her dance around them, his head felt simultaneously tight and woozy. Voices filled his mind, whispering, laughing, chortling, disorienting. She was each voice, and she was everywhere, all around and inside his head. She was good at parrying, but when he sliced his blade across her back, her screech busted inside his skull eliciting a cry from him. It was so loud it was blinding; blood was flushing dangerously in his ears as if he burst a vessel.

The scream was ear-piercing. Ciri though for a moment her eardrums had exploded.

But she was further away from Whispess than Kain, and managed to get to her feet, rushing at the old hag's back and tackling her into the water.

Ciri had her sword ready to pierce her head but she vanished beneath the girl before she could act, leaving Ciri straddling nothing but water.

Water, which soon became of a boiling temperature when Brewess stomped her foot and uttered a chant. Ciri gasped and rolled towards her, slicing at her fat ankles, making her stagger and curse.

Ciri was on her feet again before the Crone could recover, and drove her sword through her back, taking the time to cut up towards the heart. She spat and gurgled, falling to her knees.

"Naughty girl must be punished!"

Ciri did not know which of the other two uttered the cry. She only saw a red blur charging for her before something hard and heavy knocked her over.

The noise in Kain's head drowned in a shriek, and through a pulsating veil, he saw Whispess lunch herself at Ciri who had brought the fat sister on her knees.

His sword went through the Weavess's chest, and once again it was like he cut through air – the crows flew around croaking and screeching. Through the black cloud of feathers and smoke, he rushed for the Whispess and skewered her through the back.

She shrieked, bursting a ball of agony inside his head, and released Ciri's shoulder; the cuts from her claws turned red on Ciri's jacket.

Brewess wasn't giving up just yet. She had managed to get back on her elephant feet and whirled, knocking Ciri off hers with a fat arm hitting the girl in the back.

Kain yanked the sword he had buried in Whispess upward, cutting through her dense body, making her emit another horrid shriek that would make one's ears bleed; with another hand, he pulled his hunting knife from the sheath on his belt and threw it at Brewess. It stuck in the side of her head; her immense body staggered and began to slump down.

Whispess cried out; so did Kain, his knees giving way while he lost his balance in a wave of torment drowning his head.

His vision turned murky with dark red spots pulsing and dancing around while she screamed and the crows of her sister kept screeching; but Kain saw that shape of blood-hungry energy, he sensed it, and he gnashed his teeth and struck.

His sword went through Whispess's neck, and her scream turned into a gurgle.

Ciri ached all over from having been batted around like a cat-toy by the three sisters, but nothing too important had been damaged yet.

The shriek made the walls tremble, and once more Ciri feared for her ears. But Kain had the Crone. He _got_ her.

Ciri rushed at Weavess, the only one still standing, while she was preoccupied watching her sisters fall to their deaths.

Like with Brewess before, Ciri drove her sword through her back, aiming for her heart. The Crone crumbled to the water with a feeble whimper and lay still.

Breathing hard, Ciri approached her, step by step, tentative. She nudged the body with her boot. The body did not move. It was limp. Dead.

Wincing while the headache reluctantly eased its clutches on his temples, Kain rinsed his sword in the reddish water, washing the black blood of the crones from the silver blade. Fighting headache, he tried to focus and look around. It wasn't easy, the fight and their tricks took a lot out of him. Everything around them was still very much soaked in their magic. A murky red shine still lingered around the last crone's corpse.

"Watch out!" Kain cried when Ciri turned away from her, but he was too late.

The Crone was on her feet, her knotted hand clutching Ciri's neck as the other ripped Vesemir's medallion off her chest.

"Naughty, naughty girrrrrl," the Crone growled. "You shall pay dearly!" She threw Ciri across the cave; the girl hit the cauldron and went down with it overturned.

Within an instant, Weavess was before Kain in a whirling cloud of black smoke and feathers and screeching crows. She pushed him against the stony wall, hitting the back of his head so hard he saw red sparks dance around her disgusting face like falling stars.

"It's you!" she yelled. "If not for you we'd be feasting upon her sweet, sweet flesh already! But it's you! YOUR FAULT! NAAAAAUGHTY!"

She cut the medallion sharp edge under his collarbone and licked the blood off it.

"Ooooh," she cooed, the smell of decay and death hitting him with a nauseating breath. "Elder Blood! Sweet child," her claws sunk into his neck, her fingers squeezing. She was like a solid rock keeping him pinned to the wall. Kain couldn't move a finger, and her stench was suffocating him along with her vice-like grip. "My sweet, sweet child…" she whispered. "I take thee as a tribute… and you bring them back to meeeee…"

* * *

Ciri was flying and the sudden landing was highly unpleasant. She toppled over with the cauldron, its contents soaking her along with the water that reached her knees.

She spat and swept severed limbs aside, her gaze set on the bitch and her hold on Kain.

Something brewed inside her, something dangerous and uncomfortably hot. Ciri's face twisted in an expression of pure fury as she reached out towards the Crone. It did not matter that the distance between them was too wide for her to touch the Crone. She did not need to. A power from inside the girl grasped her, wrenched her hands off Kain and hurled her across the cave to land in the water with a splash.

The Crone quickly got to her feet again, Vesemir's medallion dangling from one hand, the other at her sneering mouth as though she was savoring something.

"Naughty children," she hissed, looking from one to another.

Ciri snarled and reached for Swallow in the water, hurling the sword her way with a feral cry.

Weavess dispersed into a murder of crows just before Ciri's weapon could find its target and all of her, each and every bird, flew up and away, through a hole in the ceiling.

She was gone.

Kain coughed, clutching at the wall not to sink down into water when the witch was off him. He watched the crows ascend and fly out of the hole like some overgrown black moths. His medallion stopped humming eventually, signaling that she was gone.

"I should've gone for Imlerith," he said, only partially joking. He rubbed his neck, trying to get rid of the lingering sensation of her hand on his skin. The scratch beneath his collarbone stung and oozed blood.

"You and me both," Ciri breathed, staggering to her feet and wading through the filthy water to reclaim her sword. "Are you alright?"

"I guess so."

He approached the two dead Crones and was disgusted to find their bodies had begun to disintegrate, as if now that their magic was gone there was nothing to hold their flesh together.

He looked up at the hole in the ceiling, assessing the height. "Think you can get us up there with your power?" he turned to Ciri. "Geralt might need our help."

She nodded and found his hand with her own, her mind solely on Geralt as she transported them away in a wake of emerald light.


	22. Chapter 22

They appeared on the narrow path on the steep slope of the Bald Mountain leading to the top. They ran all the way up and froze at the clearing staring at the battle going on.

The elvish warrior was a giant next to Geralt, but the Witcher fared well holding his ground. Imlerith's armor was covered in frozen mist like a diamond powder, frost covering the dark metal sparkled as the giant moved around swinging his club over his head while Geralt dodged and parried as if he danced.

Yrden gleamed in violet shining on the ground where Geralt tried to block the warrior's magic, but it didn't work all that well, for Imlerith knew where to avoid stepping. One of Geralt's arms was bloodied, every move was pain.

Imlerith swung his club at Geralt, making him stagger back and lose his balance for an instant – an instant enough to aim another swing.

Kain threw a hand up, and his club slipped out of his grip and rolled across the ground. Imlerith's attention wavered to it for a second, and Geralt used his chance to stab his sword through the elf's midsection, crying out from his own pain as he yanked the blade up to cut through his ribcage.

Imlerith, however, emitted a loud growl and slammed his fists down on the sword between Geralt and himself, breaking the blade with a ringing clang. He grabbed the Witcher by the throat and rushed toward the edge, making Ciri cry out.

Kain wrapped an arm around her waist stopping her while Imlerith's attention was engulfed by Geralt.

"Who taught you to fight like this?" he growled into the Witcher's face.

Geralt grimaced in pain, but his eyes shone with fury. "The witcher you slew," he spat, raising his hand, and a stream of fire blared into the black knight's face.

Imlerith screamed, staggering back, his fingers slipped from Geralt's neck as he tried to rip his red-hot helm off. When he did, his skin was red and bleeding, steaming and charred. He fell to his knees; Geralt approached him with his giant club.

"The war is over for you," Geralt said and slammed the club down at the knight's burnt head.

Watching Geralt fight the giant elf while clearly injured was agony. Ciri fought Kain's hold on her but only managed once Imlerith's face had melted like cheese left out in the summer sun. She ran to her father as he slammed the club down on the elf's head, wanting to embrace him but scared to do so, unsure where she could touch him, where there were injuries she could not see.

"Geralt," she whispered, one hand reaching for him but not daring to make contact with his skin.

Shivering from pain and exhaustion, the Witcher lowered on his knees in front of the slain elf, his club fell away from his hand.

His left arm was in agony and hung like dead weight.

He managed a meek smile for Ciri's sake. "I'm fine. It's all right." He tried to survey her searching for wounds. She seemed fine except for a few scratches.

Kain kneeled next to him, having approached so silently Geralt didn't notice.

"It's not broken," he said, regarding the Witcher's arm that Imlerith had treated with his club. "Dislocated though." He took a gentle but firm hold of the shoulder and looked a question at him - ready?

Geralt nodded, sucking in a short breath, and he yanked. Geralt cried out, momentarily blinded by a bright flash of pain; it spilt all throughout his arm and chest and into his side. It took a moment to pass. Geralt's cry of pain made a shiver erupt down Ciri's spine. Yet she knew he would heal. He had potions for this.

"Thank you," Geralt breathed. Kain helped him up, and they walked to the edge of the cliff overlooking the land below.

While the two started walking for the cliff, Ciri stayed behind a few moments longer, surveying Imlerith's dead and broken body with a sick satisfaction.

One down, two to go.

She made a point to step of his hand with her boot as she turned and followed her two companions, catching up.

"We need to leave as soon as possible," she said, even if she knew they were all craving some rest. "The Hunt will know."

"It's all right to linger a few minutes longer," Kain said while Geralt sat down on the rocky ground on the edge.

"I'm a bit too old and need a breather," Geralt jibed, shooting Ciri a cunning look.

Kain stepped away to give them a minute, walking over to a tall campfire that still burned.

Ciri sat down beside Geralt, shoulder to shoulder, legs dangling off the edge of the cliff. "Are you alright?"

Geralt shifted his shoulder with a slight wince. "I am, no need to worry." He regarded her closely, "Are you? How did it go with the Crones?"

"One escaped," she said solemnly. "She took Vesemir's medallion."

Geralt frowned in sympathy. "Taking on all three of them at their own Sabbath in their domain was too risky and too brash. It's lucky you came out unharmed."

"Not sure I did. Think I might have swallowed an ear," she teased, gently nudging his good shoulder with her own.

He simpered and wrapped an arm around her shoulders drawing her against him.

"Don't be saddened by that Crone's surviving you. She's alone and weak."

"Not weak enough," she murmured, leaning into him. "Not until she is dead."

She tried to inhale his scent, but right now Geralt smelt mostly like smoke and burned flesh. Still, the fact it was Imlerith's burned flesh made her feel a little giddy.

"Thank you for coming with me."

"It couldn't have been different," Geralt said and kissed her temple. "I'll always be with you if you want it."

"Thank you," she breathed in relief. "I love you. You know that, don't you? Even when I am angry and stubborn."

He smiled. "I love you, even though you're angry and stubborn."

"I said when," she pointed out. "Not that I am all the time." She looked over towards Kain. "They cut his neck fairly badly. I should go check on him."

"He's the most adept one in healing among us," Geralt said, casting a glance at the boy's back - he was still standing at the bonfire. "He'll be fine."

"Are you saying that because you do not want me to leave?" she smirked, pressing a little closer to him.

He grinned. "Want to know all my little secrets, don't you."

"Have you secrets?" Ciri withdrew and playfully poked his side. "What are you keeping from me, hm? Spill it?"

He chuckled, then looked at her with sobered eyes. "I don't think I do. Not from you."

Ciri smiled. "Really? That makes me happy."

Geralt gave her a mock scrutinizing look. "What about you? Any secrets I'd die to know?"

"Can't think of any," she said truthfully. "I feel I have shared a lot with you since we reunited."

Geralt stroked a thumb over her chin affectionately. "I don't want you to ever feel obligated or pressured into such things. That would never be my intention or wish. All right?"

"I know that," Ciri said, pressing a quick kiss to the hand that had been stroking her face.

"Now go check on your friend. I'll start walking back down. You catch up."

He got up, flexed his arm and noted with a bit of satisfaction that it hurt much less.

Ciri got to her feet, gave him a last examining look, and headed for Kain at the bonfire.

"Be careful," she called over her shoulder. "In case that ancient bitch is lingering in a bush somewhere."

At Kain's side, she cast a glance from him to Imlerith and back again.

"How do you feel?"

Staring into the fire intently, Kain kept seeing the sneering Crone's face. That godawful eye with flies crawling in and out, that stench of decay and desperation and the sting of her claws in his neck.

And that voice seeping into the depth of his mind...

He blinked, turned to see Ciri's face. Her question came to him belatedly.

"I'm fine," he responded, and cast a glance back at Geralt who was walking away. "Is he?"

"He will be once he gets to his potions, I am sure," she said, still eyeing Kain closely, one hand moving to tug at his collar to examine the wound under his collarbone. "Doesn't look pretty. What did she cut you with? Please don't say her fingernails..."

"Her nails cut the back and sides of my neck - it healed. It was easier. For this one she used your medallion. But it's fine. When we're out of here, it'll heal, too."

Ciri winced because she could not even begin to imagine where those nails had been.

Of course, they had been partially submerged by fluid that could only be described as people-soup.

"Ready to go? We cannot linger too long. And I would like a bath in the near future."

"We all would like that."

He cast a last gander at the bonfire and turned away to leave with her.

When they descended to where the tents and fires were, Geralt was conversing with the older man who met them in the beginning.

"How can they be gone?" the man inquired. "Velen is a No Man Land. It cannot be without the Ladies! The land will die without them! We will also perish if they don't bestow their gifts upon us."

"It is your land," Geralt said calmly. "It's always been your land. And so you will do well without the Ladies or anything else you think you need. All you need is a bit trust in yourselves. And in your land."

The old man stared at Geralt, thinking hard over his words. People were gathered around, whispering between themselves as the trio approached slowly.

"No! They killed the Ladies!"

They turned in unison; the man with the crossbow stood behind them, his eyes blazing with tears of genuine righteous fury and horror.

"They killed the Ladies and all of us!" he yelled, the crossbow shaking in his hands, wavering between the three of them, as though undecided which one of them held more responsibility for their deities' destruction. "You KILLED ALL OF US!"

Kain saw it in his eyes. Something shifted - even though for a fracture of instant - and his eyes reflected a total dark when he fired his weapon. And in that dark, Kain saw the Crone's stare. The same stare boring into him down in their cave.

_My sweet child..._

The feedback of the bolt pushed him back a tad as if someone punched him in the shoulder. The bolt stuck from under his collarbone oozing fiery pain through his chest.

Kain grunted, and felt Geralt propping him from behind to keep him from slumping or falling.

It happened as if in slow motion and yet Ciri could do nothing to stop it. The bolt struck Kain in the chest and he fell back a tad, landing in Geralt's embrace.

Her mind wiped clean of everything and anything other than pure rage, and grief, as Vesemir's pale and still form flashed before her eyes like some horrible nightmare.

She had left herself again and was looking down at her own body from somewhere else, watching as the girl with her face reached out with both hands towards the owner of the crossbow. Her expression was contorted in something ugly. Something primal that did not seem like it belonged there. And a familiar tempting voice rang in her head.

_Make them all pay. Make them all suffer. _

The man dropped the crossbow, his face one of confusion and fear as his body lifted from the ground to hover a foot in the air.

Ciri watched her hands come together in one rapid blow and the floating man exploded, like the bricks back at Kaer Morhen had.

The feeling of his blood spraying her face brought her back to herself and as the people surrounding them screamed and fled, she swayed on her feet.

It was like a flash of some horrid dream or vision. When Kain looked at the man again, he was himself, just more horrified and confused. And then he saw Ciri; her power overflowed her, took over once again when her mind failed to keep the focus, and then the screaming, horrified man exploded like a wave clashed against a rock during a storm.

Crimson splatter rained down, people screamed and fled.

Geralt's grip on his arm tightened, same as his chest. Kain stood firmer and patted at the Witcher's hand. Geralt let go of him gingerly, then stepped toward the girl.

"Ciri," he ventured, reaching out to her shoulder. "We should go."

"Yes," she agreed, overcome by a pleasant kind of numbness. As if her outburst had temporarily drained all emotion from her.

"Let us get to the boat." She started to head that way, then paused, looking back over her shoulder to Kain to see if he needed help walking.

Kain felt a bit woozy, and it was harder to breathe. The bolt was as if made of fire spreading venom through his chest. Geralt walked next to him, attentive to notice if he would begin to falter.

The boat was still waiting for them. Geralt pushed it into the water, they got in. He took the paddles and began to row. His arm was still uncomfortable, but most of the pain was bearable. His eyes kept studying Ciri as if attempting to gauge.

"Let me do that," she told Geralt once they had pushed away from shore, reaching for the oars. "You are injured. Tend to Kain. Help him heal."

"I'll be fine," Kain said, getting a better grip on the bolt, but Geralt's hand drew his away.

"Grab onto something," he said, his fingers closing around the bolt.

Kain took a shallow painful breath and took a hold of the boat's brims. Geralt yanked the bolt out, and Kain's chest and shoulder burst in scalding pain. He let out a sound that was a mixture of grunt and growl, squeezing his eyes shut when his vision darkened. It took a moment to balance between staying awake and slipping into a luring numbness, but his mind held on to the former.

"Thanks," he breathed, peering at Geralt; the Witcher was pressing his palm to the wound, blood trickling between his fingers down the back of his hand like new red veins coming out.

"It might've pierced your lung," Geralt said. "What do you need to heal? I have Swallow, but you're not a mutant."

"No need. I just need a bit of time, is all."

"All right."

Was he telling the truth about that or did he just not want to concern them, Ciri wondered. A pierced lung was not nothing.

She eyed Kain while she rowed in a steady rhythm, her arms eventually starting to ache from the repeated strain. But she did not stop. It was a tolerable kind of pain. Most physical pains were. Preferable to the devastating thoughts trying to enter her mind, trying to remind her how close she had come to losing him.

It took them a good chunk of time to get to the village where they had left their horses at the inn, and by then Geralt had done some more rowing of his own, as well.

* * *

When they neared the shore, Kain opened his eyes and moved his shoulder. The bleeding had stopped, the wound had skinned over, but some inner pain lingered. It would take some more time to get over the aftereffects.

At least he hoped so. Unless the Crone had been prepared and made the man poison the bolt with some filth Kain hadn't detected yet.

Either way, time would tell.

They returned the boat and checked on the horses, then went to the inn for a meal. None of them were particularly hungry, but appreciated a chance to relax.

Kain touched a hand to Geralt's strained shoulder and rid him of remaining pain and damage from the club. It made him more tired, but it was worth it. Geralt didn't have to take his potions and wait through their side effects.

"We'll take a few hours of rest," Geralt said when their baked potatoes arrived, "and then go on to Novigrad."

"Yes. I will have the innkeeper prepare us baths. We could all use them." Especially Kain and Ciri. They both smelled strongly of death and blood.

She dug into her potato, taking quick little bites to get the eating-part of the night over with. At this point it was simply something that needed to be done and finished.

"I better take a swim in the river," Kain said, sending a piece of potato into his mouth.

"I've had enough cold swims for one night and would prefer a warm one this time," Geralt said.

Ciri finished before her companions had even gotten halfway, and rose to her feet. "I will take care of it."

She headed for the bar counter. They had already purchased rooms for the night, so it was no trouble having the innkeeper's daughter provide them with warm water and soap.

She went to tend to it immediately and Ciri followed to help, attempting to make the process go quicker.

* * *

As soon as his meal was finished, Kain went to get the horse he supposed he could consider his now and went north from the settlement. He knew Griffin was there waiting.

While the beast was cleaning his feathers sprawled on the shore, Kain made a campfire, left his clothes at it and went for a swim.

It was a lucky day with no drowners around to spoil his bath. He warmed the water around him and rubbed his skin until he felt clean of all the dark sticky magic of the Crones and their special place on the mountain.

He half lay with his back against the griffin's warm side, watching the fire and absentmindedly brushing his fingertips over the place where the bolt had been earlier. Something inside still ached dully, but it wasn't his concern.

He kept thinking about the Crone's words.

_Elder Blood..._

_I'll take thee as my tribute and you'll get them back for me..._

* * *

Ciri undressed the moment the innkeeper's daughter was out, lowering herself into the bath and sinking down beneath the surface to truly rinse every inch of her.

That numb feeling was still there and for now she reveled in it. It offered no concern, no guilt, no fear. It was just her and the warm water, the most at peace she had felt for a long time.

The warm bath did Geralt good, helped him relax and feel there was no remaining pains or discomforts. Kain could heal for sure.

Could he heal himself as perfectly, the Witcher wondered. The Cat still seemed a bit rundown when he left after the supper.

Geralt's mind returned to the Crones and Imlerith, his biting words about Ciri.

'Sooner or later, he'll get to her, and when he does, she'll be spreading her pretty long legs to welcome him as her master. You cannot change this, nor that she desires him deeply. She never told you, did she?'

'The Sisters saw your return in the waters. They told me you'd come.'

When Geralt went outside for some fresh air, the sky was already dark and stars were twinkling all over it. Kain's horse was still absent. He wondered whether the Cat was going to spend the night alone away from them. Ciri wouldn't like that.

Ciri remained until the water turned cold, then climbed out and wrapped herself in one of the bed sheets. She moved to stand by the window, eyeing the street outside. It was fairly empty, not much to see.

Kain had not returned. She could sense as much. She probably should be out searching for him, making sure he was all right like she always did. But she suddenly felt so very tired.

She lay down atop her bed and gazed out the window, trying to count the stars.

* * *

Kain snapped his eyes open with a sharp inhale. Griffin croaked softly as if in question.

The crossbow man's face right before he was no more than a blood rain still stood in Kain's inner eye lingering from the dream.

"She killed him because of me," he whispered. Griffin clacked his beak. "If she loses control because of me, how can I stay around? I don't want her to kill because of me. I shouldn't have stayed."

Griffin croaked softly. He had no answers. Nor had Kain.

* * *

Ciri woke the next day and found Kain was still not back. She did not even feel his presence at the inn. Did that mean he had left? For good? He had only said he would come to take care of Imlerith, had not promised anything beyond that.

She slowly got out of bed and found her clothes, pulling them on. Most of the inn seemed to still be asleep. Geralt probably was, too.

She found Kelpie outside in the stables and climbed atop her.

"Find him," Ciri told her. "You know where to go."

The sky was clear and the sun was stroking his face when Kain woke up.

He squinted, sitting up, and stretched. Griffin stirred and got up, too, stretching like a cat. The horse was grazing not far from them. The stallion didn't mind the griffin's presence so close, anymore.

Kain splashed the river water in his face, then stood and winced moving his shoulder. The dull ache was still there. As well as the clear memory of the Crone's face so close to his, and the crossbow man's terror before he died. Kain winced again and glanced after the griffin that took off to hunt.

The stallion raised his head to look at the creature fly off, then returned to grazing.

Ciri found him easily. Turned out he had not strayed too far from the village.

She slipped off Kelpie's back and approached Kain cautiously, looking him over. "Are you leaving?"

"Leaving where?" he asked. She seemed more like herself now, and that eager searching in her eyes when she looked at him had returned.

"Leaving me? Us?" She lifted her head, searching the sky for the griffin but she could not see him.

A bit stupefied, Kain reflected on it a moment. "Why do you ask that?"

She thought on that a moment.

"Scared," she admitted. "I don't want you to go."

His inner conflict tightened his chest. "Why are you scared? You're not alone. You won't be alone."

_Not scared to be alone. Scared to be without you._

She couldn't tell him that. Could tell no one that.

"I suppose that is true." She looked to her feet. "Are you coming with us to Novigrad?"

He was studying her with a subtle curious squint. There was something she wasn't telling, and he couldn't insist.

He thought about the Novigrad, averting his eyes to the river and the glaring spots of sunlight reflecting off its surface. A part of him wanted to leave, felt it was the best time. Maybe the only time he would be able to. There was another part reminding him he had made a promise to help.

(… _Elder Blood… my sweet child_…)

A wince crossed his face; he pushed the thought away and peered back at her. "You want me to come because you believe they're after me? Because you think I can't be alone, anymore, while they can hunt me, too, now?"

She nodded, watching him from under her eyelashes.

"That is one of the reasons," she admitted. "The other is… purely selfish."

He frowned, "Selfish, how?"

"Because having you close makes me feel good. And I think it might be one-sided, so… Selfish."

"Feel good? What do you mean? If it's safety - I'm sure Geralt makes you feel the same."

She could not help but laugh. "How I feel about you and how I feel about Geralt are two very different things."

And she hated that he was making her say it, making her feel so vulnerable.

"Beyond the pull of mysterious powers, beyond the fact you are an extremely valuable asset to our cause, I… I like you, Kain."

He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Like... I helped you, so you like me. Because we're friendly. It's the very base reaction. Nothing unusual about it."

"No," she said, drawing out the vowel as if she was speaking to someone in need of extra time and understanding. "I. Like. You."

Kain kept peering at her with the same expression, since his reasoning still stood.

She threw her hands in the air, frustrated and unwilling to humiliate herself further. "Never mind. Are you coming to Novigrad or not?"

He looked at the river pensively. "I don't know if I should. I'm not sure what I should do. Nor do you know, apparently. No one does."

"I want you to come. I think I have made that very clear," she said seriously.

"One wish is not always enough to choose a path," he murmured. "There should be... something more. And I don't know what."

She knew she was asking a lot of him. Staying with them was close to a death sentence. But him out there alone… It might not be better.

His words stung and before she could stop herself, her insecurities showed once again. "Am I not enough?"

He turned back to her, both baffled and surprised. He searched her face and knew she didn't mean to spill it, but the emotion got a will of its own. It meant it was genuine.

But what it was... The thought scared him.

He pondered a moment and asked: "If you had to leave everything you know and are used to and leave with me into the unknown, would I be enough for you to do that?"

"If it was temporary, yes," she said. "I am not asking you to abandon what you know and love forever. I am asking you to stay with us until we have defeated The Hunt. Until we are all…" _Safe_ was not the right word. "Safer."

The Hunt had nothing to do with her 'am I not enough' argument, but Kain felt no wish to pry or even remind her of having used it.

A part of him hoped she didn't mean it. That he didn't hear it right. That it was safe to dismiss it altogether.

"All right," he said finally and went to the black stallion still peacefully nipping at the grass. "I'll help you with the Hunt."

She breathed a sigh of relief even as she could feel the guilt of pushing him into it begin to seep through her defenses.

"Wonderful. Let us hope Geralt is up by now. We should not linger too long in this area."

He hopped on the horse. "He's still asleep. It's been a long haul from the mountain back to the village"

Ciri frowned as she climbed back into Kelpie. "How do you know? Have you bonded that deeply already you can sense if he is awake or asleep?"

Kain shrugged, sending Onyx into a trot with a gentle press of his heels. "I just know. I might be wrong. We don't have to be bonded to understand each other. We come from the same place. Brought up the same way - well, almost."

* * *

After arriving back in Novigrad – what was waiting for Yennefer was a note from Triss. In it she stated that she was going to infiltrate the Radovid's prison and try to gain information on Margarita Laux-Antille. She didn't explain her reasoning but Yennefer assumed it had to do with the fact that Triss felt responsibility about being the cause of her demise.

Yennefer crumpled the note, tossed it aside in rage, irritated that Triss had recklessly decided to hand herself over to the enemy and that she couldn't wait to let them discuss her plans.

That had been a day ago.

Trying to save her had proven useless, but finding her surprisingly easy.

Only Yennefer hadn't been able to get into the fortress or find a means of getting in that would mean that Yen would be able to safely get out, as well.

Yennefer settled for an alternative, a mind altercation of one of the soldiers. That had worked for all of a passing of the gate, of seeing where Triss was kept. And then her 'spy' was caught.

That would have been fine, only it had made the situation worse as after a thorough investigation and torture, they'd discovered his head had been tampered with and he couldn't remember anything beyond what he'd been told to do for the redhead by freeing her.

Yennefer should have been more careful, but her options had been limited.

Radovid's men and his assigned hunters now freely roved the streets of Novigrad, citing war, plucking anyone from their midst that showed even the slightest inkling of magic use.

* * *

Ciri climbed the stairs to Geralt's room and knocked. Just in case he was naked.

Geralt groaned, flipping lazily onto his back.

"Ciri..."

She entered at the sound of his grunting and closed the door behind her, eyeing her mentor in his bed. "How do you feel?"

"Sleepy." He cracked an eye open at her with a sardonic smirk.

"Mhmm, and other than that?" She took a seat on the edge of his bed.

"I'm fine, you have nothing to worry about. What of you? And your friend?"

"I'm fine. Kain seems fine. We are ready to ride out."

"Fine. Go get us some breakfast, and then we shall. It's a few hours ride if we don't hurry to spare the horses."

"Get dressed," she said, rising to her feet again and heading for the door. "We will be downstairs."

She found the innkeeper and ordered all the breakfast they were serving that day before sitting down next to Kain at a table. "He'll be here soon. Unless he falls asleep again."

"He deserves more rest if he needs it," Kain said. "Are we in a such a hurry that another hour is vital?"

"I would rather not be here when The Hunt arrives."

"They're not in a hurry yet - they are certain that they'll win. Though, when they find out about Imlerith - who knows."

"That Crone could have already told them." Ciri leaned back in her seat, trying to relax.

"Perhaps." He frowned thinking about things the Weavess told him.

Why would she say that…

"You look worried," Ciri noted. There was a crease between his eyebrows that had been there since yesterday. "Are you still in pain?"

He pushed the annoying thought away and shook his head. "No, not really. It's probably nothing."

Probably nothing? That did not sound like Kain. He was always so certain of his own self Ciri had never known him to use words like _probably_.

She turned toward him with a mild frown of her own. "What is it?"

He met her eyes firmly. "Nothing important. Witches say nasty things when they're angry."

"So do I," she admitted, temporarily worried it was her he was talking of. But that made no sense. She was not really a witch.

She was silent a moment, thinking. "The Crones?"

He nodded. "Seems like she believed I could somehow get her sisters back. I would guess, she had ideas how to make it happen."

That was interesting. "Really?" She paused, eyeing him curiously. "Could you?"

Kain grimaced. "I wouldn't touch anything resembling necromancy, and no, I don't believe I can bring them back. But what she meant was that she knew the how part, and she wanted to use me somehow. Not for knowledge, but for power or whatever else.

"If she knows ways to bring her sisters back, she can find a way. If she does, they will do everything to make you and Geralt pay for their demise."

"Perhaps we should have burned their bodies," she muttered, falling silent when the innkeeper came over with their breakfast.

Kain shook his head slowly, contemplative. "I don't think those bodies are important for bringing them back. Hardly they would reuse them."

"You don't think they were their original bodies? Why would anyone choose to look like that?"

"They're not of this world as much as they rather visit from another dimension. So those bodies could be recreated if a certain magic is used.

"As for the looks, their perception of it was not like a human's. You know what they say: beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It's subjective, personal. They're not human, and their perception is different. Their bodies allowed them to change their looks to play with people's perceptions and minds manipulating them."

Ciri understood what he was saying but she still struggled with believing anyone would find The Crones appealing enough to even approach.

"Right." She ripped off a piece of bread and put it in her mouth. "Are you scared she will come looking for you?"

"No, I'm not scared for myself. I merely wondered about what she said."

_(...Elder Blood... My sweet child...)_

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. That man, though, - he didn't deserve to die. She possessed him to make him shoot. It wasn't his fault, he was just scared out of his mind. The whole world as they knew it crumbled. Those people lost their base, their religion that kept them going and made the only sense they knew."

Ciri froze, his words buzzing around her mind in a confusing cacophony.

"What?" she asked, looking at him in horror. "What did you just say?"

He peered at her in mild alarm and confusion. "What?"

"He was possessed?" Her arms fell into her lap, eyes wide and pleading. "How do you know?"

Kain almost regretted saying anything, seeing her look. "I saw it in his eyes. They changed when she entered and then he fired the bolt. She made him shoot me."

Her gaze fell to the table in front of her. It became harder to breathe and a cold sweat began to lace her forehead. She was silent for a long time, trying to process. And then…

She jumped up and broke away from the table, making for the front door. She was going to be sick.

She ran for the stables and stopped once she could hide from public sight behind one of the walls, supporting herself against the shoddily built building, trying to steady herself. Bile was rising at the back of her throat and she was trying hard to not let her measly breakfast come back up again.

She closed her eyes and wept silently.

"Dammit," Kain hissed under his breath and went after her. The keeper's wife was on her way to their table with their breakfast, and she stared at him with saturated reprimand. "We'll be back shortly," he assured her. "Just leave it there, please. I'm sorry."

He found Ciri at the stables; her shoulders were shaking making his heart shrink. A part of him wished he didn't bring it up, but deep down he knew she had to know. She had to think about it, so some other poor fellow wouldn't die like that in the future.

Silently, he approached and gently pulled her from the wall into his arms.

Ciri didn't have to open her eyes to know it was Kain. Good thing, too. If it had been anyone other than him or Geralt, she would have kicked them in the groin.

She leaned into him, her hands covering her face, and cried until she had nothing more to give, until she felt drained and her head ached.

He held her while she let it all out, her body shaking against him. He felt every bit of her suffering as if they went through him like cold needles, piercing and leaving a freezing residue of desperation.

When her weeping eased, he stroked a hand up and down her back.

"There are buckets with rain water under the shed," he said quietly. "You can wash your face before we return. Geralt might be down already."

She nodded, not quite ready to talk yet.

She gave his arm a squeeze in a mute thanks and pulled away, making her way over to the shed in question on shaky legs. She found the buckets and leaned down to splash water on her face, washing away any sign of tears so they could go back inside.

Kain let her have a moment alone while he returned inside the inn to find Geralt settling at their table. The keeper's wife shot Kain a look as if he were a weird one, and served Geralt's plate.

"Where's Ciri?" Geralt asked.

"She's outside for some fresh air, going to be back in a minute." He sat down and picked up his fork.

Geralt was scrutinizing Kain in open disbelief. "What's wrong?"

Kain sighed. "I told her the man she killed was possessed by the surviving Crone. It upset her."

Geralt frowned, "And you did that, why?"

"Because she has the right to know. With the kind of power she possesses, she has to know responsibility. You know that. It might help her learn to not lose control when emotions run high. I would guess it's what the elf is trying to teach her."

Geralt poked his eggs with a fork, scowling in thought. "I understand your point. But I don't want her to suffer. She's had more than enough of that. She was afraid for you and reacted. You can't blame her for caring so much."

"I don't blame _her_, Geralt. I blame myself for being the reason of that man's death. It could be either of us, but it happened to be me. And I did nothing to stop her."

"You couldn't. Nor could I."

"Maybe I could if I tried harder."

Geralt sighed, his head shaking twice. "Oh, Gwyncath…"

Ciri returned some time later and reclaimed her seat, helping herself to a sip of the tea we had been served. She wasn't all that hungry anymore, but forced herself to eat, nonetheless, avoiding eye contact with Geralt and Kain both.

They ate in silence. Geralt regarded her a few times, but she never raised her eyes to either of them while she ate with no appetite.

Kain finished his meal, then his water, and took his plate and mug to have an excuse to leave the table. He left them on the counter and exited the inn, adjusting his sword as he went for the stables.

Geralt sipped his tea, watching Kain go, then looked back to Ciri, concerned.

"You feeling all right?"

She still did not meet his eyes, but nodded. "Yes. Or I will be. In time."

It hurt him deep inside his heart. "Ciri, you know you can talk to me about anything when you need to. I want to help if you need it."

"And I love you for that. But not now. Let us just get on the road. How long do you think it will take us to get to Novigrad?"

"Three hours or so if we don't push the horses much."

She nodded again. "That is good. Three is acceptable. We can get some decent rest once there. You and Kain will need it with your injuries."

"My injuries have healed. I feel good. If our companions have arrived there already, I will be busy, I foresee."

"Rest is still needed," she argued. "We have not had much recently."

And she had run out of Mousesack's sleeping draught. She would have to ask Yennefer for help.

"Ready?"

Geralt nodded and got up, waiting for her to follow her outside. He left the pay for their breakfast on the counter as he passed by, with a nod of thanks to the keeper and his wife.

Kain was at the stables' rack, stroking his horse's neck. The stallion's nose was propping the boy's arm as though in a gesture of tenderness an animal could show to a human it served.

Geralt whistled for Roach; she paid absolutely no mind. He sighed and went to pull her away from the feeder. She tore away from grain reluctantly and snorted while he mounted.

Kelpie came to Ciri as soon as she stepped out. Ciri climbed into her saddle, waited until they were all ready, then set off.

She did not speak until they could see the city walls in the distance.

"Will the griffin stay close by? Out in these forests?"

"He'll be where he sees best," Kain said. "He knows to stay safe and move when it's dark."


	23. Chapter 23

The smell of burnt flesh wafted around the city walls as they approached. The road to the gates was framed by wooden stakes with charred bodies strapped to them. The sight made Kain sick.

Geralt scowled. "Eternal Fire," he murmured. "With the mages gone, they took to the next best thing – non-humans."

The sight made Ciri ashamed of the human race. And yet, she was grateful it was not her Yennefer up there. Ciri hoped the sorceress had been able to keep herself safe.

Ciri adjusted her hood to conceal her hair better as they rode through the gates of Novigrad.

"Dandelion's Inn?" she asked Geralt.

"Yes. Let's take the shortest road."

Ciri and Geralt rode with Kain following. Some people watched him curiously – no one rode a horse without a saddle or bridle on their memory or habits. Seeing two swords on him, however, calmed some of their curiosity. After all, everybody knew witchers to be freaks. It was merely a matter of how much of a freak could one of them be.

ROSEMARY AND THYME met them with a lively crowd; courtesans strolled among the selection of guests who held glasses of wine and mead and whiskey.

"Dandelion! Get our best wine! We have guests!" Zoltan walked to them, his arms spread as he grinned, laughing heartily.

"Geralt! Ciri!" Dandelion hurried from behind the counter, grinning happily. "I'm so happy to see you both in one piece."

"What were ye up to?" Zoltan asked.

Geralt glanced at Ciri momentarily, as if for reassurance. "We went after Imlerith and the Crones of Velen. Took care of our unfinished business."

Zoltan nodded with a smile of approval. "That's great news. Ye all need rest now. We'll talk later."

"That must be Kain," Dandelion said, eyeballing Gwyncath. A small cunning smile was tugging at the poet's lips as he cast a gander at Ciri. A knowing smile. He offered a hand to Kain, which the latter accepted. "Nice to meet you. I'm their fr—"

"I know who you are," Kain said, releasing his hand. "I've been to many places where your ballads have been played."

"Oh," Dandelion beamed, and squinted inquisitively. "You like poetry?"

"I like the stories," Kain said. "And how you put them to music."

"That works," Dandelion nodded, and looked at Ciri. "I approve, little bird." He tipped her a wink, grinning like a happy idiot.

Ciri gave Dandelion a sharp glare then looked back over her shoulder at Kain. "Don't believe all his tales. Sometimes he fibs, exaggerates."

Dandelion put a hand to his chest as if she had just wounded him deeply. "How very much dare you?"

She grinned and pulled the poet in for an embrace, which he reciprocated without hesitation.

"Have you any news of Yennefer and Triss? Avallac'h?" she asked once they'd parted.

"The elf is upstairs in my finest room. He simply commandeered it. Was in a foul mood when he arrived with Zoltan."

Yes, Ciri imagined he would be.

"As for Lady Yennefer and company, I believe Zoltan has the details of their whereabouts," Dandelion continued. "But first, please make yourselves at home. We have rooms available for you all."

Geralt glanced at Kain who surveyed the room and the courtesans that had noticed him and were giggling with each other, then gave Dandelion a nod.

"That would be very nice."

"Let me show ye to yer room, lassie," Zoltan said, pointing at the stairs.

"What of Avallac'h?" Geralt asked Dandelion. "Did he say anything?"

"He was in a foul mood, it seems," the poet said, rubbing his chin in thought. "All he said to me was 'I wish to know when Gwynblaidd and Zireael arrive', and then he locked himself in the Ruby suite. I don't even know what he eats or drinks there. He never came out in these few days."

"What of the sorceresses?"

"Triss has been here for a while, I just haven't seen her for a day or three… Not sure. I was busy myself, some important performances and all. As for Yennefer, she said she'd meet you at the KATE'S."

Geralt looked surprised. "In that brothel by the canal? You sure?"

"Yes, yes, I am. She said you'll know why when the time comes."

"I see. Looks like I'll have my hands full."

Dandelion smiled with mock sympathy, patting the Witcher's back. "Good luck, mate."

* * *

Ciri took Kain's hand in hers and followed Zoltan up the stairs, ignoring the giggling courtesan that were popping out from every corner.

On the second floor, Zoltan opened the last room on the left. It was quite spacious for a rented room and much prettier than the standard. She supposed Dandelion had been the one to decorate it.

"There are some clothes in the wardrobe," Zoltan said, gesturing to the giant oak closet. "We thought ye might need a change when ye returned from yer adventures."

He winked and turned to face Kain. "What about ye, kitten lad? Are ye stayin' or goin' out to the woods?"

"I'd love to go to the woods," he admitted, "but I don't think I'll do that. Too many guards that would be taking notice."

"Right ye are," Zoltan said. "And our beds are better. Come, I'll give ye a room next to Geralt's."

Ciri gave a small smile as Zoltan led Kain away and stepped into her own assigned room, taking a moment to examine the clothing in the wardrobe. There were at least one set of trousers and a few shirts that would work to her advantage, which was a relief. She was aching to get out of her own crone-infested armor so to have it cleaned.

She changed, adjusted her weapons, then made her way back downstairs to see whether Geralt was going to meet up with Yen at once. She was purposely avoiding Avallac'h.

"Here's the change of clothes for ye, too," Zoltan said waving a hand to the dresser in Kain's room. "Some shirts, nothing fancy, but all nice to have for a fighter. I'll get ye some hot water for a bath when you ready - just say the word."

"Thank you," Kain said, surveying the room, then turned to him. "I'll probably check with Geralt first."

"As ye wish," the dwarf spread his arms in a shrug. "But I'd say all of ye need to rest first."

He left, and Kain strolled around the room, familiarizing himself with it.

* * *

Ciri found Geralt downstairs sharing a drink with Dandelion at the bar counter.

"Are you going to meet with Yennefer?" she asked, resting an elbow on the nearest horizontal surface.

"Not before you have a drink!" Dandelion exclaimed, producing a clean glass and pouring her some kind of amber liquid. Glasses were rare. Ciri wondered how he had been able to afford such a luxury.

"I have to talk to Avallac'h first, I would guess," Geralt said, sipping his liquor. "Dandelion says he insisted. Must be something worth hearing out. And you're supposed to be resting, remember?"

"I am resting," she said, spreading her arms in a see-how-relaxed-I-am gesture.

She looked at Dandelion, lifting her glass to her lips.

"Did he say what he wanted?"

Dandelion pulled a deadpan face and drawled, "Let me know when Gwynblaidd and Zireael arrive, I shall see them immediately."

Ciri's lips twitched in a small, amused smile. "That is him, alright."

"I'll take care of it," Geralt said, finishing his drink. "After Yennefer."

"Is she close by?"

"At Crippled Kate's," Geralt said.

She frowned. "The brothel? What on earth would she be doing there?"

"I believe she wants me to find out in person." Geralt shrugged, smiling.

Dandelion chuckled into his brandy.

"Well, try to bring her back here with you," Ciri said. "I should like to see her."

"I'll be sure to do what I can," he promised. "I guess I have to be going. It's quite a walk to Kate's."

He pushed his empty glass to Dandelion with a thanks and got up to head out.

Ciri took Geralt's place when he got up, eyeing the crowded room.

"I see business has picked up."

Dandelion nodded wisely. "People seek comforts in these troubled times. And there has been a lot of trouble in these streets lately."

She thought about the charred corpses they had seen upon entering the city, shuddered and had another sip of her drink.

"But enough of the sad news," Dandelion slapped his palm against the counter and reached for the bottle to refill their glasses. He shot Ciri a cunning look while pouring her a drink. "Tell me about the boy. Zoltan isn't the best story-teller when it comes to fine matters of the heart and soul."

"I think he prefers Kain to boy," she said with a slight smile. "We met on Skellige. He is of the druids and Brokilon. Child of nature and all that. He has agreed to help us fight The Hunt."

"Oh! Child of nature! Raw passion with white hair and two swords! Some fresh blood to pour into the ears of people bleeding for more melodious feelings they would never encounter in their own mediocre lives." Dandelion grinned, his eyes sparkled. "Zoltan said he has a griffin. Is that so?"

She blinked, unable to quite process the brief excited rant the poet had gone off on. "Um, yes. Well, he doesn't own him but they are certainly close. They keep each other company."

"Amazing!" Dandelion exclaimed. "What about you two? How did you meet? I want details."

She squinted suspiciously at him. "I am not going to give you material for new ballads, Dandelion."

Dandelion looked hurt. "No! How could you think so low of me, Ciri? How could I have earned that?"

"Experience," she said with a knowing smile. "I have heard all the ballads about Yennefer and Geralt."

Dandelion squinted with cunning inquiry, "Are you so defensive because there are things between you two already that ballads are made of?"

Ciri pursed her lips, a pink tint to her cheeks. "Of course not. We have only known each other for less than two weeks." She took another sip of her drink and playfully tossed a napkin his way. "And you? Have you any new conquests? Who was it you talked about last I was here? Priscilla?"

Dandelion winced, waving a dismissive hand. "Priscilla, yes. All is good and great between us, but it's old news. Favor my eager, hungry mind with your breath of new, Ciri." His eyes sparkled again as they searched her. "You like him? How did you meet? Did you find him in Skelligan wild forests or caves?"

"We have become friendly," she said, because Kain had said so in his own words. So that was at least one definition she could be certain of. "We first met in the mountains of Skellige. Or rather, I ran into his griffin while he was feeding. It was… an unfortunate situation.

"And later… we continued to meet again and again under the strangest circumstances. After you lot went back here, we stayed together for a few days."

"Oooh, that's exciting!" Dandelion admired, refilling their glasses. "What circumstances? There was some magic? Fate? Destiny that brought you together?"

She could not help but laugh. "Gods, Dandelion, you are practically salivating," she teased, taking a sip. "I don't know what brought us together. But I did dream of him before we ever met. I thought that might be a sign of… something."

Dandelion watched her with eager fascination, ignoring her jibes. "Oh, it certainly means something! You are not just any ordinary girl, Ciri. Your dreams must mean a lot of things.

"What about him, though? He saw you in his dreams?"

She shook her head, trying hard to keep the disappointment out of her expression. "No. Not that I know of. But he knew who I was." She gave Dandelion a look. "Because of your ballads."

Dandelion grinned his most angelic grin and spread his arms in mute apology he didn't really mean.

"People reach out for beauty of magical poetry, it's only natural. He likes you, and my ballads helped. You have no idea how many young people dream of meeting the famous Lion Cub of Cintra. You're a dream of many."

Ciri grimaced because she failed to think of that in any positive context. She downed her glass instead of responding to that and fixed him with her gaze again. "How do you know he likes me?"

Dandelion composed a shocked expression. "How can anyone not like you! It's impossible. Positively impossible."

She snorted. "You would be amazed. Besides, I am not really her anymore, am I? Another took my place."

"It's not about her or anyone else but you - you, the Ciri, a girl brought up by witchers and the famous Geralt of Rivia. You, Ciri, are an amazing girl. He absolutely cannot not like you. It's inevitable. You just don't want to see it. Sometimes you can be as frustrating as your Geralt."

She feigned outrage. "That is a deeply hurtful claim, Dandelion!"

"It's true!" he argued with fake vehemence. "You two can't see what's best for you at times! Thank the gods for my ballads. They can show the way, for they come directly from heavens."

He grinned and drank.

"How are things with him and Yennefer?"

"He doesn't really talk about her much," she said, leaning in a little to lower her voice. "He doesn't remember her, Dandelion. Not much beyond these past few weeks, anyway. He doesn't even truly comprehend she has been a part of my life as well."

Dandelion looked pained, shook his head slowly. "So unfortunate. She better find a way to rectify it. They are meant for each other."

"If anyone can, it's her. Though I doubt she has had much time to think on it lately. The elves intent on ending our world takes priority." And Ciri felt a little guilty about that. She reached forward and took Dandelion's hand, smiling. "Tell me of something that has happened here since I've been away. Something good."

He smiled meekly. "Our life here is a routine. We have performances, we have guests every night and then prepare for the next night during the day. We did nothing else while you were away."

"And will you gift us with a performance tonight? Some music, perhaps?"

"We didn't have anything big planned for tonight. Zoltan thought you would be back and busy. We didn't need any extra attention on this place."

She pouted, flashing him her best attempt at doe-eyes. "Not even a song or two? I have been without music for weeks…"

Dandelion rolled his eyes. "I see how it is, young lady. When I beg for a fresh story, you insult me by calling a blabbermouth, but when you want music, I have to comply."

"I gave you a story," she said, grinning. "The beginning of one anyway. But it is always fun to watch how red Geralt's face gets when you make his tale the center of your performance."

"What you gave me was a tease of a taste!" Dandelion complained. "I need to know more, and your only excuse is that you haven't rested yet. Priscilla is performing tonight at the Kingfisher Inn. If you promise to rest, you can go there and enjoy some great music."

"It is a deal." She threw back the rest of her drink and stood. "I shall do as told at once, 'uncle' Dandelion."

The pet-name said with affectionate teasing before she bounded for the stairs to get to her room.

Dandelion winced at the nickname that he thought made him sound old, and waved a hand as she walked away.

"Children," he murmured and lilted out his drink.

* * *

Ciri ran upstairs, nearly knocking over two courtesans in the process and stopped outside Kain's room, knocking twice. "Kain, you in there?"

She knew he was. The question was just to let him know it was her.

Kain waved a hand, making the door open without approaching it.

"Where else can I be."

"In the arms of a pretty courtesan?" she teased, stepping inside and leaning against the doorway. "Will you come with me to the Kingfisher Inn tonight for a performance? Spend an hour or two doing something that is not, well, battle related?"

He gave her a slightly confused look. "For as long as I don't have to be the performer."

She smirked. "What? No hidden talents that could count as entertainment?"

"Fighting skills," he shrugged. "That doesn't work at the inns, however."

"No pristine singing voice or folk dancing?" she teased. "Let us settle for being the audience tonight then. Dandelion's girl, Priscilla, is supposed to play. I hear she is very talented."

"If you insist," he sighed, sitting down in the chair at the window. He wasn't sure whether he could nap or was too thrown out of his habits to attempt that.

She arched an eyebrow at that notable sigh. "It was just an offer, Kain. I don't insist. It is fine if you would rather stay here and rest."

A quick, meek sneer twitched his mouth. "I'd rather be in the woods, but that's out of the question - thus I'm out of the 'rather' options." He paused, regarding her. "Forgive me for upsetting you earlier. It wasn't my intention."

A dull kind of disappointment squeezed her heart, but she refused to let it show, instead focusing on his next words.

"You didn't. I upset myself." All her fault after all. "I will see you later."

She left his room and closed the door behind her before entering her own, laying down atop her made bed with both hands resting on her stomach, eyes on the ceiling. This counted as rest, did it not?

* * *

Given the trouble she'd stirred by alerting Radovids men and the new laws he'd implemented to tighten the lookout for magic users navigating around Novigrad became a chore.

Yennefer also blamed on Triss since she hadn't told Yen her plans beforehand and put everything they were trying to work for at risk. It would only be a matter of time before she appeared on one of those stakes and Yennefer suspected that, like with Margarita, she was being saved for last to be made an example of. What better way than to destroy the final members of The Lodge? However, it also didn't change the fact that students, one after the other, were being burnt alive daily and that Radovid was treating the torture like entertainment.

Yennefer had attended each and everyone one. There was to be another this afternoon. The problem was she didn't know how many more girls were left and if she could uselessly standby, anymore.

Thankfully, for the time being, Yennefer didn't have to as more information had been brought to her, a titbit from another of the soldiers she'd approached and mind-boggled.

She knew that doing so again had been even risker, a reminder to Radovid that whomever was out there was still around (should the soldier be discovered), that it would inevitably wound his pride and cause him to do something drastic, but what other choice had there been?

Only this time the information had been good.

Someone named Deireadh had escaped and knew what was going on inside. Yennefer had found out who and sent him a message, beseeched that he meet her in private at CRIPPLED KATE and had even offered to get him out of Novigrad safely. He'd taken over a day and a half to get back to her, but eventually his messenger appeared, handed her the note, and disappeared without waiting.

The sorceress knew that it was useless following him, that if he was as smart as he appeared—and he was given his escape plan—that it wouldn't get her anywhere.

She waited for him now (as well as Geralt who she sensed had arrived), situated in the far back of the busy establishment, watching as men came and went, trying to ascertain which one she was looking for and hopeful he wouldn't be spooked before he arrived.

Geralt jogged most of the way to CRIPPLED KATE'S, then caught his breath a second before walking in.

He spotted the girl he knew inside; she was dancing in the corner closest to where Yennefer sat alone at a table. The sorceress was wearing her black velvet cloak with a deep hood, but her mouth and chin were unmistakable for those who knew her.

Geralt appeared through the door and despite his niceties with one of the girls gyrating in the corner of the room, Yennefer felt certain areas of her body pulsate. You'd think that with the amount of times they'd fallen into bed together that she'd be over that continued shock of need.

He spared a short smile for the girl who recognized him, and settled across the table from the sorceress.

"Glad to see you in one piece," he greeted, smiling. "Where's Triss? She wasn't at the inn. Dandelion said he hadn't seen her in days."

"And you," she mused, returning the smile.

Unlike other times when their eyes locked and she could sense he knew what she was feeling, this time, he'd gone straight into the business portion of the meeting, crushing anything else.

"She's with Radovid. Seems she got it in her head that she could try to get information from him and handed herself over."

Geralt stared at her in stupefied shock. "She did what?! How could you let her?"

"It's not as if she left me any choice," she retorted. "Besides – that's why you're here."

She twisted so to get closer to him.

"I found someone who escaped the prison they're being held in. We're supposed to meet him here."

"He better come soon," he said. "We have to save Triss. How long has she been there?"

"She's been gone since before I got here. From what I learned she's only been in his custody two days. Three possibly. She hasn't tried to reach out to you?"

"No! I thought you two had it covered here while we were dealing with our part of the problems."

Yennefer would have thought she'd dropped him a message, tried to get him to ride to her rescue or something of a similar nature. "I had it covered. Triss had other ideas."

Yennefer glanced at the entrance when the door swung open, permitting another man. After a moment and with keen determination he'd approached the dancing girl Geralt had been smiling at. Not her guy.

Geralt wasn't satisfied with her answers. "Why wouldn't you work together? I was under the impression you would do it together. How could she decide to go for this madness… She's not one for the suicide."

"You know that when it comes to the Lodge she doesn't think as clearly as she usually would. From what I can surmise, she probably thought this was her only way in to help Margarita."

"To get captured and tortured along with her? I don't believe she would think that a good idea."

"I don't believe the thought she had a choice."

"She did have a choice," he argued. "She could have done it differently. She could've waited for me as we have agreed."

"But she didn't and other than rescue her there isn't much else we can do about it. You'll have to talk to her about it when you actually have her in your eye line."

"I'll be sure to do that."

Geralt turned away from her to survey the room. His eyes slid over the girl again; she sent him a wink. He tried to remember her name, but his mind was blank, filled with worry about Triss.

"Are you sure that man is coming? What if he changed his mind?"

"He said he'd be here."

Of course that didn't mean that he would show up and Yennefer couldn't be certain of what he looked like. What if he'd seen her? Them? And hightailed it out of the place. Geralt could be intimidating to those that didn't know him – and most of those that did.

"We'll give him a few more minutes."

As if on cue, the door opened again, permitting a trio of men, none looking surly or like they'd been imprisoned for very many months.

Where the hell was he?

"How's Ciri?"

"She's fine," Geralt estimated. "Relieved to have seen Imlerith die. They killed two Crones out of three - the last one managed to escape." He paused. "She asked to bring you - she wants to talk to you."

"Wait, what— Imlerith is dead? How did you— who's they?" There was a lot that she had missed and a lot they'd done without her, it seemed. "I'm missing something big."

Geralt sighed and told her about Ciri's idea and how they executed it, how Imlerith was indeed at the Sabbath, and how Ciri and Kain took on the Crones.

She listened with batted breath. She couldn't believe they'd gone that far, that they'd made the attack without her and that they'd succeeded – she was grateful for the latter.

"Everyone's well? No one hurt?"

"Yes, we managed." He studied her a moment. "You're mad we went without you?"

She smiled to let him know that the news pleased her, that she felt better for what she thought was also risky. Not that they weren't capable of taking care of themselves. "No."

That was truthful.

"I guess I'm mad that you didn't tell me."

"It was Ciri's decision. She wanted to keep it a secret."

And she didn't trust Yennefer with it? The sorceress nodded, drawing back slightly, eyeing the prostitute that kept glancing over here, as if the fact that he was with Yennefer wasn't enough to deter her attention.

"You know her?"

He nodded. "I helped her once, not too long ago. Some drunken group were scaring away customers. She was outside asking for help, and I happened in the area, on my way somewhere. I was searching for Whoreson and any clues for his whereabouts."

"And she never rewarded you?" Yennefer asked, arching an eyebrow, smirking lightly at his heroics.

He raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Witchers don't work for free, everybody knows that. Even courtesans."

The smirk twisted into that of a smile, widening marginally.

She hadn't minded that he slept around in the past. But even that had limitations when it came to the other people in her life and the faces she was supposed to see regularly.

She wondered how long ago this particular exchange had happened, where in his newfound story did it fit and how'd it go?

Yennefer was in the middle of thinking it over when the door swung open again, this time tentatively, as though whoever had entered was unsure of what they were doing and was checking for something. He slipped further in, his eyes scanning the crowd of leering faces, brushing off the first woman to approach him until his eyes landed on Yennefer.

Their gazes connected and then his stare fell on Geralt.

He didn't think twice, he backtracked, rushing for the door as though being chased by drowners.

"That's him!"

Geralt barely managed to catch a glimpse of the man before the door swung closed. He rushed after him.

Geralt was out of the brothel after him before she was, but she was close behind them, weaving through the people in their way, being careful not to hit anyone or to knock free her cloak.

All they needed was her face and tell-tale eyes to alert a hunter.

The man wasn't the swiftest of sprinters, and soon enough Geralt's Aard knocked him off his feet. When they got to him, he was out of his mind from fear.

"No! No! Please, don't take me! Don't take me!"

Geralt looked at Yennefer, trusting she would have something to calm him with.

"Calm down, Deireadh!" she commanded. "You're drawing attention! We're not taking you back!"

He seemed to struggle and with her other hand she gestured for Geralt to let him go, to allow him his freedom so that for a time he could try and wrap his head around whatever had scared him.

"You need to calm down," Geralt said, furtively casting Axii on him. "All we need is to talk."

He nodded groggily and followed them back to the brothel with no more struggle. They sat back down in the shadowed corner. Yennefer set him between them like a petulant child she couldn't trust to behave.

Deireadh hadn't argued, either.

"All I want to know is how you got out of the prison, so that we can get in."

"Are you mad?" he spat, cheeks flush, his hands fisted. If it wasn't for Geralt's Axii's keeping him relaxed Yennefer could only assume that he'd have jumped out of chair again and fled.

"Possibly."

He stared at her, his eyes finally meeting her violet ones. "I get you in, you get me out?"

"That was the promise."

He appeared to mull it over and then nodded. "I need mead."

She rolled her eyes. "No. Time is of the essence and you've already wasted valuable time forcing us to chase you."

"I was scared. It seems that Novigrad has gained more eyes and even more treachery."

She didn't care for his excuses. "Get on with it."

Deireadh cast a glance at Geralt, and Yennefer could tell he was looking for a sympathetic ear, someone to understand his need for mead and the fact that he'd been frightened. "You're a Witcher."

Yennefer fought the urge to roll her eyes again, smiling as patiently as she could. He turned back to her, reading the thin line he'd broached and then started talking. He'd explained his proficiency with herbs, that he'd recognized by some twist of fate a specific set of mushrooms that grew in his cell and that with a combination of belladonna he'd been able to fake his death, that the Witchhunters disposed of his 'body' in the corpse pit and that he was able to make his escape through the sewers.

That was the key, then. The sewers.

The sorceress glanced across the table at Geralt. "Will we be able to go in through there?"

Deireadh hesitated, deeply in thought and then nodded.

"You're sure?"

She couldn't find any deception in his tone and his actual thoughts didn't hold it, either.

When it was clear the man wouldn't give anything else, Geralt put a handful of coins on the table in front of him.

"Get yourself some mead and whatever else you might need here," he said. "We're grateful for your help."

Deireadh's hands came up, pushing the lot of coins back in Geralts direction. "I don't need your gratitude. What I need is to get out of Novigrad. As far away as I can." He turned back to look at Yennefer.

"I promised to get you there. I will."

A look of indignation swept across his face and she could tell he wanted to yell or cry out about sorceresses being the vilest of creatures or some other kind of curse.

"It's only fair that I make sure the exchange is worthwhile."

"You tricked me!" he hissed, fixing her with a contemptuous look.

"Not at all." She stood gracefully, pulling her cloak tighter around herself. "Meet me here in a day. Same time."

He appeared to contemplate the new adjustment in the deal, his motions sulky as he snatched the coins he'd been meaning to return to Geralt and got to his feet. He stormed past her, heading for the exit, looking even shiftier than when he'd started.

She turned to the Witcher. "Think you'll be able to get us into the sewers?"

"For as long as you know where to go," he nodded. "You do, don't you?"

"I haven't personally been down there, but I've a fair idea."

She didn't wait for him to get to his feet and made her way out of the Brothel.

* * *

"Hey, lassie?" Zoltan called, knocking on Ciri's door. "Ye decent? Want a bath? Silly me forgot to ask."

Ciri groaned softly when she had to get to her feet again, opening the door with a pleasant smile.

"No need. I had a bath late last night. I might take advantage of your generosity later, though."

"All right," he said, studying her, then frowned. "Ye all right, lassie? Something wrong? Ye look… dim."

"I'm fine. It has simply been a rough few days. Well, years, really. I suspect it is starting to wear on me."

"Ye sure?" Zoltan looked doubtful. "No one upset ye now?"

She tilted her head at the man before her. "Why do you ask that?"

"The way ye look, lassie," Zoltan said, pondering on the wording. "Ye look… sad. What happened? Ye worry about Geralt? He's gonna be back soon enough."

She shook her head, smiling a little. "Not worrying about him any more than usual. I'm fine, Zoltan. I swear it."

Zoltan didn't look like he believed it, but nodded, nonetheless. "Very well, then… Ye hungry? I'll getcha something to chew on, whatever ye like. Just whistle."

"You spoil me, Zoltan," she called after him affectionately before he closed the door.

She poured herself some of the apple cider and had a sip, moving to lean against the window to watch life outside of the inn. Novigrad was always busy.

* * *

Geralt followed the sorceress outside and walked next to her. "How far is it? We have to hurry, for Triss's sake."

She couldn't agree more. She'd been waiting on this information for some time.

They weaved through the streets, fixated on where they needed to be, Geralt diligently following her. There was no need for small talk, either.

What more could they even say to one another?

It was different when they were within each other's thread and space and an opposite effect when they weren't – it also wasn't the time. She had missed him though, she always did.

Once they had a quiet spot, Yennefer waved a hand and swiftly without warning carried them to Oxenfurt.

"The door to the underground should be around here somewhere."

"All right." Geralt looked at the well she brought him to. "Down there, I suppose?" He peered at her ironically. "You want me to dive into that hole, don't you."

"How would I achieve that? On your back? You've to light my way, Geralt. Like you usually do."

For Geralt to achieve that she removed the trinket she stashed beneath the cloak. It was the size of a gold medallion and would offer a large enough splash of energy to show her the way down the tunnels once he managed to stumble upon Margarita and possibly Triss.

If the latter was even kept down there.

"All you had to activate it and it'll signal me."

She briefly showed him how and where he'd have to push on the magical device, and then handed it over.

He didn't know what he 'usually did', but refrained from saying so. He peered down into the well, trying to make anything out in the dark, then sighed.

"Fine. Try to be ready when I find them."

He didn't wait for her to answer as he swung his legs over the rims and jumped down.

He'd missed the part where she said she planned on following him down the well. Guess their miscommunications were a part of their newfound lack of deepening connection.

Yennefer leaned over to observe the darkness, to listen and wait on the sounds of his footfalls.

There was a lot of water, like an underground lake, and thankfully, it was rather clean, though the cave stunk of mold and wet stone and some old forgotten things that better left untouched.

There was no passage in sight, and he had to dive. It took him some time to find a tunnel in the dark to swim through and come out on the other side – in another cave a bit smaller. There was a way to get out of water, however, and continue the path deeper into the catacombs.

For a long while, there was nothing but abandoned caves with occasional drowners. But then he noted columns and walls that indicated something made by sentient beings. Elvish carvings and decorations were rare, but still holding in places untouched by floods or quakes.

"Well, I guess I'm on the right track, then," he murmured, picking his way.

* * *

"So how ye doin, lad?" Zoltan inquired, strolling into the room. "Need anythin?"

"No, I don't think so. Thank you."

The dwarf regarded Kain with a frown. "I've been to lassie's just now, and ye know what's funny? That ye two look the same - neither quite happy. What's the matter with ye?"

Kain pondered it a moment and decided there was no point waving him away.

"I'm not sure what I'm doing here," he confessed. "So many people around, attention, noises, everything that I've been keeping away from for so long. It just feels overwhelming."

"I see," Zoltan sighed and clucked his tongue with a sympathetic mien. "Wish I could help ye, but the only thing I can do is try to make it a bit more bearable. To make ye feel that yer among friends. Cause ye are."

He considered Kain a moment with his arms folded as though judging a new painting on his wall, then gave an inviting gesture.

"Come, lad. Have a drink with us."

"I'd rather not drink," Kain said at his retreating back.

"We've tea, too, ye know. We're not barbarians."

Out of arguments, Kain went downstairs with him.

He led him past the groups of talking people, past the giggling courtesans whose hands glided down the Cat's arms and chest as he walked by and their whispers carried teasing promises to take him to euphoria for free.

Zoltan sat him down at a secluded table that was so smartly put to survey the whole place without drawing any attention. When Zoltan returned to join him, he brought tea, his bread, and Dandelion.

"About time we meet properly," Dandelion said, smiling a charming smile. "You know my ballads - which is quite a lot, since every ballad is as personal as it gets. But I don't know anything at all - aside from curt nonsense this dwarf here has relayed to me between his chiding of our suppliers."

"Ye gods and little fishes, poet," Zoltan grumbled pouring the tea. Dandelion helped himself to Erveluce he had started before Kain came down.

"I thought Ciri would answer questions," Kain said, nodding a thanks to Zoltan.

Dandelion snorted. "That girl takes after her warden too much. At times I wonder if they're secretly related."

"Ye betcha they are," Zoltan laughed. "Through that destiny ye sing about."

"It's thiker than blood, then," Dandelion said grumpily and drank. Then considered Kain. "What about you? I heard you're a witcher like Geralt. How much like him are you?"

Kain had to chuckle, and shrugged. "Judging oneself is the hardest."

"True," Dandelion nodded. "Thus let us do it for you."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything would be the most honest answer, but I'll attempt modesty and say your story with our Ciri will suffice for tonight."

"Modesty!" Zoltan marveled, laughing.

Kain drank his tea and told them how they met in the woods, then how they bumped into each other at the village. He kept Ciri's adventures with the sirens to himself, thinking it was not his place to tell.

After a bit, Zoltan left to deal with some customers - whom he had promised a few rounds of Gwent - and Dandelion kept asking about Kaer Morhen and the Wild Hunt.

"I get how this city could feel like too much to handle when you get here from some quiet place," Dandelion said, sipping his wine languidly. "But let me - a man with a lot of experience in entertainment and art - tell you something very important: it's all a matter of the right perspective.

"See, right now you're not feeling like enjoying yourself because the change of pace is too rapid and confusing. There are ways to rectify it." He leaned in over the table, his eye twinkling cunningly as he confided: "Nothing helps better than some nice round of relaxation in a beautiful vixen's arms."

Kain gave an amused hem and a slow shake of his head. "I'm afraid I'm not _that_ kind of a witcher."

"Oh," the poet peered at him with a kind of a surprised doubt reserved for failed expectations. He drank, pondering, then had another idea. "There are other ways yet, my friend, and I'll be damned if I don't point you in the right direction." He leaned in again. "I have a lady friend that will make you forget your own name for some long and blissful moments while none of the public house kind of deals would take place. She is so skillful with her hands you will return for more revelations and blesses of pure, innocent pleasure.

"Got to tell you it's a salvation for those unfortunates who have mates to be faithful to."

He watched the boy with growing interest and eerie kind of suspicion.

"Hands," Kain mused. "What does she do, exactly?"

"The most divine massage one could ever experience. You will fly to heavens without the dirt of adultery. Isn't it great?"

"She's an elf?"

"Oh no, as human as any of us. Or…" he regarded Kain doubtfully, "well, most of us. So what do you say?"

Kain was about to decline, but temptation to follow that faint hunch and see if it was founded on anything solid was too strong.

"Where does she live?"

"I'll take you."

"I'll find it if you tell me where to go."

Dandelion smiled good-heartedly. "Very well. She lives in the village right outside of the city walls. People there will point you to her door when you ask of Melika."

"Thank you," Kain finished his tea and got up.

"Tell her I sent you," Dandelion leered. "And have a good time."


	24. Chapter 24

Ciri took her time with her meal this time, feeling like that was something she had not been able to do for a while. It would have been nice if not for the incessant thoughts that kept racing through her mind without pause. Most of them about Kain.

He'd seemed so miserable she wondered if it had been a mistake to ask him to come. He did not want to be here. And apparently, spending time in her company was a chore. Or so he had made it sound. Was it because of what Ciri had done? The man with the crossbow? Was he disgusted by her now he knew how truly vengeful and cruel she could be?

She knocked on his door once she had finished eating, intending to offer to bring him a meal as well. But Kain was not in his room.

Puzzled, she carried her empty tray downstairs to clear it away.

"Oh, Ciri, you shouldn't have," Dandelion took the tray from her and put it on the counter. "We have a maid. You go back and rest."

She gave him an affectionate smile. "You know I am not an invalid, yes? Nor am I an old lady. I do not need as much rest as everyone seems to think."

"We just want to take care of our favorite girl!" Dandelion exclaimed. "You will have to let us. No other way. We haven't seen you for so long and now wanna shower you with all the care we have collected and failed to spend."

"I appreciate it," she said earnestly because in truth, she did. It was just a lot to get used to after being on her own for so long. "Have you seen Kain? Do you know if someone has offered him anything to eat?"

"Of course, Zoltan and I did. Don't worry, we take care of your friend. He's fine."

"He is not here, though," she remarked. "Did he go out to the forest?"

Dandelion shook his head, setting the tray off the counter before wiping it. "No, not the forest. He went for a stroll. He seemed like he needed some time to... um... shed some tension."

"Alright." Sounded more cryptic than Dandelion usually was, but Ciri decided not to question it.

"I have a few errands of my own. I will be back later," she said with a small smile and headed for the door.

"But, Ciri," Dandelion turned to her with both concern and pleading. "You need to get more rest! You still look tired, and if you want to go out later, you have to be rested. Or Geralt will kill me, and Yennefer will turn me into a toad, and you know I can't create art if I'm a toad!"

Ciri paused and looked at Dandelion with affectionate exasperation. "You exaggerate. And I am not a little girl anymore, Dandelion."

"Tell that to Geralt and Yennefer - I don't think they caught up on it yet."

"I have tried. Don't worry so much, Dandelion. You will get wrinkles."

"Ah, Ciri," Dandelion rolled his eyes like a martyr. "Gods forbid. I work with my face as much as my voice."

"You will be alright." she smiled. "I will see you later. Let Geralt know I am out if he returns before I do."

"I doubt he will," Dandelion murmured, watching her go.

She headed for the stable and Kelpie, digging into the saddlebags someone had carefully put aside with the rest of her mare's gear. Within them, she found the coin purses she had been seeking.

During her last visit to Novigrad, separated from Avallac'h and still searching for Geralt and Yennefer, she had received some unexpected help from various people throughout the city. Back then she had been unable to fully thank them, but now she had time. And the means to repay them with more than words.

Bea, a friend of Dandelion's and a waitress at The Golden Sturgeon, had once concealed Ciri when the ashen-haired princess had witch hunters close on her tail. By doing so the girl had put herself at great risk. Those who corroborated with wanted individuals tended to meet their end in public at the town square. Ciri knew for her, coin was rare and hard to come by. What Ciri had managed to scrape together would make a world of difference for a woman like Bea. At least for a while.

Ciri pulled my hood up before she left Dandelion's Inn and maneuvered through the darker and less crowded side-streets of Novigrad to reach her destination. People who needed to go unnoticed had less of a risk of being discovered there. On the other hand, the alleys were crawling with criminal activity and you had to be on your guard.

There were only a few other people wandering the street she slipped onto, most of them drunks who swayed on their feet and emptied their bellies on the cobblestones. Up ahead there was a woman with a shawl draped over her head and hair. Her wailing had reached Ciri from two streets over. She was darting from foot to foot trying to get someone, anyone's, attention. When Ciri approached, the woman was on her immediately.

"Please! Please, I need help!" Her claw-like fingers dug into Ciri's upper arms and Ciri had to gently, but firmly pry her off.

"Calm yourself. What is the matter?"

Her dark eyes were wide with tears and fear. "My son! He was climbin' one of the cabinets and the blasted thing came free from the wall. Fell on top of him. I can't lift it on my own. Please help me!" She wailed once more, a bout of fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "He says he can't feel his legs."

Ciri looked around for a moment, surveying the others nearby. No one seemed to give a damn. Most were too drunk to walk anyway.

"Where is your house?" she asked and the woman took her by the arm again and began dragging her down the street.

"Down there!" she said and pointed once they were close. "At the end of the street. The door that's open."

Ciri hurried forward and stepped inside, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the poor lighting. The house was indeed a mess but she couldn't see signs of an injured boy anywhere.

The door slammed shut behind her and she heard the sound of a deadbolt sliding into place from the outside. From the semi-darkness ahead, new voices rose.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here, lads?"

"Looks like we'll get both gold and cunt tonight."

Three men appeared from the adjoining room, sneering nastily as they approached. One of them carried a knife. Ciri was not sure about the others.

Angry with herself for being lured into such a ridiculous trap, she tensed and fixed them all with a dark look. "Don't do this. Walk away."

They laughed uproariously.

"Hear that, boys? The little whore is tellin' us what to do!"

They laughed again.

"Nah, sweetheart. We're hungry. And we ain't leavin' here until we've had our fill."

She exhaled sharply. "So be it."

The first attack came from the man on her left, the one with the knife. She did not pull her sword. She should have if only to scare them off, but her conscience kept screaming. No more killing.

The man sliced out with his knife and she avoided it easily, again and again as he made clumsy attempts at catching her skin. Someone grabbed at her hood from behind and caught hair as well, trying to hold her still. She spun and punched him square in the throat, forcing him to his knees to gasp for breath.

She turned back just in time to feel the tip of the blade caress the exposed skin over her collarbones, creating a cut that instantly bled, and quite frankly, ignited her fury. She smacked the man's knife-holding hand away and jabbed at his nose with her fist repeatedly until he dropped his weapon and staggered back.

Ciri dove to the floor and picked up the knife before the third could get his paws on it. He watched her hesitantly as she pointed the blade at him.

"Leave. Now."

He ran for the bolted door and pounded on the barrier. "Oy, Teresa! Let us out!"

The deadbolt slid away and the door opened again. The man slipped outside, his gasping friend following him, clutching at his throat and fighting for breath. The third lay still on the floor, breathing, but clearly unconscious.

She tucked the knife away and stepped outside. The men and the woman she assumed was Teresa had vanished.

"Idiot," she muttered to herself as she pulled her hood back up, and groaned when she noticed how her clean, white shirt was drenched in crimson. The cut was not deep, but it had produced enough blood to make it look as though she was severely injured.

She could not go see Bea like this. As far as Novigrad went, The Golden Sturgeon was a respectable establishment. They would probably not even let her stay.

She sighed and turned back. She needed a change of clothes.

* * *

The sky was blue and the sun was shining brightly and warmly, making the village look like an oasis of heaven on sinful earth. Bees were buzzing and birds chirping as Kain strolled the path into the village, out of it among the fragrant fields, and back again. It felt good to just walk and let the thoughts and doubts be quiet.

When he felt ready, he asked about Melika. The dwarf grinned and pointed in the right direction.

"That house over yonder, see? Almost outside, the peace and quiet. Ye go and knock."

He stood at the door, going through doubts. Once again, he wasn't sure what he was doing or what he hoped for. It was one of those hunches he couldn't put to actual words. Nevertheless, he learned to trust it.

And as soon as he thought it, the pull from inside the hut became stronger, more palpable, and he didn't even knock as he went in.

And froze on the threshold while the door slowly closed behind him and some bells jingled gently in the background.

He knew it before she turned around and stared at him wide-eyed.

"Fealinn," he breathed.

Her shock lasted a mere instant, and then she rushed to him and squeezed her arms around his neck.

"Kainarel! You're alive! Gods, you're alive!"

She leaned back, holding his face in her hands, her eyes sparkling with genuine joy.

"I thought you died in that battle when I heard about Morénn. I didn't return to find out. I was a bit scared to know for sure how many of ours perished."

"I didn't think I'd see you again, either," he said, smiling. It was a bit like coming home where you had been remembered all this time. He barely ever felt anything like that.

"How come you're here?" She frowned in momentary dismay. "It's them? You're doing it again?"

"No, no. No more. I left Brokilon after the battle. She died and I felt I had nothing left there. Nothing at all."

"It's true," she said, pulling him to her kitchen by the hand. She gestured for the table where she sat. "Not like you had much of your own there to begin with."

She put two mugs and a pitcher on the table, then poured them drinks.

"I don't—"

"I know," she smiled, still pouring. "Me neither. I prefer my mind clean. Now that I work with my true gift. But this is cider. Appletrees are everywhere around here. Gods-sent nectar. I make it myself. You trust me?"

Her smile was infectious, just as it had been back in the days when their paths crossed mostly on missions.

He tried the cider and hummed in approval. "That's very good."

She grinned and drank. "How did you find me?" she asked.

"Dandelion."

"Ah," she smiled, nodding. "I should ask how you know that one, but I'm just glad you do."

"I don't really know him. I only met him today. He said you were human."

"Oh, that... Yes." She pulled on the chain around her neck and produced a garnet pendant from under her shirt. "I direct them all to think so. Desperate times."

"You've always been a master of thought suggestions. They don't even notice your ears?"

"They never have," she sneered, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "I could wear a high hairdo, and no one knew. Humans are not keen on seeing things."

"Especially not under your hypnosis."

They drank, studying each other. It was all right to just be silent - as if they had lived alongside each other all these years.

"You knew it was me when you came here?" she asked eventually - with a casual air as though they never stopped chatting.

"I had a feeling, but didn't quite think that."

She sneered shrewdly. "You're always the instinct kind of guy."

"I'm glad I came."

"I'm happy you came. Perhaps we both need it." She drank, pensive. "Why did you come? How is it through Dandelion? He likes to be friendly with useful people, and I don't see you posing as such to anyone."

Kain sighed and let her refill his mug. "It's a long story. You got time?"

"All the time in the world for you. No clients today until after sunset."

He peered at her sharply, curious. "What do they come for?"

"You know," she said simply. "But not in traditional sense. I work through my hands and they get what they seek, be it relaxation, pleasure, dreams or fantasies, revelations or new ideas. Dandelion is big on the latter, but I suppose you figure as much."

"I do."

* * *

Ciri ducked back into the inn a little time later and made her way through the clientele so she could get to the stairs. Kain had still not returned; she could sense as much. But she tried not to let that worry her.

Upstairs, she opened the door to her room and surveyed her now slightly more limited option of shirts.

She changed and used the bloodied shirt to dab at her chest, making sure the bleeding had stopped entirely before she left her room again. She had managed to avoid Dandelion coming up, but he caught her once she made her way back downstairs again.

"That was quick!" he said, glancing over with a look of relief before he went back to examine a new shipment of alcohol.

"Yes, I… forgot something," she said. "Had to double back."

"And you've changed your clothes," he remarked, his youthful face splitting in an impish grin. "This color suits your eyes. Someone you are trying to impress?"

She snorted and tugged on the hem of her shirt, uncomfortable. "Don't be ridiculous."

"What? It is not so silly to imagine!"

She stared. "That I have a potential lover in the city? It is very silly to imagine."

"Please be back before dark," he called after me as she made for the door again.

"I make no promises!"

* * *

Kain told her how he got here - all the way from the battle and up to Skellige and Kaer Morhen. She listened eagerly, nodding unwittingly at times like people do to acknowledge the tale and its twists.

When he was finished, she was quiet, mulling things over while refilling their mugs.

"I know how you feel," she said, setting her sharp, knowing gaze on him. "I know why you feel it."

He smiled meekly. "Do you treat those who seek answers?"

She smiled, reaching over the table for his hand to cover and squeeze it. "I'm a conduit for whatever the universe sends you. Those who seek shall find." She paused, reflecting a moment as she took a sip of cider. Her gaze reached deeper as though she read some scrolls inside her mind he couldn't see.

"You always trusted your path; you trusted that life would put you where you had to be - for any reason necessary. But now you're feeling confused because you resist. It seems far from what you've known before, and you resist because you doubt. And when you resist, you can't go on. You can't be on the path when you fight it."

"I don't want to fight it. I merely want to know that it's the right step."

She smiled a bit sadly. "When it comes to the most important steps, we don't always know for sure. It's the part of the game. At the most crucial times, you have to walk over the dark bottomless abyss on mere trust that there will be a bridge to support us. How big are you on trust?"

"I've been doing fine before..."

"Yes, because now is that time. I will not tell you what is right or wrong to do because you have the answers. You just need to find the trust, the faith that you will recognize them."

"Faith gets harder."

She nodded, "I know. But it's easier when you're not alone." She smiled another knowing smile, holding his eyes with hers. "No one is meant to be alone here or in any worlds, Cath. Not even you. If you're being pulled to places where you're not alone, it's not necessarily wrong if it feels so because of how you fight it." Her eyes narrowed with a ghost of a smile as she drank, watching him.

She poured herself some more, letting him digest it for a bit. Sunshine was seeping through the windows between the curtains turning her hair into a halo.

"You haven't been with anyone since her, have you?"

Kain shook his head, eyeing the mug and the cider sloshing in it as he rocked it from side to side meditatively.

"Have you ever wished we got closer back then? When you helped me with that fat coin master?"

He raised her eyes to regard her, surprised with the question, but didn't need time to ponder. "Yes. Those times on Beltane altar, I wished it was you."

Her lips twitched in another sad or melancholic kind of smile as her eyes dipped to her mug. She nodded. "You didn't have to help me back then, you risked everything in your own mission by doing it. I'm grateful." She raised her gaze to meet his. "It sobered me up. I realized I didn't have to settle for too high a price."

"It's why you left," he nodded.

"Yes. This life here might not be utterly honest - not where humans are concerned. But I'm alive, free, and I'm me. It's worth a lot, I came to discover."

She finished her cider, put the mug on the table and got up.

"Let's see if we can hurry your answers to come to you."

She beckoned him to follow and walked into another room that looked like a pantry with bunches of herbs hanging on the strings from wall to wall under the ceiling.

She peeled the carpet away on the floor revealing a basement door.

"Will anyone hear me scream?" he jibed.

She shook her head, shooting him an impish sneer, and led the way down the stairs.

* * *

Ciri made it to The Golden Sturgeon without incident this time and stepped inside. It was still a bit too early for most people's suppers, so the tavern was not terribly full.

Therefore, the few who occupied the tables looked up when she entered. Most looked away almost at once again. They had no interest. That was good.

She moseyed up to the counter and leaned over to capture the barmaid's attention.

"Pardon, may I speak to Bea?"

The pretty blonde turned to look at her.

"Sorry, love. Bea ain't in yet. She's due to come this evenin'."

She sighed and pushed away from the counter.

"Can I get you a cup of mead, love?"

Ciri shook her head but smiled. "No, thank you. Not right now."

She would have to find something else to occupy her time.

* * *

It wasn't a basement one would expect to see in a hut. The walls were draped with silky curtains, adorned by tapestries and a few torches that flickered to life when she came around and snapped her fingers. The candles placed around the room flashed and twinkled like yellow fireflies. In the middle there was something between a table and a bed, draped with sheets and with a puffy pillow roll resting on it.

She waved a hand at it, smiling at Kain with a sort of humorous challenge. "Take off your clothes and lie down." She went past him to what happened to be a fireplace nicely hidden in the dark. She lit it, then turned to him from the crackling flames framing her head to check his progress on her command. She approached, helped him out of shirt and pants, then pulled something from a small dresser at the wall. She turned to him, smiling, brandishing a strap of black fabric.

He chuckled. "Really?"

She nodded. "Part of the quest. There's nothing to see here and a whole lot to see inside."

He let her blindfold him and got down on his stomach. He heard her open some vials, the fragrances gently snuck around the room. Cinnamon, oranges, mint, wild lily…

She approached him, rubbing the oils between her palms, then lay her warm hands on him.

Her touch was tender, and yet she knew exactly where to press and what to do. His muscles unrolled beneath her dexterous fingers like uncoiling ropes. He couldn't hold back the moans of pleasure and he felt she was smiling.

It was another world what she made here around them, and he once again felt at home. His mind relaxed like his body, and thoughts were passing by slowly, languidly like clouds on a windless summer day. She watched them, listened to them, and let them pass. She was like a lake beneath them with a clear and calm surface, reflecting their path.

After a while, she helped him turn onto his back and pushed a pillow beneath his head. Kain couldn't remember ever feeling that relaxed when he didn't feel like moving at all and just lying there was so comfortable as if there was a cloud supporting his weight.

Her hands traveled down his torso, warming up and working every muscle with the same mastery. And when every cell of his body was vibrating with electrifying energy while being filled with peaceful relaxation at the same time, she revisited her oils and went for the final part of the session. She made him moan and feel like there was liquid lightnings flowing and zinging through his nerves, flashing like stars in his darkened vision and flaring like fireballs.

He forgot why he came here and where he was. The world he knew stepped away into shadows.

* * *

It felt like an eternity – there was no way to tell time in the dark of the endless tunnels and rooms and hallways – but eventually, Geralt came to a room occupied by a huge water hag. She was furious with his invasion and threw him around a great deal before he got his blade through her head up under her chin.

There was a rotten wooden panel on the wall, and the next room seemed like there had to be a passage. The wooden panel held no lever. He searched the whole room, every nook and cranny, feeling around the floor under the murky water tinted with the water hug's blood, but the lever was nowhere.

He found it in another room on another panel that didn't seem to open anything he could see. He detached the lever and managed to attach it to the needed panel. And then carefully turned it down.

At first, nothing happened. And when disappointment began to spill through his mind, something clicked in the stony walls, deep inside, and a patch of the wall tried to slide away. Due to the ages it had been here, the bricks began to fall out, and the passage crumbled open.

A bunch of ghouls waited on the other side, all through the corridors covered in wet moss and mold. Another hour – or so Geralt felt it could be – it took him to find a passage into the sewers beneath the city and a little dead-end with a broken wall.

It led him directly into a room in the dungeon they were looking for. And a group of witch hunters eager to slice him into small pieces.

When he found his path to a foully smelling room with two big cells, he was covered in a great deal of blood and barely resembled himself.

"Geralt?" Magrarita asked in a husky whisper, squinting to see in the poor light of the torches. "Is that really you?" She was too weak to move and just sat there, shivering and rocking slightly. "I could swear you are a hallucination…"

"No, it's really me," he said, shooting a glance at another cell. There was another figure lying on the floor resembling a broken doll.

With red hair.

"Triss? Triss! You hear me?" Geralt shook the cell door, but it didn't budge. It only seemed feeble, but he couldn't open it.

"You need a key, Geralt," Margarita said. "The overseer should be upstairs. Hurry, please, I don't know how badly they hurt Triss. She's been lying like that for hours… or days… I do not know, anymore…"

With his heart squeezing in fear, he hurried for the stairs and the way outside into the inner courtyard.

* * *

Ciri wandered the streets for a while, aimless in her direction, simply taking in the life and busy streets of Novigrad. There was still some activity going on despite the terror that had spread through the town lately. Mostly whores. But also a few jugglers and musicians plying their trade.

None of them held her attention for long. It dawned on Ciri she had forgotten how to be idle, how to spend free time and not have it be a fight for survival. Would she ever be able to do something as simple as have fun again? True, carefree fun like she had felt when she was a child? She feared not.

In the end, she stopped by a bookshop and perused the various titles. A lot of them she had read before while under Yennefer's care. The ones about magic, anyhow. The romance ones… Triss had given her in abundance. Ciri didn't think they had done much good. She still did not know how to romance a man. Or anyone for that matter. And the romance she had experienced, well… that was not really romance, was it? All rough hands and lewd words. Nothing like Triss's books at all.

* * *

A faint pull coaxed Kain from the peaceful dark, and as he slowly woke up, he realized he fell asleep.

Fealinn was in the chair by the fireplace; she approached him when he stirred.

"I don't know how I passed out," he confessed, sitting up.

"It's all right, you needed it exactly this way," she said. "Your body demanded what it needed. How do you feel?"

He swung his legs down and stood; she picked his clothes from the dresser's top and put it next to him, watching him dress.

"I feel much better," he said. "Renewed. But you know it, I guess."

She smiled, folding her arms. "You look it."

"How long was I out?"

"Does it matter?"

"It might."

She shrugged. "About two or three hours. The sun is setting in one."

He was buckling the swords' harness when he caught her curious gaze. He smiled, "What?"

"That witcher look is really good for you. It belongs. Fits."

"It does feel… familiar," he agreed.

"It also helps to have human ears these days," she added, but there was no envy or bitterness, just a simple voiced fact. She smiled good-naturedly and climbed the stairs, pushing the door up as she did.

They came back up, and she gave him water. Kain realized he was thirsty, and she smiled knowingly.

"Dandelion will be asking—"

She laughed, waving a dismissive hand. "He'll believe he forgot to ask."

She hugged him again at the door.

"When you need me, I'm here."

"I know. Now I know."

It was with a lighter heart that he left her hut and strolled back toward Novigrad.

* * *

Ciri spent time in the shop until the proprietor tried of her loitering without purchasing anything. Then she left, eyeing the sinking sun on the sky as she slowly made her way back towards The Golden Sturgeon.

Most of the town's more suspicious characters had come out to play at this point and more than one appeared to mistake her for a prostitute. She ignored them, in a daze of her own until she bumped into someone familiar.

Kain.

"Oh," she said awkwardly, as if he was a stranger she had run down. She blinked the feeling away. "Kain. Are you feeling better?"

Kain didn't expect to find her out and about, and gave her a baffled once-over. "I was feeling fine before, as I do now. I thought you were still at the inn."

"Dandelion said you felt tense," she supplied before shaking her head. "I have business in town. Thought I might get it out of the way while Geralt is busy elsewhere."

"Seems like that town is not a safe place for a lone girl," he remarked. "I'll go with you."

Ciri smirked. "Because a little girl such as myself needs protection?"

She did not mind him coming. As always she enjoyed his company.

They started to walk and she eventually leaned in to sniff him after a few moments of silent contemplation.

"You smell funny. Like herbs and incense."

_Right, because I was just heading to wash it off_, he thought.

"Dandelion sent me for a massage," he said, seeing no point in thinking out a lie.

"Oh," she said, thinking that was a nice gesture on Dandelion's part. Until some other thoughts seemed to snap into place.

"Is that a euphemism for a brothel?"

She wasn't sure how she felt about that. A little sick, she supposed. Which was strange because she had never thought much of prostitutes and their practices before. She knew Geralt had been to several in his day. Dandelion, too. And Ciri did not feel disgusted about that.

But with Kai… there was a feeling. And she couldn't name it. It was new.

"No, it's not."

He could tell she bristled at the expectation. He wasn't sure why, but it was a rather common reaction among women and Ciri might not be an exception.

That was a relief to Ciri. _Possibly_.

"You get sent to get a lovely massage and they try to send me to bed. The injustice, I tell you."

Her lips twitched in a slight smile.

"They worry about you. As for me, Dandelion tried to offer the attractions that he himself prefers and thinks you might not enjoy. The brothel was his first suggestion."

Ciri shrugged. "Not sure if I would enjoy it or not. Never been in one long enough to get any kind of impression."

She steered him down a narrow street, though not the same where she had been attacked before.

"We are going to see a girl named Bea. She works at a tavern close by."

It was sort of funny that she felt the need to specify about her lack of brothel experience. But Kain didn't suppose she asked Geralt or Dandelion to share theirs, either.

"You want me to come in? I can wait outside."

"Come with me. We won't stay long. She helped me last time I was here. I would like to give her my gratitude."

"All right. Has Geralt returned?"

Ciri shook her head. "No. Though if he is with Yennefer… he might be a while."

She leapt onto the front porch of The Golden Sturgeon and pushed the door open for them.

It was a lot more crowded now but Ciri could not see Bea anywhere. She gestured to Kain she was going to search for her in the crowd, then set off.

Kain had no business lingering in the doors, so he followed close on her heels. Too many heads turned when she walked by.

They found Bea eventually near the back entrance, surrounded by a small group of men. Their stance was clearly threatening.

"We gave you a chance, bitch," one of them growled, leaning menacingly over the redheaded girl.

"That's no way to talk to a lady," Ciri said, purposely shouldering her way through the barrier the men were making. "You should leave. Right now."

"Oh yeah?" one of the men stepped toward Ciri menacingly. Half of his face hid behind a bandit mask. "I suggest you stay out of it, cunt, before we decide to teach you a lesson."

"I don't suggest you do that," Kain said, pulling his medallion from his jerkin's collar.

They seized him up with sharp eyes.

"Ye witchers should stay out of people's business, ye freaks," one of them said and spat under Kain's feet. "Doncha have some shit to kill in the sewers?"

"Leave the girl be," Kain said calmly. "Or I might decide you're something that crawled out of there to disturb people."

"Aw ye little fuck-" the third of them started, but the masked one pulled him back by the shirt.

"Don' wanna get yer hands dirty with those butchers," he grumbled. "C'mon, lads."

They pushed their way past the three and out the door.

"Thank you," Bea said once the brutes were out the door.

"Thought I told you to stay out of trouble?" Ciri responded, lips curved in a smile as she lowered her hood.

"They want us to stop servin' non-humans. I'm not goin' to give into that foolishness." Bea put her hands on her shapely hips a moment then extended her arms towards Ciri so they could embrace. "It's good to see you, Ciri."

"And you," Ciri murmured into her hair before they parted.

"And who might this be?" Bea asked, looking Kain up and down, her eyes narrowing at the Witcher medallion. "Is this the infamous Geralt?"

"I'm Kain of the Cat School," he said. "I'm familiar with Geralt but I'm not him."

"Does he look old enough to be my father?" Ciri teased her, who shrugged and grinned.

"Looks can be deceiving. It is a pleasure to meet you, Kain of the Cat School. Any friend of Ciri's is a friend of mine. You are always welcome here."

She was so kind, this girl, though Ciri knew she had no true reason to be. Life had treated her unfairly, like it did most. Especially women of a certain class. But Bea seemed to always discard the cruelties that had happened to her in her youth; discard them and turn them into something beautiful. Courage and compassion.

"I can see you are in one piece," she said, looking Ciri over. "I take it the witch hunters have not yet caught up?"

Ciri had not told her the full truth of who Ciri was and who beyond the witch hunters had been pursuing her. To do so would only have put her in danger.

"I am fine," Ciri said, smiling. "I found my Geralt. And Yennefer." She looked to Kain with a glimmer of affection. "And made new friends along the way. I am better equipped at facing the dangers that follow me now."

"I am glad," Bea said, one hand resting on Ciri's arm.

"I want to thank you," Ciri added. Bea held up a hand as if to stop her but she powered through. "No, I need to, Bea. You did not have to help me that day, but you did anyway. Risked your life by doing so. I cannot put into words how grateful I am. But I hope this measly gesture will be a start."

Ciri reached into her pocket and withdrew the full coin purse, pressing it into her hand.

Bea's eyes went wide. "Oh, Ciri. No… I can't…"

"You must," Ciri insisted. "Please, Bea. It is all I have to give you at the moment."

"This is a small fortune," she continued, looking gobsmacked.

"Not nearly as much as you deserve."

Bea looked as though she would cry for a moment, but she held back and gave them a dazzling smile. Over from the bar one of the other maidens called for her, gesturing to the large crowd that had gathered and expected to be served.

"Promise you will come back to see me when… when times are better?" she asked, clutching Ciri's hand and searching her eyes.

Ciri nodded. "I promise."

She pulled Ciri in for one last hug. "Goodbye, Ciri. Goodbye, Kain of the Cat School."

Ciri turned to watch as she sashayed away and was swallowed by the crowd.

"So long," Kain said in parting, and they watched her disappear among the patrons. He looked at Ciri expectantly.

"There are others," she said, turning to Kain. "Others outside of the city. Down by the river. Do you wish to come or go back to the inn?"

"I'm going with you, and we return together."

She nodded and led the way outside again, breathing a little easier once they were free from the crowd.

"We should stop by the inn to get the horses. Walking will take a good long while," she said. "But the horses will get us there quickly."

He shrugged. "All right." He turned to study her a few moments. "You feeling better?"

"Yes," she said without looking at him. "And that makes me feel worse. I should be weeping and on my knees pleading with forgiveness. To some… higher power. Or to the soul of the man I killed.

"But I don't want to. Because I hate him. Even if he was possessed, I hate him for what he did. For what he made me think he was going to do. And so I hate myself for hating him, for being so vengeful and filled with wrath all the time. It feels like I am going to burst.

"And so I try not to think of it at all."

Kain was taken aback by her confession, but he did understand where she was coming from. What seemed bizarre to him was his role in that matter. Had it been Geralt...

But it was him. Just him.

"It's easier to stop hating someone when you understand what that someone is going through, their motivation," he said. "His world as he knew it has ended, he was so scared that he happened to be the easiest victim with a weapon at ready."

"And how do you stop being selfish?" she asked. "How do you stop being selfish so you may care about another's motivation?"

Because at the moment she found no understanding for it. Still only anger and fear.

"Don't tell me you have no compassion, because it won't be true."

"Of course, I have compassion. I even feel it for those who have hurt me. But for those who have hurt someone I… someone important… I don't know."

"I don't think he aimed to kill me. The Crone aimed to scare."

"She aimed to wound. To cause destruction. And she succeeded," Ciri said, slipping into the stable attached to the inn, locating Kelpie so she could take the horse outside.

Kain clicked his tongue and Onyx threw his head up, snorting, and headed to him.

"Why are you so scared for me? I'm not that easy to kill."

"It does not matter whether or not someone is easy to kill. All it takes is one second, one mistake, one opportunity, and any one of us could be dead. You included."

Ciri climbed onto Kelpie and directed her towards the road, keeping her to a walk while within the city walls so they would not run over any poor pedestrians.

Kain hopped onto his horse and followed her down the street, contemplating her arguments.

It was out of habits to have anyone worry and fear for his life. He didn't enjoy what came out of it.

They rode in silence until they were out of the town and onto the green pastures outside the city walls. Ciri got off Kelpie and left her a few feet from the camp up ahead where two familiar faces were conversing.

"Valdo! Aegar!" she called out when she approached, smiling warmly at the two elves, one of who was wearing facepaint.

"Ciri!" Valdo exclaimed, turning to face them. "You devil incarnate! Where have you been?"

"Come here, darling!" Aegar added, his arms extended before he caught sight of Kain over her shoulder. "Hello, what's this?"

"Valdo, Aegar, allow me to introduce Kain of the Cat School." Ciri bowed in jest, the way they did at the end of a performance. She turned to Kain. "They are part of a non-human travelling circus."

Kain nodded, looking around. "I can see that. Nice to meet you."

It made sense that they would help her. There were many common enemies, as well as interests.

"You've come in the nick of time," Valdo said. "Would have been gone this time tomorrow."

"You're leaving?"

Aagar nodded. "They are to start resettling non-humans shortly. We'd rather stay ahead of events. Problem is, we just lost two horses, and the other two are too weak to haul anything."

"Oh, we'll manage somehow," Valdo shrugged. "We don't leave until tomorrow, so naught to worry about today."

Aegar looked grim. "Yes, for some. I am off to see a merchant. There's a chance I can make a trade for a healthy horse. Wouldn't want Valdo to have anything to worry about tomorrow," he said as he turned and strolled away.

Ciri frowned. "Anything we can do to help?"

"Oh, don't fret about us," Valdo said. "We always get by somehow. You know that, Ciri."

She nodded but felt a twinge of guilt nonetheless.

"What brings you here?" Valdo continued.

She straightened a little. "I have come to apologize. I disappeared so suddenly."

"Oh, pish-posh." Valdo waved her off. "What matters is you are back and you are well."

Smiling, Ciri stepped forward and reached for yet another coin purse. "This is for you. All that you loaned me, plus a small premium."

"Ciri, you know I can't take that." He shook his head, much like Bea had done before him.

Ciri placed her hands on her hips. "And you know I shan't let you refuse."

He was silent as they stared each other down; a battle of wills. He caved eventually and only because she knew his people desperately needed it for their journey ahead.

"Thank you," he said.

She smiled again and looked to the heavens. Darkness was coming. Geralt should be back by now.

"We can't stay," she said with some regret and again Valdo waved her off.

"Not to worry, dear heart. This is a troublesome time for all of us." He gave Kain a nod and reached out to embrace Ciri ever so quickly. It was over before she had even registered his arms around her.

He strode back to the camp. She watched him for a moment longer then turned back to Kain.

"Come on. That's enough for today."

Kain regarded her, then jerked his chin toward their camp. "If you want to stay for a bit, it's fine. They're your friends and they are leaving."

Ciri shook her head a no. "I want to go back to the inn and see if Geralt and Yennefer have returned." She climbed into Kelpie's saddle. "Have you even eaten since this morning?"

"No. I'm used to one meal per day, so it's fine. Are you hungry?"

"I already ate. It's hard not to when you live with Zoltan," she said with a small affectionate smile.

She already knew she wanted to pay Whoreson Junior a visit, as well. He and Ciri had an unfinished business. But considering what had happened back at Bald Mountain, what Kain had seen her do and how she felt he'd pulled away ever since, she did not think it would be a good idea to bring him. It would have to be something she did on her own at one point or other.

They headed for the nearest bridge. "So, what do you think of Dandelion?"

"He's a fine fellow and a good friend to Geralt. Despite selling his secrets to public ear."

Ciri snorted. "Yes, I tried to call him out on that. He did not care for it."

"He has his own perception on that. He sees no harm in telling stories that inspire him."

"Know him that well already, huh?"

"I wouldn't say I know him too well. I sense people when I talk to them or watch them. He's not closed, not too hard to read."

Ciri hummed in acknowledgement and took the lead onto the bridge.

The sun had climbed behind the horizon now and dark had settled. The streets seemed even more filled with prostitutes now, all flashing thighs and coaxing words. Also accompanied by the lovely stench of vomit outside of the pubs and taverns.

She slipped off Kelpie when they reached the inn, removed her saddle and gear, and was just about to start with the brushes when the stable boy took over, insisting.

She waited for Kain, then stepped inside, looking around for familiar faces. Geralt… Yennefer… They had to be back by now, right?

"Oh, Ciri, thank gods you're back," Dandelion said, hurrying from the bar to meet them. He surveyed Ciri as if looking for injuries. "Are you all right? You've been gone so long."

"I'm fine," Ciri assured him, gently prying his fingers from her arms so he would not twist her shirt to reveal the scratch across her chest. It would do them no good to know.

Dandelion looked at Kain, his eyebrow perking with the subtlest of smiles, but he refrained from asking.

"Neither of them is back yet," he informed her. "Nor Triss."

Ciri's heart sank at the news of Geralt and Yen not being back yet.

"Where is Triss anyway?"

"You think they ever report to me?" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "She left some days ago, so did Yennefer - they always had their own business they never tell me about. Triss never returned."

She frowned, contemplating that, but no good explanations rose.

"Geralt was supposed to meet Yen at Crippled Kate's, right? Maybe I should go there. Make sure they're alright."

"You think they're still there?" Kain peered at her with an ironic expression.

"Probably not," Dandelion said, folding his arms. "They might be anywhere at all. But I would bet my lute they're not at _Crippled Kate's_."

"No. But I know how to follow a trail," she pointed out, turning and heading for the door again.

"Let them handle it," Kain reasoned. "Trust them. Just wait."

"Right," Dandelion said, folding his arms. "You better wait here."

"Handle what, exactly? They never even told me why they were meeting or why Yennefer did not have the time to see me for five minutes."

Her gaze darted from Kain to Dandelion.

"You know what they are up to?"

"What they said - tracking the Lodge members," Kain reminded. "If you add your energy to that trail, you might attract unwanted attention and ruin their mission. We don't want that."

"Listen to your smart friend, Ciri," Dandelion piped in. "Geralt won't be happy if you decide to help. He prefers you away from any of the Lodge mages."

She rolled her eyes at Dandelion. "You'd all prefer me locked away safe and sound, I know. But that is not our reality. Nor will it ever be."

She turned and headed for the stairs anyway, brushing her hair back from her face with an impatient sigh.

Dandelion grinned, looking after Ciri as she went, then turned his cunning eye to Kain.

"So, how was it?" he asked eagerly. "You do look... more relaxed."

"I am," Kain confirmed. "Thank you."

"I'll need more details," he ventured.

Kain leaned in as if to share a secret, and when he did the same, his gaze glowing with curiosity, Kain said, "It was the best massage in my life."

He groaned. "I should've known. You witchers are truly all the same when it comes to being frustrating."

"They don't teach us that at the School," Kain supplied, settling at the counter.

"A drink?" he asked.

"Water would be nice."

"That's not Geralt's drink of choice."

Kain smirked, "I bet."

Ciri went to her room and closed the door behind her, immediately moving to the window and opening it so she could climb out onto the roof.

There she sat, looking out over the street below, searching the passing faces for signs of familiarity, trying to squelch the intense urge to jump to wherever her guardians were hiding.

"Thank you for helping with Ciri," Dandelion said, pushing a glass of water Kain's way over the counter. "Backing me up."

"I didn't help with anything. She listens to me no more than any of you. She doesn't really like to listen to anyone when she's worried."

Dandelion threw a tortured look his way. "I know! And then Geralt comes back and finds her missing, and it's my fault - because it's my watch! My inn! You know? It's all so stressful. I feel like I need a vacation in some quiet place filled with divine concubines."

Kain smiled, sipping water.

"They really should be back by now..." Dandelion murmured, looking concerned. "It's not like I worry something's wrong, but what if it is? What will Ciri do with me if it is?"

"She can't blame you for the risks of his work."

"But she will," he assured, his eyes blazing. "She will."

Thirty minutes were all Ciri could manage before her nerves got the best of her. The silence and quiet were too… stifling.

She darted back down the stairs, adjusting her hair and jacket. Dandelion and Kain were at the bar.

"Let's go to the Kingfisher and see Priscilla."

Concern didn't disappear from the poet's face at Ciri's proposal. "It's another hour or so before it yet," he said. "Would you want something to eat before you go? I'd love to go myself, but I'm afraid I'm stuck here tonight. Someone needs to watch Zoltan before he loses his last breeches in Gwent."

She looked to Kain because he had eaten far less than her today. "Hungry?"

Kain pondered a moment, glanced between them. "I suppose I could do with a small meal before we go."

"Then we stay for a while longer." She took a seat beside Kain at the bar and fixed Dandelion with an impish look. "What are you serving tonight?"


	25. Chapter 25

There was a sight of magic, a direct path that showed Yennefer where she needed to go, how far and that beckoned to her like an internal voice set to lure her into the dark.

Geralt had activated the device.

She wove a hand through the air, portal opening, and stepped through. She appeared an instant later in front of Margarita. Geralt was nowhere in sight, and for a time, Yennefer was alarmed.

Where was he?

"He's gone in search of a key," Margarita explained in a relieved tone.

Her emerald dress was torn, her blonde hair matted with dirt and face littered with a series of bruises and cuts.

"Are you all right?"

"Better than Triss."

Margarita speared a look across the way to the opposite cell to indicate to what she was referring. There lay a crumpled Triss, natural red hair caked, speckled with black and her face half covered in blood.

"Triss!" Yennefer scrambled up to the cage door and shakily tried to open it, to rouse her. "Triss! Wake up!"

"It's useless," Margarita stated from behind her. "I've been trying for days!"

Days? Did that mean she was dead?

Yennefer swallowed thickly.

When Geralt returned with the key and his boots almost soaked in blood, Yennefer was kneeling next to Triss's cage. He stuck the key in and turned – it went with effort like some old and rusty mechanism, but eventually budged and clanged the lock open.

He pulled the door and let Yennefer slip in while he hovered behind her.

"How is she?" he asked.

Triss's right eye was swollen shut, her left bruised black, her neck red with marks as if she'd been choked, nails were missing from her hand and her mouth was covered in blood. She was looking right at Yennefer —seeing through her — but from the cuts on her mouth Yen could tell she couldn't speak and that moving was limited.

The black-haired sorceress knelt down beside her and brushed the hair away from her forehead where it had stuck.

She hardly responded.

"Hurt. I need to get her out of here."

"Leave me," Margarita said. "Just save her."

Geralt cast a glance at her, then leaned over Yennefer and Triss. The latter was hard to look at.

"Can you come back for Margarita? Hardly it's a good idea to lead her out on her feet the way I will be escaping."

Yennefer's head shot up at Margarita's insistence that they leave her.

That wasn't going to happen.

"Yes, but I doubt I'll be able to manage a third trip."

Despite what he'd decided Yennefer wanted him to know she had thought about it, that she wasn't inclined to leaving him behind for thrills.

"As soon as Triss and I are through the portal, count to ten and reactivate the device."

"All right," he nodded, stepping back to make space for them.

He approached Margarita when they disappeared, kneeling at her cell.

"Think you're going to be fine?"

She nodded, a bitter smile creased her mouth. "Even if it doesn't feel so now, I intend to be fine. Thank you, Geralt. I didn't believe in salvation. Not after they brought Triss in."

He scowled. "It was stupid coming here alone. She made that decision on her own. I wish I was there when she got that idea."

She smiled sadly. "She said as much. That you wouldn't approve."

"Do you know where others might be? Philippa?"

"I don't know much, witcher. Things have probably changed drastically since I've been stuck here. But once I'm out of here and we regroup, we shall find those we need to find."

He nodded. "Fair."

"I heard you found Cirilla," she added. "I congratulate you."

"Thanks."

He got up and activated Yennefer's amulet once again, hoping she'd had enough time.

There wasn't time to deposit Triss on the bed, moving her from one stone floor to that of wood at the Spearhead inn. She tensed and her eyes had closed, but that was the only acknowledgment she'd given Yennefer that they moved.

"You're safe here. I'll be back shortly."

Yennefer crouched beside her, holding a hand to her nose to make sure she was still breathing and then carefully extended a hand to summon another portal as soon as she felt that now familiar pull.

A second later, Yennefer appeared in the prison again beside Geralt.

"Are you going to be able to safely get out?"

"Don't worry about me," he said, leading Margarita out of her cell. He hooked her arm around Yennefer and stepped away. "Take care of them. Meet you at Dandelion's as soon as possible. Ciri's waiting."

Yennefer grabbed a firm hold of Margarita's waist to keep her upright, nodded and then zapped them from the confines of the prison. Instead of returning to Spearhead, she carried her straight to Dandelion's.

When the portal closed, Geralt went around the room once again to see if there was anything useful to see or pick up, then left through the sewers back the same way he had come here. Except he didn't go for the well - it was too noticeable. He found another passage through the sewers that led outside the city. It was unfortunate that Yennefer had used a portal - which left his Roach out of the equation.

Geralt washed the best he could in the river behind the town walls, then hired a boat. One of the fishermen agreed to take him to Novigrad for a price he usually took for slaying a griffin or ekimmara, no less.

Geralt didn't argue. He had no better options.

When he arrived to Novigrad, wet and stinking, the moon was already out and shining from the sky.

* * *

Dandelion made a quick work of dashing to the kitchen and arranged them two plates of fried venison and baked potatoes served with ale for Ciri and tea for Kain.

Geralt walked in when they had almost finished their meals. He looked disheveled and tired, his armor stunk of sewers and monster blood, a few fresh scratches adorned his hands and neck.

"Geralt, finally!" Dandelion rushed to him, then grimaced and cast a shifty glance around the room. "Oh no, mate, you need to change and have a bath right away. We can't have it here at night when the most of our guests come around. Let's go. Now. And you'll tell me everything."

The bard pulled him away toward the stairs.

"Wait!" Ciri called, jumping to her feet and following the two. "What happened, Geralt? Where have you been?"

Geralt didn't stop walking the stairs since Dandelion was following him and pushing him up so the Witcher didn't linger any longer where people could see and smell him.

"I met up with Yennefer," Geralt responded to Ciri's questions when they stepped into the corridor on the way to his room, "and we had to rescue Triss and Margarita. Yennefer is with them now. I told her to come here as soon as she could, so she will."

"Rescue Triss?" she asked, following them up the stairs unmindful of the smell. "What happened to Triss?"

Geralt walked into his room followed by Dandelion and Ciri, and shrugged off the swords harness, then began to unbuckle the armor.

"She infiltrated the prison where the witch hunters kept Margarita and some others – as a prisoner. She was in a dire condition when we got there. Yennefer is helping her."

"Gods," Dandelion scoffed, concerned. "Why would she do that… All she had to do was wait for you to arrive. I told her that. I'm sure Yennefer told her that."

"No one we know ever listens to reason, Dandelion," Geralt said, shooting a passing but pointed glance Ciri's way as he shrugged off his leather jerkin. "At least she survived until we got there. It might be yet all right."

Ciri felt sick at the thought of Triss being tortured, in the way she imagined the redhead had been. Bloodied and broken. Like Yennefer in the hands of Vilgelfortz.

"Are you alright?" she asked eventually "Are you hurt?"

"No, nothing serious," Geralt said, discarding his jerkin on the floor; Dandelion stepped away from it, a small wince passed through his face.

"I'll have this cleaned," he said, heading for the door. "And you need that bath. I'll be a moment."

Geralt nodded, and he left. The Witcher looked Ciri up and down.

"You don't look all that rested. What have you been up to while I was gone?"

"People keep saying that." Ciri touched her face, trying to check for sudden malformations. "I'm fine. Kain and I went to see a few people in and out of town to thank them for the help they gave me when I was last here.

"We were planning to go out and see Priscilla perform next but we can stay here instead. If Yennefer is coming…"

"Thing is, I don't know when she's coming," he said, spreading his arms. "I don't know if she is coming tonight despite my asking. I don't know where she is or how Triss is doing."

"I know she's coming," a voice replied from the doorway. They turned to see Margarita. She looked better than Geralt recalled from the prison some hours ago, but her face still carried the seal of exhaustion. "She brought me here, but not Triss. I believe they shall come here later. When Triss is able to move."

The sorceress cast a sharp, gauging eye over Ciri, and smiled.

"Nice to see you well, darling. We shall all talk when we all get our proper rest." She looked at Geralt. "Where can I ask for a bath?"

"That'd be Dandelion," he said. "He's downstairs."

She smiled. "I'm afraid I will require assistance – a messenger. For I barely feel it's wise to show my face while I'm not fully capable in the sense of my magic. Ciri, will you help me? Pass along my wish? Be a dear."

Margarita had never been the one Ciri hated most of the Lodge members. The few encounters they had in the past, she had been perfectly pleasant.

If only it wasn't for the pesky plot to possess Ciri and her future child.

She could not muster a smile for the sorceress, even now when she was wounded and vulnerable.

"Yes. I will do you that favor," Ciri said, making it perfectly clear she was not signing up for anything else.

She cast a concerned look at Geralt, then left, heading down the stairs to find Dandelion. He rushed to arrange the bath at once. It felt as though he was a tad nervous in the presence of sorceresses.

Ciri took her seat next to Kain again and picked at her food.

"Triss got herself captured apparently," she told him somberly. "She is in bad shape."

Kain gave her a confused look. "It's where Yennefer is? With her?"

"She brought her to another inn. I was under the impression they had been staying here, but I suppose not."

It figured. Geralt wouldn't be alone otherwise.

"It's unfortunate," he added in the afterthought, and finished his tea. "Is Geralt all right?"

Ciri took a tentative bite of her meal, nodding. "He says he is. Moves fine. I expect there are scratches and bruises hidden by his clothing, however. There usually is."

"Rare witchers come unscathed from the fights with anything bigger than a lone nekker. It's the norm. If he says he's fine, he is."

"I suppose."

She ate in silence a while, absentmindedly watching the other patrons.

"Remember the sleeping tonic Mousesack gave me? The one to protect my mind from invasions in the night?" Ciri took a sip of mead and swallowed. "I used what was left last night."

"Think your dreams are going to be back without it?"

"I think Eredin will. And considering what I did last time he entered my dreams… I am worried."

"What are the options? Sail to Skellige for more potion or wait for Yennefer and refuse to sleep while we do?"

"One seems more foolish than the other," she said with a small smile. "Maybe… Maybe he has given up? If unable to make the connection for so long… perhaps he has stopped trying?"

Or was that simply hopeful thinking?

Kain smiled a little, peering at her. "Is he the type to give up on anything he deems important?"

"No," she admitted. "I suppose I will stay up, after all."

"You need your sleep, you know that. What good will you be without it?"

"What good will I be in Eredin's clutches?" she countered, taking another bite of her meal.

Kain raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "He can get you through a dream? Not unless you use your power to go to him."

"That is what I mean, yes. I can stay awake until I see Yennefer. Hopefully she will be here tomorrow." Ciri prayed she would. And not just for the sake of her sleep. Ciri missed her.

"If you still want to see Priscilla's performance, we shall tend to that first. And if Yennefer's not back by the time we are, I'll stay with you."

Ciri smiled, appreciative. "Thank you."

She finished her meal and, having made sure he had eaten his, as well, stood.

"Shall we?"

"I hope you know the way," he said, following her to the door. He glanced back to see if Dandelion was around, but the bard hadn't returned from the rooms upstairs yet.

"Of course."

* * *

After dropping Margarita off at Dandelions, Yennefer returned to Triss at Spearhead. She was still on the floor. Yennefer plucked a pillow off the bed, slipped it beneath her head, and made a point of wiping the blood from her face, removing her once emerald clothing from her body now stained red with blood and dirt to give her subtle wash. In the past she'd have resisted, claimed some kind of pride, but she didn't have the energy and she could do no more than curl her hands into loose fists.

"What were you thinking," Yennefer murmured studying the dark bruises that scattered her abdomen. No spot on her porcelain skin had been left untouched and from what Yen saw of her hands, they'd removed eight out of her ten nails.

Yennefer was careful not to hurt her.

When the black-haired sorceress had her as clean as she could possible get, she sat down beside her, legs crossed, one of her broken hands rested in Yen's own, serving to pass of her energy to Triss in attempt to aid in repairing her body quicker. Triss was allergic to the supernatural additives so poultice and healing potions were out of the question.

"Sleep," Yennefer instructed once she was done and had sufficiently expelled all the energy she could spare, covering Triss with a blanket from the bed, resisting the urge to move her when Yen knew how sore she was and unsure she'd even be able to do it without help.

Triss had suffered enough and her body would need some time to pull itself together.

Triss didn't argue and before long, her pain had dragged her into a restless slumber.

* * *

It did not take them long to get to the Kingfisher Inn. It was quite packed. More so than Dandelion's, which was no surprise, truly. This was Novigrad's best according to most. It was large and spacious with balconies overlooking the stage from the second floor and with plenty of tables to choose from on the first.

Ciri bought them both a cup of tea and they found available seats just in time for Priscilla, a beautiful blonde girl in colorful garb, to enter the stage. She picked up a lute, tuned it, and slowly began playing.

The melody was very familiar. One of Dandelion's infamous ballads about Geralt and Yennefer. It would have made Ciri snicker if not for the tragic irony that was currently happening.

_You flee my dream come the morning. _

_Your scent – berries tart, lilac sweet._

_To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy. _

_Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep._

Ciri cradled her cup of tea between both hands and watched the stage with an almost childlike fascination, one shoulder resting against Kain's.

Kain had seen Dandelion perform, and he always gathered quite the crowds. This girl, despite her obvious youth, didn't fare any lower in the numbers of those eager to see her. The inn was packed, people's eyes were locked on her, some glistened with tears as she sang. A few couples hiding along the walls in the shadows were kissing, unable to withstand the mood.

He hadn't heard that particular ballad before, nor did it hold the same kind of signature Dandelion's ballads gave off. It made Kain think they might've written it together.

In any case, it was a great work, a great success. People couldn't stop clapping when she finished.

Ciri glanced around at all the weeping and cuddling couples. "More, um, sad than I had expected," she confessed.

"It's sad because it needs to touch people," he said, and sipped his tea. "Happy stories are not as popular. But it doesn't mean their true story is as sad. It's not finished yet."

"I hope not. Even though Geralt can't remember most of it at the moment."

"She's still in his life. It means it's not over yet."

"Always the optimist," Ciri smiled and sipped her tea, falling silent when Priscilla started playing again. A jauntier tune this time.

Kain didn't consider himself an optimist, but didn't argue.

The other ballad didn't have the same effect: people began to chat and pay attention to their drinks and meals.

"Apparently, Priscilla and Dandelion put on plays as well," Ciri told Kain in a hushed voice so to not disturb the performance. "Rumors are, the former managed to make Geralt participate in one." Something that amused her greatly.

Kain hemmed with mild amusement. "Sounds rather doubtful - about Geralt's participation."

"I would give anything to have seen it. It would have given me blackmail intel for years and years," she laughed. "I believe it was a romantic role as well. The things he will do for his friends."

He peered at her with disbelief, "Where do you hear all that?"

"Dandelion, of course. I don't think he was there to see it himself, but he heard it from Priscilla."

"Poets like to present the truth under their own sauce. So I would not expect their versions to be entirely correct."

"Good. Keep that in mind next time you hear a Lion Cub of Cintra poem," she grumbled, finishing her tea.

He smiled. "Who needs poems when you're right here as you truly are. Truth is always more attractive than decorated stories."

"Really?" Ciri looked at him with pleasant surprise. "I think Dandelion painted me much braver than I was. Though I don't particularly mind that part." She paused, contemplating, then asked: "Did the druids teach you to play an instrument? I always enjoyed their music. It was the drums, I think. So powerful."

"Their drums serve certain purposes rather than music for entertainment. They use rhythms for trances and meditations."

"I know. But one can still enjoy it, yes?"

Kain shrugged, "I guess so."

* * *

They hadn't been asleep too long when Triss began to move, rolling onto her back, wincing as she stared up at Yennefer from the floor. Yen sat up and looked down at her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I was tortured."

And clearly she had been.

"Why'd you go at it alone?"

"I thought I could convince Radovid to hear me out, to negotiate, to perhaps find out where—"

There was a bout of tears in her voice and Yennefer could tell that she was having a really hard time speaking. The cuts around her mouth were doing her no favors.

"Where's Geralt?"

"He should be on his way back from the Elven ruins."

"Elven ruins?" she asked, moving her mouth minimally.

"Try to sleep, Triss. Let the magic do its job."

* * *

Thank you for coming with me," Ciri said, watching him. "I know this is not what you'd prefer but… it is nice. For me it is, anyway."

Kain sighed lightly, observing the room. "I'm not quite sure what I prefer. I used to be before I met you. And then it became a bit more complicated than just knowing things for sure or preferring something over the rest."

Ciri's gaze turned curious. "The thought of me having any kind of such influence is baffling," she admitted. "Though if it means you will spend more time with me, erm, us, and actually enjoy it… I won't be complaining. I like being with you."

He chuckled. "I'm not that fascinating."

"Well, not from your point of view, obviously," she laughed. "But to the rest of us…"

Kain raised an eyebrow, "Us?"

The rest of the people. Geralt, Dandelion, Zoltan, they all ask questions."

Kain didn't ask aloud, but peered at her expectantly.

"What you're like, how you feel about certain things," she elaborated. "And then comes the how do you feel about him and why do you feel so drawn to him? Dandelion mostly wants dirty imaginary details."

Kain chuckled softly. "They're curious because it's new. I'm new, and you are a bit new to them, as well. All of it together creates questions."

"I suppose. They asked me a lot about Avallac'h in the beginning as well, but I think that was mostly because they did not like him."

"Not all of them are bound to like me, either. They won't tell you, though."

"Because I like you?" she questioned. "They had no problem expressing that emotion about Avallac'h. Though I'm starting to believe they were in the right there and me in the wrong."

"Why?"

"You know why. He's become rather more aggressive of late. Crude and even sometimes cruel. I thought he'd changed."

"He feels his control is slipping away, that drives him to be more aggressive. He tries to get his control back."

"His control over me," she pointed out, scoffing at herself. "I did not even truly see that until someone else pointed it out."

"It's not easy to see when you're in the middle of it. It's easier to notice from another perspective."

"Or when the person in question begins to lose his composure."

Ciri looked back over her shoulder when she heard the sounds of arguing over by the entrance. And her gaze stayed locked there. Two men were arguing with the proprietor who seemed unwilling to let them in. Nervous, but unwilling. Whoreson's men.

She turned more fully in her seat, absentmindedly running the tip of her tongue back and forth over the ridge of her teeth as she watched them.

How many of Whoreson's men were at his mansion right now, she wondered? How hard, or how easy, would it be to get inside?

"He used to have your full attention, which changed when you returned to Geralt."

Kain followed her gaze, scanning the scene.

"Someone you know?"

"I know the man they work for," she said, instantly rising to her feet when one of the men threw a punch at the proprietor. She did not have to go over. Several others had already come to the proprietor's aid. "Bastards."

Kain pulled her back down to sit. "Making a scene won't be wise," he reasoned. "You're too noticeable."

"Story of my life," she muttered, allowing him to pull her back down but unable to tear her eyes off the door, her whole body tense like a snake coiled to strike.

"Your appearance is made to be remembered - a perfect royal figure. It works for witchers, too. Their fame makes payment go higher.

"But you're in hiding right now. You shouldn't fight in a public place to make people remember you."

"Then perhaps I should meet up with them someplace more private," she suggested, watching as the two were tossed out on their asses. Though, in truth, it was not they she wanted. It was their boss.

"Is it that necessary? You have your plate full as it is."

"Mm," she hummed in agreement. "Of course, this crime boss, when he is not trying to kill me and Dandelion, and kidnapping our friends to torture them, he likes to cut open defenseless women in his mansion. Or hang them. Drown them. Beat them. Or rape them to death. It does not really sit well with me."

"I understand that. But you can't save everyone. You must choose your battles wisely.

If you absolutely can't leave it be for now, I won't let you go alone."

"Exterminate someone who murders innocent women for fun? I think that is a battle worth fighting any day. I have been on the receiving end of such violence. I would like to return the favor," she said, standing again and heading for the door, assuming Kain would follow. If he had meant what he said, anyway.

Kain sighed and followed, pulling his hood on as he went.

* * *

Another hour passed before Triss eventually sat up, staring blankly at the wall ahead.

"Want up onto the mattress?"

Yennefer thought she should rest, but she had her own ideas.

"I need to talk to Geralt."

"We will as soon as you're better."

"I am," she uttered stubbornly, pressing her hands to the floorboards, trying to push to her knees so she could stand. Yennefer moved to help her.

"No, you're not," she said, being careful not to take Triss's hand, but to guide her over to the bed where she could sit down since she was winded. "What all did they do? Was it Radovid?"

"Only at the end."

Yennefer relaxed her hand on Triss's arms and sat down beside her, seeing her tense.

"Are you going to tell me what drove you to do it?"

Yennefer had speculated that it was guilt. Triss shook her head.

"It doesn't matter. Did you get Margarita?"

She didn't remember that part?

"We did."

"Where is she?"

"At Dandelions with the rest."

Yennefer could have taken Triss there, but assumed with everything that had happened and how bad she looked that she'd have appreciated a time to recover so she could be more presentable.

Yen would if it were her.

Triss glanced down at herself. "Where are my clothes?"

"You can borrow something of mine."

The redhead wrinkled her nose with distaste.

* * *

The walk to Whoreson's mansion was quite the long one, but they made it there within forty minutes. The outside was crawling with his men, so they couldn't exactly charge inside.

"See any vulnerable windows?" Ciri asked Kain.

"You have to get to those windows first." Kain gestured at the mansion, "The options are to fight through them and alert everyone inside, or use magic."

He surveyed the place once again, pondering.

"There must be a patch of the fence unwatched. We have to find it and get over, and then we'll see."

He pulled her to him by the arm, wrapping his around her waist to pose as a couple. They walked past the guarded gates; the gang members barely spent any extra attention on them and went back to their silly chat. They were already tipsy and getting drunker, passing bottles between themselves. There were five of them guarding the gate, which made an impression about how highly Whoreson treasured his safety at home.

Eventually they found a part of the wall where it was rather quiet behind it. They waited for the pair of city guards to pass, and then Kain leapt lightly up the wall like a cat and crouched on it looking down.

There were a few bushes in the vicinity – good for a momentary disguise, and no guards in the immediate circle. There were a lot, however, scattered around the property, and most were patrolling in groups.

He gestured for Ciri to jump and held out a hand to catch her. He pulled her up to him, and they slipped down on the other side, shifting into the shadows to pick the best route.

"Which house you expect he's in?" he asked, glancing over the buildings. There were several.

"The one in the middle," she whispered, pointing. A few of whoreson's men were lingering outside the front door. "We could knock them out," she suggested. "Stick them in the bushes for safe-keeping?"

"I'll try something else first," he whispered, focusing his attention on the building that seemed to be a shed. He raised a hand slightly, concentrating on one spot on the roof.

Kain wiggled his fingers that felt hot and tingling, and a flare of orange flashed there. The flame began to crackle, and they heard alarmed voices from the patrols that saw it.

The group by the door worried, cautiously stepping away to check what their mates screamed about. When they saw the flame, they couldn't resist running to help put it out. They had a hard time doing it: there was no well around, and the roof wasn't easily accessed.

When the way was free, the duo hurried across the paved path and slipped inside the house.

"Show off," Ciri teased as they shuffled across the yard and into the mansion. The first floor lay empty, so they continued onto the second floor.

There… it was crowded, and they all noticed them as they stepped onto the landing.

They did not raise their weapons. They barely paid the two any more attention. Probably because they assumed the couple had gained entrance from their comrades downstairs.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" A familiar voice called from the next room over. Kain and Ciri headed that way.

Whoreson Junior was seated at a table with a pitcher of wine, rubbing his scarred chin and grinning as he looked Ciri up and down. "Didn't think I'd see you here again. Vengeful little thing, aren't you?"

She narrowed her eyes. Her hand reaching for the hilt of her sword. "Shut your mouth before I rip your tongue out. I have come back to finish what I started."

She drew her sword and advanced at him.

Whoreson immediately got to his feet, holding up both hands in defense. "Wait, wait… no, it's me. Dudu."

She hesitated, looking him up and down. "Dudu?"

She didn't seek Kain with her gaze but she still sought his advice, trying to reach for him within her mind. He knew energies. He knew… more than she did.

Whoever that man was supposed to be, he wasn't it. His energy was strikingly different from everybody else in the room. He wasn't human, not by a long shot, but he very successfully posed as one. His aura was strange, as if it were two different ones overlapping. Two personalities within one body.

"Shapeshifter," Kain whispered, eyeballing him fascinatedly. "A Doppler, aren't you."

The man nodded eagerly and shot his healthy eye to Ciri, looking pleading.

Ciri stared at Whoreson's face.

"What is wrong with you, Dudu?" she hissed, slowly sheathing her sword. "Were there no one other than Whoreson Junior you could impersonate?"

Dudu shrugged. "When we escaped here, I had no idea what to do. I knew it was only a matter of time before they'd find me. Then when Geralt told me Whoreson Junior was dead, but that not many knew, I figured that was my chance."

She eyed him curiously. "So you are a crime boss now?"

"Of course not!" Dudu exclaimed. "All of Whoreson's businesses have turned to the straight and narrow. Entirely legal. Well, for the most part." He looked at Kain. "Who is this?"

"Kain's the name," the Cat said. "I'm a witcher."

Dudu raised his eyebrows, but nodded, a small smirk touching his creased mouth. "Figures. I would expect Geralt, though. He all right?"

"Yes. He doesn't know we are here." Ciri lowered her voice. "You said Whoreson is dead? How? What happened?"

Dudu blinked. "Well, Geralt killed him," he said. "I'm surprised he did not tell you."

She cleared her throat. "Well, we have a lot of catching up to do."

He smiled, looking up at her. "I am relieved you are alive."

She smiled, too. "And I am relieved I did not slit your throat."

"We probably should leave before we blow your cover," Kain said quietly, looking from one to another. "Geralt and Ciri are staying at _Rosemary And Thyme_. You can visit when you can, and do it safely."

She nodded. "Yes, we should. Please do come visit, Dudu, if you are able."

The doppler smiled again, the smile on the face of a man she loathed.

"Take care of yourself, Ciri."

Ciri stepped out, waited for Kain to follow her, and headed downstairs.

They didn't meet any resistance or alarm from any of Whoreson's men as they walked freely from his property and past the five guards outside the gates. Once again, they didn't spare the two another glance. The moon was in its apex when they returned to the inn.

"Ah, you finally came home!" Dandelion exclaimed, greeting Ciri from behind the counter. He looked positively tired.

"Where's Zoltan?" Kain asked when they approached the bar.

"Still playing," Dandelion jerked his chin at the room; they turned and saw the dwarf at the table with a group of four, two of which were also dwarves. The other two appeared to be halflings. A battery of empty bottles lined up on the floor next to the table legs.

"Don't tell me you were waiting up?" Ciri asked, peering back at Zoltan and his play-partners with mild curiosity.

"He does this every night? How has he managed to hold onto any possessions?"

"No, not _every_ night, of course!" the poet said. "But to be fair, sometimes he wins."

She leaned over the bar counter and patted Dandelion's cheek. "You look tired, Dandy. Want me to watch over the inn while you get some shuteye?"

She tried not to look too impish. She failed.

"Oh no, there's absolutely no need," the poet grinned. "Nothing but my own self is keeping me up. I just like to maintain a level of control while Zoltan holds his game nights. Our establishment is one of the night-time kind, so that means a certain schedule. I'm used to it. It's all right. You go have rest. You all need it." He leaned in, "One of them is here. Triss and Yennefer are still missing, though. Perhaps they come back here tomorrow. In any case, you lot shall be busy when they do. Better prepare. Get some sleep. I believe Geralt is already seeing his tenth dream. At least I hope so - I haven't seen him since I arranged his bath."

"I know," she said, replicating his stance with amusement. "I was the one who asked you for her bath, remember?"

She straightened and made for the stairs. She would not sleep tonight, but no one other than Kain needed to know that.

"If one is here, chances are we get more, and you know I'm not so fond of their lot." He rolled his eyes and rectified, "Except for Yen, of course."

"We need them, Dandelion. I am not fond of them either, you know this. But needs must when the devil rides."

Dandelion merely rolled his eyes again and turned to one of the patrons approaching the bar.

Kain followed Ciri upstairs.

"Which room you sleep in tonight?" he asked. "Yours or mine?"

"I don't sleep," she reminded him. "So whichever room suits you best. Yours, I suppose."

"You are sleeping - that is the point," he argued. "So either room you feel good with shall be picked."

She stared at him. "No. We talked about this. I can't risk it."

He peered at her calmly. "Yes, we talked about this and decided I would make sure you don't zap away."

"No, we decided you would help me stay awake," she argued softly. "Kain, last time I pulled you along with me. I exposed you to Eredin. It is too dangerous."

"There's nothing else left to expose, then. You will be fine. It might not even happen. You have to try to sleep - Dandelion is right, you have busy times ahead."

She frowned. "What about you? You can't stay up guarding me?"

"I don't have to stay awake to guard you - I have a magic alarm." He tapped a finger on the Cat medallion.

Already her heart was racing, but eventually she nodded. She gestured for his room and they headed inside.

Ciri doubted she would be able to sleep with all the apprehension, but if going through the motions made Kain feel better, she would try.

She started to remove her weapons and coat while Kain closed the door behind them.

He leaned the swords against the wall next to the bed, then began to unbuckle the jerkin.

"I'll have to find an armorer tomorrow. It's hot compared to Skellige."

She looked over. "I am sure there are several competent armorers in the town. Shouldn't be too difficult."

She took a seat on the edge of the bed and began to remove her boots.

He put the jacket on the chair and toed off his boots, recalling how he was going to go for a swim before the night. If not for Whoreson's mansion…

Kain looked a tad uncomfortable. Ciri could see him out of the corner of her eye as she released her hair from its ties. "Everything alright?"

He turned and stilled for a moment taking in her looks with her hair falling freely over her shoulders. She looked different. Captivating.

"Yes. Why?"

"You appeared lost in thought." She swung her legs onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard, testing to see if she could find a state of calm and relaxation that would not send her into an immediate slumber.

"Is that alarming? To be lost in thought?"

He lay down next to her, with his hands beneath his head.

"Not necessarily." She smiled a little, watching him. "I suppose I simply struggle to read you sometimes."

"It's not all that interesting to read me," he smirked. "You'd be bored."

"I doubt that. All that knowledge." She brought two fingers to his forehead, gently pushing his bangs aside. "Must be fascinating in there."

"I don't constantly think about things I know, though. They come up when they're needed. As survival tools."

Ciri smiled, exhaling a small laugh. "I am aware. Still…"

She shifted to lay down beside him, facing him, hands under her cheek. "To me you are fascinating. And familiar, in a sense. We have had a lot of similar experiences in our lives."

A small confused sneer touched his mouth. "And it makes me fascinating? You merely aren't used to me yet, all the fascination comes from novelty."

Her brow furrowed, not in anger but contemplation. "You do that a lot," she said. "Tell me how I feel about you. It worries you that I am attached?"

He pondered. "Maybe. Because it's new to me. I'm not used to it."

"It is new to me, too. Getting attached to someone I was not introduced to as part of Geralt's circle."

"I guess I sort of am his circle - at least at being a witcher. Perhaps even age. I was there when he was young. Thinking about it makes me dizzy. I don't know how it's possible to miss five decades of one's own life."

Ciri thought about that. "Five decades are a lot. But like I told you before, I missed a few days of my life. Jumped straight into the future. Not consciously. It was as though my body sought safety and that was the only way to get it."

"But I'm not you."

(... _Elder Blood... my sweet child_...)

"Though that Crone appeared to have an opposite opinion," he added in a murmur.

"What do you mean?"

"She called me Elder Blood," he confessed. "When she cut me. I hope she lied."

Ciri propped up on her elbow, staring down at him with wide eyes. "Why would she lie?"

She could not see how the Crone would have anything to gain from such a lie. Other than to frighten him.

"She has her reasons for everything she does, just like any sentient creature out there."

He cast a passing glance over Ciri and saw a thick line of caked blood under her collarbones.

"What happened to you? And when?"

It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about. It didn't seem important.

"It's nothing. Just a scratch," she said impatiently. "Kain, what if she was not lying?"

"Any scratch can get infected or inflamed," he sat up, rubbing his hands. "Let me help before any of your friends notice and make a fuss - because that's why you hide it, don't you."

He didn't want to think about the Crone and the perspective of her sharing the true fact with him.

"I don't hide it. I just don't flaunt it. I am always covered in scratches and bruises." She sat up, as well, sensing his reluctance. "You can't ignore such a statement from a creature that powerful."

"What do you propose I do about it?"

He pulled her shirt collar down a few inches and held his other hand over her wound, focusing his magic. It slowly began to skin over leaving the dried blood behind.

Ciri closed her eyes while he worked because the sensation of his healing magic was intense.

She swallowed. "Be aware of it. Consider the possibility it might not be a lie. And that she might tell others."

Kain released her shirt collar and lay back down.

"I don't care who she tells. Whether it's true or not, it changes nothing in my life. I don't know what to do with that information. I'm just a witcher and a druid. And that's it."

"It changes everything," she said, peering down at him. "If anyone else finds out, you will be hunted. Like I am hunted. Like I have always been hunted."

"I had been hunted before. It doesn't change much."

"It changes everything," she whispered again, slipping off the bed and approaching the window, feeling a little lightheaded. She dreaded the thought of him facing more difficulties, of people seeking him out, trying to use him for their own nefarious purposes. As though his life and body were not his own.

But more than anything, selfishly, she delighted in the possibility she was not alone. That she never truly had been.

"Lie down, you need to sleep."

"I don't think that is going to happen," she said, still reeling, scrubbing a hand across her face.

"Don't make me regret telling you things I'm not supposed to voice."

"I think you were supposed to," she argued, slowly climbing back atop the bed to lay beside him. He did not want to hear it, she knew. He was probably scared. He should be.

Her hand found his atop the covers and she squeezed it gently, closing her eyes.

Kain didn't think so. He wasn't sure what compelled him to let her in on it, and it worried him. Losing self-control around her was the last thing he needed.

Behind her closed eyelids Ciri saw colors. Swirling, sparkling colors. Like a dull illusion of fireworks.

She squeezed Kain's hand a little tighter in her own. She knew she was getting ahead of herself, that her mind was being too eager, but it made sense. If it was true that Kain was of the Elder Blood, and she did not truly know how that could have come to be, then it made all the sense in the world that she had dreamed of him. That she was drawn to him and could feel him. Because _he was like her_.

It meant Ciri was no longer unique. No longer special. And what a fucking relief that would be.

Her grip on his hand was distracting, a bit more so than all things Master Linnar threw at Kain when he was learning to concentrate at the ages of three and four.

After a short while, Kain felt he could doze off.

Ciri could tell he was settling in to sleep, so she released her hold on his hand, allowing him to get comfortable.

She stayed awake for a long time, too jittery to fall asleep at once.

And when slumber finally claimed her, she descended into the dark where she did not want to be. Eredin was there. _Why was he always there? _

* * *

He watches her, and for the first time since Ciri can remember he is not smiling. His eyes are like two burning coals in the dark. Furious.

"Your Witcher killed my general," he says, voice dangerously soft. "I know it was not you. You are good, little one, but not that good. Not yet. You will be, though. Once I teach you."

She remains where she is, staying as far away from Eredin as possible. "There is nothing I want to learn from you."

Now his smile returns. Predatory. "Oh, but I have many lessons to teach you, little Swallow." He approaches, bracing his arms on either side of her. "Raising your sword against me, against my men… Tsk. Naughty."

She can't move. _Why can I not move?_ She closes her eyes. It is just a dream. Her dream. She has to wake up.

As if he can see into her mind, Eredin's lips hover over her ear. "Your dream, Zireael? What makes you think such a thing? I was impressed by your display back at Kaer Morhen. I cannot wait to see what you will do when I cut your Witcher open."

Her eyes are still closed, fists clenched at her sides. "Wake up. Kain… Kain… Kain, I need you."

* * *

Kain started awake to her screams in his head - they sounded so real he thought the whole inn heard them. His medallion was buzzing against his chest, and Ciri's face was creasing in fear. She was asleep.

He put a hand on her forehead and closed his eyes, rousing her with a mental push.

Ciri gasped awake, torn from the darkness of Eredin's presence and into the present, bounding off the bed as though he was still hot on her heels. She could still feel his breath on her ear, on the side of her neck, and shuddered, suddenly very tempted to take advantage of Zoltan's earlier offer of a bath.

"I… Was I blinking?"

"No. It's all right." Kain sat up, watching her. "You're safe. You have been all this time. He can't get you here."

She nodded, breathing a little easier. "Alright, alright…" She leaned back against the wall and momentarily braced her hands on her knees, trying to calm herself and repeat the mantra Kain had instilled in her. "He can't touch me here… He can't touch me…"

Kain studied her with mild concern and sympathy, then beckoned. "Come back here. You're fine. You will remain fine."

She obeyed, because his offer was tempting and felt comforting before she could even get to him.

She pushed away from the wall and settled onto the bed, eventually laying down beside him again. Closer than they had been before and facing him.

"I could try to help you, but you're not an ordinary human, and it might not work on you."

"Help me how?" she asked, instantly hopeful.

"Empowered suggestion, hypnosis, if you will. But you'll have to let me make you believe it."

"Anything," she breathed, looking up at him. "What do you need me to do?"

He hovered over her, touching his fingers gently to her temples, locking his eyes to hers. He felt his power flow readily to her, making his fingertips tingle.

"You've had a long, tiresome day, Ciri. You want to close your eyes and sleep."

Her eyelids seemed heavier, it was a promising sign.

"You will relax into the pillows," he continued in a meditative voice, "let your eyes close, and sleep without any dreams, because you're not alone, you're under protection. You will sleep all night and wake up rested. Now close your eyes... and let yourself sleep."

At first she could not focus on anything other than the fact Kain was leaning over her and that his hands were on her skin.

But the more she tried to relax, the softer his voice seemed to become. Ciri felt pleasantly warm, safe, and satisfied.

She didn't take her eyes off his until the command fell from his lips and her eyelids slid closed.

She slept.

Kain leaned back from her gingerly, trying to not wake her with any accidental movement, but she was truly asleep. Her face was peaceful, beautiful, as though she were a higher being that somehow happened across this inn by one in a million chance.

He lay back down, watching her for a bit, waiting for any changes in her face or in his medallion.

But there was nothing alarming.

And he closed his eyes to drift off, too.


	26. Chapter 26

When Ciri woke, her head rested atop Kain's chest and one of her arms were draped around his waist. She slowly disentangled herself, worried deep in her core that he would recoil in revulsion should he wake to find them like that.

It was a silly thought though, wasn't it? Despite Kain's reservations he did not find Ciri repulsive.

She sat up and leaned back against the headboard, watching him sleep and marveling at the fact she had managed to get through the rest of the night without any further intrusions from Eredin.

Ciri's weight shifted on the bed next to Kain, pulling him from the depths of a comfortable dreamless slumber. He didn't immediately stir, relishing in stillness for a bit longer as if teasing himself with a chance to fall asleep again.

Ciri's eyes were on him. He wondered what was in her thoughts.

"Breakfast in bed?" Ciri whispered even though she sensed he was awake. "I can go down and fetch us something."

He didn't look quite ready to get up.

"You can go have breakfast," Kain muttered lazily. "I'm not ready for food yet."

He wanted to go for a swim first. He still smelled Fealinn's oils all over himself.

"If you're certain."

Ciri leaned down over him to press a kiss to his cheek, as brave as she was able to be at the moment. "Thank you for the sleep."

Had he stayed up while she slept to make sure she was alright?

She climbed out of bed, grabbed her boots and coat, and slipped out of his room.

Kain opened his eyes, fighting the urge to rub a hand over where Ciri's lips touched - it tingled and crawled, sending a comber of gooseflesh across his spine.

He stayed down for a bit after she left, waiting for the crotch of his pants to loosen, fingertips brushing over his cheek.

When the morning discomfort passed, Kain got up and put his jacket on, leaving it open. He was going to see that armorer today.

* * *

Come the following morning, Triss had moved from the floor and was curled up beside Yennefer on the mattress. Earlier they'd debated leaving, going to Geralt – and Ciri. At last minute she'd changed her mind. The pain was still unbearable. Yennefer had offered her a bit more of a solution and then they'd fallen asleep, both in desperate need of rest.

Triss was the first to wake. Yennefer wasn't long behind her.

With what sunlight broke through the windows Yennefer was able to tell that Triss's face had healed for the most part and that the bruises had finally become a healthier shade.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I've taken a minor beating."

Yennefer smiled slightly. "Progress."

Triss seemed to agree, moving to sit up as if to prove it to herself. "Thank you for coming to get me."

"You knew I would."

She said nothing but her features were stony.

"Was it worth it?"

Triss appeared to consider a response and then rolled off the mattress. "Clothes?"

Yennefer mimicked the action, ambled over to her clothes-chest and removed a pair of her spare black pants and blouse, minus the corset since she suspected Triss' ribs were probably still repairing. She appeared to be moving with less ease. That look of distaste crossed her features once more.

"If you'd prefer to go naked…"

"No, no, this will do nicely." Triss snatched them up, making a point of pulling them on.

Yennefer got dressed, wearing the same outfit she had the last few days – only a clean version – combed her hair, applied make-up and was ready to go to Dandelion's.

They'd eat there.

Yennefer waited until Triss gave her the 'ready' signal and wove a hand through the air to recall the necessary portal.

* * *

"Zireael."

Sneaking out of the room was apparently not as easy as Ciri had expected. Avallac'h stood in the hallway, making her jump.

She knew slipping out of Kain's room carrying her boots and some of her clothes looked bad, but in reality, she had nothing to be ashamed of. Not even if something should have happened.

"Avallac'h," Ciri greeted, surprised it had taken him this long to seek her out.

"Did the feathery-one not relay my message? You were to come to my room the moment you got here," the elf said coolly.

Ciri shrugged. "I got busy."

"You were avoiding me."

"That, too."

They stared each other down for a long moment, and it felt strange doing so. In the end, he was the one to speak first. "Tell your Witcher to come see me when he is awake. We have things to discuss."

Ciri frowned. "What things?"

"None of your concern," Avallac'h said, turning and heading back for the stairs leading to the third floor. Ciri stood watching him until he disappeared around the corner, then entered her own room to freshen up.

* * *

Kain buckled up the swords harness and stepped out of the room. The corridor was quiet. He figured everyone was still sleeping, even Geralt. He'd had a hard day.

Downstairs, however, wasn't a sleepy kingdom. Two maids, rather young but sturdily built as any healthy village girls used to hard work since early age, were washing the floors and picking up broken bottles and dropped forks and knives. A middle-aged man wearing an apron in the colors of the inn (or cabaret that it had been last night) was finishing cleaning the tables.

Behind the counter was Priscilla, wearing an attire in the same style as her scene garment but in different colors. Her blonde head was adorned with a feathery hat to fit with the rest of the attire.

She saw Kain and smiled. "Greetings! You are that young witcher, Ciri's friend I've heard about from Zoltan, aren't you?"

"I am." he returned her smile. "I'm Kain."

"I think I saw you last night at Kingfisher's..."

"We've been there."

She leaned onto the counter on her elbows, smiling pleasantly. "What would you like for breakfast, Kain?"

"Thank you, but I'll take a stroll first."

"Oh," she straightened up. "All right. But I could order it prepared while you're out. So what would you like?"

"Something simple will be fine."

"I like to have pancakes," she smiled cunningly. "You'll like it. Rather simple."

"Thank you." Kain nodded and went outside.

Once Ciri deemed she looked decent enough, she made her way downstairs. From the looks of it, none of her people were up and about yet, except for Priscilla who was working the counter.

"Ciri," she exclaimed upon seeing her, smiling brightly. They were not so close yet a hug would come naturally.

"Good morning, Priscilla. Are you well?"

She nodded as Ciri took a seat. "Can't complain. I saw your friend just now. He is very handsome, isn't he?"

"He is," Ciri agreed. She did not think Priscilla was as much a gossip as Dandelion, but they had a similar energy that told her she enjoyed romance among the people as much as he did.

"Can I get you something to eat?"

"I'd love some toasted bread," Ciri said, resting her elbows on the counter.

"Of course. I will get you some right away."

Margarita descended the stairs like a queen would to face her court, and approached the counter.

Priscilla cast a slightly confused but ready-to-serve look at the witch, and Margarita smiled a queen-at-court smile that had little to do with warmth or human emotion. "Darling, would you arrange a nice breakfast for me? Eggs, fruit and a herbal tea, as well as some freshly baked bread are a must. Be a dear."

She turned and walked away with the same royal pace.

Ciri eyed the sorceress out of the corner of her eye. It was too early to face her directly.

"Never seen her here before," Priscilla said once she and Ciri were alone again. "She looks like she should be in a castle somewhere."

"Soon enough I am sure she will be," Ciri murmured. "Want me to help you with breakfast?"

Priscilla smiled and shook her head. "No, dear. The chef and I can handle it."

She disappeared into the kitchen and Ciri was left to her lonesome.

* * *

Yennefer and Triss materialized in Dandelion's inn somewhere out of the way. An area that had been cleared out for the purpose of their magical arrival and so curious eyes wouldn't be able to tell. Just in case.

Triss walked ahead of Yennefer out of the quiet space, the latter trailed behind her, observing how uncomfortable she not only looked in Yennefer's clothing but her skin as well.

Triss was the first to see Margarita, to lock eyes, and then scurry over. They didn't embrace but Yennefer could tell that despite it all their connection had only deepened.

Yennefer, on the other hand, had smiled within Margarita's direction, contented to see that she too had managed to heal herself, if not better than what she had done for Triss.

"You've had a change of color choices?" Yennefer heard Margarita ask with airy casualness.

Triss glanced down at her chest, at the dark wash and colorless fabrics Yennefer adored. "Not in the least. My own clothes were ruined."

Neither said anymore on that particular topic, discussing the likes of breakfast and in quiet what they'd experienced and what they were willing to share with the rest of the common folk. To Yennefer, this was a surprise considering Ciri was in the background but who could blame Triss for the one track? A lot had happened and she was recovering, if not physically, then mentally.

Yennefer hurried over to Ciri and threw her arms around her, pulling her into an overdue embrace. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

Ciri slipped off her chair the moment she saw Yennefer and Triss descend the stairs, but waited dutifully until her mother hurried her way before she wrapped her arms around her, burying her face in her hair.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Yennefer held Ciri close longer than she was sure she appreciated and then gently let her go, allowing her hands to fall to Ciri's arms so that she could keep touching her.

"I'm fine. Are you? Are you hurt? It feels like a lifetime since I last saw you and not just a couple of days."

"I am not the one who broke into a prison," Ciri reminded her, though she was smiling. "I am fine. Triss is better?"

"Nor did I," Yennefer assured – not in the way it mattered. Geralt had done the heavy lifting. "Given everything she endured at the hands of the witch hunters it's a miracle she's here today. I believe it'll take a while before she's fully healed."

She'd made that decision herself though and unfortunately she'd have to live with the choice.

"Has Geralt made it back?"

"Yes. I think he is still sleeping. Last I saw him he was going to have a bath." Ciri looked over her shoulder at Triss and Margarita. "Were they the only ones left alive?"

"Unfortunately."

Yennefer didn't appreciate seeing Margarita's students' burn so cruelly. There had been nothing they could do and by the time they'd brought the mounted troops it had been too late.

"Was he well?"

"Geralt? Yes, I believe so. Some scratches and bruises, and dead tired but… no worse than usual."

Yennefer was relieved to hear that. She'd been confident in his abilities, but couldn't help be worried anyway that he might get caught up with the Witch hunters and that they'd overpower him.

"How's your boy? Is he still around?"

"He's not my boy," Ciri hissed under her breath, embarrassed. "I don't own him. But he's fine. A little uncomfortable in the city, I think, but other than that he is good."

"If he isn't your boy, then why is he here? Why would he endure the likes of a setting that makes him prickly? He that resolute to fight The Wild Hunt?"

"He is very noble," Ciri said, refusing to meet Yennefer's gaze for a few seconds. "And he is a Witcher. They see it as their duty to slay monsters."

"If that were true then where is Lambert?" Lambert fled and as unhappy as Yennefer was about losing in numbers, given he'd carried Keira with him, she also understood it. There was a lot to lose, and a lot of which they already had. This _boy_ had to know that and yet he was still willing to risk it. "You're cooking up excuses. He's here for you. I haven't spoken to him more than two sentences and I already know that."

Ciri did not want to admit such a thing out loud. What if she jinxed herself by doing so. "He's just a very good man who knows right from wrong." She took a seat again, eyeing Yennefer. "There is something else I must talk to you about. And I hate adding pressure on you during these stressful times but I don't know who else to ask."

Yennefer arched a brow briefly, turning toward Ciri so that she could focus all her attention on the girl, smiling as gently as she could to put her at ease. She'd never been good at that. "What's on your mind?"

"I need a sleeping draught. The kind that will keep someone from entering my mind while I am asleep. Are you able to make that."

"Of course. Who are you trying to escape?"

"Eredin," Ciri said honestly. "He enters my dreams at night. Makes me...do things."

"What kind of things? Are you sure it's not manifestations of nightmares?"

"They are not nightmares. He's there. I know." Ciri did not really want to elaborate on whatever happened in said dreams. Letting Geralt in on a few details had been traumatizing enough. "I just need a way to keep him out. Mousesack made me a tincture back at Kaer Morhen. It worked well. But I have none left."

Yennefer touched a hand to Ciri's face, observing the circles beneath her green eyes, the subtle suggestion that what she was dealing with had been accumulative and she was still catching up.

"I'll make you your draught and then find a more permanent means to help keep him out until we've taken care of him. Is that all that there is?"

Ciri nodded and smiled, leaning into Yennefer's hand. "That is all. For now, anyway."

Yennefer stroked her hand against the side of Ciri's face, drawing her into another hug as if to shield away the hold Eredin might have on her at this very moment. After a while, Yennefer drew back again, cast a glance in the direction where the two witches had been and noticed that Triss had disappeared. She'd probably gone in search of Geralt. Yennefer bristled.

"I'll go throw together your draught. You'll have it by tonight."

With that, she wove a hand through the air, recalled that golden light and slipped through to return to her workstation at Spearhead.

Ciri hated that she'd sent Yennefer away so quickly. And it seemed Triss had gone as well.

Priscilla returned and looked around. "Thought I saw a flash of light."

"Sorceresses," Ciri explained. She seemed to accept.

"Your breakfast should be ready soon. Unless you want me to keep it warm so you can eat with your man-friend?"

Ciri flushed. "No, no, that's alright. I'm hungry now."

* * *

Kain came back to ROSEMARY AND THYME after a bit more than an hour, having used his time for not just a swim he had intended to begin with, but also visiting Griffin and then the armorer. The latter said Kain could pick up his order before he was closing after the sunset at the earliest.

Back at Dandelion's, Ciri was at the counter finishing her breakfast while Priscilla was telling her something, her elbows on the counter, her hands flailing to make the story more expressive. Her eyes shot to Kain, and she grinned, shutting her story down.

"Hey, you're back! Right on time, the pancakes are ready. I'll be a moment." She left for the kitchen, and Kain settled at the counter next to Ciri.

"Hey, Archer," Ciri smiled, leaning one elbow on the counter, fork in her other hand. "Have you been swimming?"

His hair looked slightly damp.

"I have," Kain confirmed. "And I've been to the armorer. Is Geralt up yet?"

"If he is, he has yet to come down. Yennefer was here, though. And Triss."

"Are they all right?"

"Yennefer is. Triss is healing. Not sure where she got to."

Ciri glanced over her shoulder. Margarita was sitting alone now.

"I would look for Triss around Geralt's room," Kain murmured, his eyes flicked to Priscilla who emerged from the kitchen with a plate of pancakes and a bowl of honey.

"There you go," she said, smiling. "As you asked – simple."

"Thank you, I appreciate the effort."

"Oh, it's nothing," she waved a hand and tipped a wink to Ciri.

"You may have a point there," Ciri said, taking the last bite of her breakfast and pushing the plate aside. "Yennefer is going to provide me with a potion. So, if all goes right, I won't disturb your sleep anymore."

"You've nothing to apologize for," Kain said, ignoring Priscilla's eager, hungry gaze bouncing between the two, absorbing the scene. "I'm happy you managed to sleep. You needed it."

He bit into a pancake dipped in honey and gave a nod to Priscilla.

"It's really good."

Ciri smiled to herself. This moment seemed unreal. Simply sitting with a handsome boy, eating breakfast, without danger snapping at their heels. Could this be what life would be like if they survived The Hunt?

Too far, too soon, she supposed. Still, it was nice to dream.

"I should go check on Geralt. See if he is alright or if he wants breakfast in his room."

"Let him come out when he's ready," Kain said, dipping another pancake in honey. "If no one woke him yet, he deserves to sleep in a bit longer."

"I'm sure he'll get up before Dandelion and Zoltan," Priscilla said, rolling her eyes.

"Well, seeing as Triss is missing..." It was likely she had sought Ciri's mentor out.

Ciri took a sip of her tea, smiling at Priscilla. "I believe you are right on that count. Did Zoltan win or lose last night?"

"Oh, I have no idea," she confessed. "He was still at it when I came back, and I went to my room. I had to sleep. When I woke up, they were still asleep, so I'll find out some details when they're up – way past noon."

"So how are things going with you and Dandelion?" Ciri asked casually. She had always thought any girl of Dandelion's could not possess much jealousy. She still did not know whether that pertained to Priscilla.

Priscilla rolled her eyes again. "Not that we see each other enough for anything to be, if you know what I mean. He's got performances, and then I do, and we don't seem to meet in the middle all that much. It's a sad, sad life, Ciri, when you have a cabaret to manage and performances to arrange."

"Um, yes," Ciri agreed, though she honestly had no experience in that area. "But you love your art. It is a part of who you are. Your life would not be as good were you not able to write and sing and perform, am I right?"

It is how Ciri felt when she was denied use of her powers.

"Of course not," Priscilla said. "I wouldn't be able to live without stage and music. It's what I feel I was meant to do."

* * *

Soft, tender strokes up and down Geralt's back coaxed him awake, very slowly. He didn't immediately know what was casting the sleep away, but the image of black curls and a dangerous smile flashed in his mind before he opened his eyes, craning his neck from the pillow to look at the figure sitting on the edge of his bed.

The clothes fit the profile, but the stream of reddish chestnut hair contradicted the image.

Blinking, Geralt rose on his elbows.

"Triss? Triss, are you all right?"

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she was smiling, laughing nervously, shaking in his arms when he embraced her. She wrapped her arms around Geralt's neck firmly and hid her face against his cheek.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "I'll be fine, don't worry. Thank you for coming. Thank you for saving us. I'm so glad you came… We did it, Geralt. We found Margarita. It's all that matters."

"No, no, Triss, it's not all that matters! What are you saying? Look at you! I saw you in that cell, you looked dead! Dead, you hear me? You gave me a big scare. I couldn't believe you'd do that to me!"

"Oh, Geralt… I'm so sorry you had to see it… I just… I felt like I had no other, better choice. I'm sorry I made you go through it, but I had to try! For all of us, for Ciri. I had to, do you understand me? Please, please, Geralt, tell me you understand! Please… Please, tell me…"

"Don't cry, Triss, it's all right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, I was scared for you. I didn't want to lose you to those animals. Don't you ever do this again! You can't do these things alone! It's suicide!"

"Forgive me, Geralt, I beg your forgiveness, I hope with all my heart we don't get another tough trial like that. Thank you. I know you saved me. I knew you'd come."

"Of course I would. I always would."

She sat back, and Geralt examined her face that still betrayed the traces of bruises and a few cuts, way on their way of healing up nicely. He brushed his thumb over her cheek tenderly, frowning.

"What did they do to you…"

She shook her head subtly, "It's all right now. Don't think about it. It's all right. I promise. How is Ciri? I heard you went for Imlerith! That's something to chide you two for! What were you thinking?"

Geralt sighed. "I had to help Ciri. She'd go alone, you know her. I couldn't let it happen."

She took his face in her hands. "I'm happy you're all right. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't. Is she fine? A little better now that he's dead?"

"She seems to be. But it was just one small step."

"I know, I know…"

Geralt peered at her soberly. "Have you found out anything about others? The Lodge?"

Her face got sadder. "No good news there, I'm afraid. Ida outright refused, while Francesca wouldn't budge from her little realm with the war raging. We haven't been able to contact Fringilla, don't know anything about her."

"And I suppose there's nothing from Keira, anymore?"

"You suspect right, she decided to stay away from the Hunt business."

He nodded. "She told me as much during the pyres. What of the rest of the Lodge?"

"Well, Yennefer was looking into Rita's whereabouts, and I had to find Philippa. But it got a bit tangled. We found Rita first."

"What of Philippa? Any ideas? Any leads at all?"

A small smile creased her lips. "I've been able to find out some interesting things. In short, she's been here, at this inn, all along and right under our noses. Transformed, seated on her perch with a dimeritium band on her leg."

Geralt raised his eyebrows, "Zoltan's owl?"

She nodded.

"Why isn't she here, anymore?"

"Because Zoltan lost her in a card game the very day we arrived. We were late."

He sighed, lowering back on the pillow, rubbing his forehead. "Argh, Zoltan…"

"A man showed up here, fleeced Zoltan bare, then proposed they play for the owl. Naturally, he won, then politely thanked Zoltan for the game and left with the bird."

"How are we supposed to find him?"

"He's not from around here, no one knows anything. But it's not all that grim – see, we have a feather."

Geralt looked up at her, deadpan. "A feather from the owl that was Philippa. Think to track her down with it?"

"Yes, I was thinking hydromancy and a form of sortilege. We need a fountain where no one will disturb us."

He got up on his elbows. "You sure you're up for this? You still look weak. You need to heal. Maybe I'll go with Yen—"

"I'm fine, really," she said, her hand found and squeezed his. "I promise. Let me do this one right. I need to do this. For Ciri. And for myself. Will you help me?"

Geralt smiled. "Of course. Let me get ready, and we shall go."

She returned the smile and leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you. I'll be waiting at Rita's room – we share it now. I'll… need to change and we go when you're ready. Thank you, Geralt. It means the world to me."

He nodded, and watched her go for the door and out. He rubbed his neck, stretched, and got up to dress.

In a few minutes, Geralt came downstairs all ready, with his swords sticking up over his shoulder. Ciri and Kain were at the counter with Priscilla. No one else was around.

Ciri rose again when Geralt came down the stairs, looking tired but otherwise well.

"Geralt, there you are." She approached him to look him over. Of course, no injuries could be seen when he was sporting his full-cover armor. "How are you feeling? Did you get some rest?"

Geralt smiled, "I'm fine. Nothing to worry about. Are you two all right? Found no trouble so far?"

Ciri's eyes widened ever so slightly, like a doe trying to look even more innocent.

"Um, no, no trouble." She glanced over at Kain. "We're both fine. Yen was here. Did she speak to you?"

"No, I haven't seen her. Triss spoke to me. She has an idea how to find Philippa, she asked me to help her."

"Is she imprisoned as well?" Ciri asked with a frown.

"We don't know yet. Triss needs to use magic to find out."

He proceeded to the counter, noticing from the corner of his eye how Margarita headed upstairs with her plate.

He nodded to Kain and smiled at Priscilla's greeting.

"Would you like some pancakes, Geralt? Today's morning's special."

"I'd love to, thank you."

"Coming right up," she bowed with flourish and went to the kitchen.

"Do you want me to come?" Ciri followed him back to the counter, coming to a halt next to Kain. "Want us to come?"

"Triss and I will be fine. We don't want to expose you more than we have to until the Hunt is dealt with. You're too vivid a memory for those who see you."

Ciri frowned, though without any real heat. "You say that as if I perform acrobatics naked in the middle of the town square whenever I go out."

Geralt had to laugh, along with Kain as they exchanged meaningful glances.

"Just one look at your hair and your ethereal face with those blazing emerald eyes is enough to etch all that into people's minds," Priscilla smiled radiantly and put a plate of pancakes in front of Geralt next to a bowl with honey.

"What she said," Geralt smirked and dug in.

Ciri snorted. "You all exaggerate."

She took her seat again, flashing Priscilla a grateful smile as she pushed the kettle of tea Ciri's way so she could refill her cup.

"How could we, Your Royal Highness," Geralt grinned, and bit into the pancake.

Ciri glared at her mentor while she poured my tea, nearly spilling the liquid over the rim of the cup as a result. "Evil man."

He shrugged nonchalantly, swallowing the pancake. "I've been called worse." His eyes flicked between them. "Has anyone seen Avallac'h? Is he even alive up there?"

"We have a meal prepared and delivered to his door twice a day," Priscilla said. "Sometimes he eats, sometimes he doesn't."

Ciri sipped her tea and nodded. "Oh, yes. I almost forgot. He wants to speak with you, Geralt. Asked me to give you the message."

Geralt directed a surprised look her way. "You spoke to him? Was he polite or we need to have another chat about manners?"

"He was fine. Cold, but fine." She eyed the cup, tracing her fingertip along the pattern carved into the wood. "We barely exchanged a few sentences before he left."

"Did he say anything else?"

"Only that there are things the two of you need to discuss. Things that apparently are none of my business."

"I see." Geralt took another pancake and dipped it in honey. "I shall squeeze him into my schedule." He looked at Ciri. "You sleeping better?"

Ciri threw a quick glance at Kain before meeting Geralt's gaze again. "I've been alright. Yennefer is making me another sleeping draught."

Geralt noticed the look she shot Kain's way, which made him wonder.

Would she even tell him if...

He nodded and made himself smile. "Good."

Ciri leaned in close because she did not want anyone else to overhear. "Did you know Dudu is impersonating Whoreson Junior now?"

"No, I didn't know he picked that one, but I could've guessed if I heard Whoreson's still around."

* * *

Throwing the sleeping draught together hadn't taken long as it was something Yennefer had done quite often over the years for other villagers. She'd made it stronger in order to serve the purpose that Ciri needed and had measured it out into five vials.

That way Ciri knew she had those days and could rest easy.

Yennefer would make her more as was needed.

And when there was more time, she'd even spell Ciri a magical trinket. Unfortunately, Yennefer wasn't prepared and what she needed wasn't available since the last time she'd used what devices she had it was to help make the Witchers invisible during their battle.

Yennefer gathered together the vials in a velvet pouch, wove a hand to the air and appeared in the Inn a second later. She headed back downstairs. Only this time Ciri, Kain and Geralt were there and the witches were gone. Where to? Were they off discussing plans without her or reminiscing over what had happened?

Yennefer made her way down.

"Is it true you killed him?" Ciri whispered, squeezing Geralt's hand in gratitude before he could even answer. "I am glad."

"I couldn't let him live. Even though he begged me to."

"He deserved no mercy," Ciri said, glancing over Geralt's shoulder. "Yennefer! That was quick."

"I'm a quick worker." The sorceress appeared at their side, extending the velvet pouch toward Ciri. "Hope it helps."

Yennefer hadn't bothered to be sly about it assuming she'd have told Geralt that she wasn't sleeping well and how Triss had arrived without Yennefer being present.

Geralt continued to eat in silence, seemingly preoccupied with his thoughts. Kain quietly finished his tea.

"Thank you," Ciri told her happily, casting a brief glance into the pouch before looking up at her two parents expectantly. They were not talking. Why were they not talking? Had something happened during the prison break?

Yennefer smiled at Ciri and then turned her attention to Geralt, moving to his left while he ate. "Triss found you?"

"She did," he confirmed. "Thank you for helping her. You saved her life."

"As did you." She peered around once more as if expecting to see her appear in the dining hall. "Where is she? Margarita?"

"They must be in their room. Triss said they share it."

Of course she'd move so that she was closest to Geralt. She hadn't been staying there before, choosing to hole away with her previous rat pack. Oh well.

"She said she needed to talk to you. I assume she did?"

Geralt nodded. "She has an idea how to find Philippa."

"And that is?"

"She has an owl feather from Philippa's transformation. With the help of magic Triss intends to find out her whereabouts."

"She's working on that right now?"

"She's waiting for me," he confessed. "She asked me to accompany her."

"She hardly even knows where to go yet. Also, she's injured."

"She feels better and wants to do her part," Geralt said. "I'll look after her. She'll be fine."

"She already did her part and almost died for it. What has she asked you to do?"

"To go with her." Geralt looked at Yennefer pointedly. "Why would I refuse to help? She looked like she could handle one tracking spell. I'll do the rest - follow the lead and bring her here."

"I never thought for a second that you'd refuse to help."

Triss knew that, too, which is why she was so adamant to come here and hadn't breathed a word of her plans to Yennefer. Did she even know that his head was scrambled? Someone had told her?

"I'll join you."

Geralt spread his arms momentarily. "It's not for me to decide. However, I wouldn't recommend it - you're widely known and easily recognized. Like Ciri. Better stay hidden. We don't need the witch hunters to know you're around. We'll be fine, I promise."

"They will be on the lookout for Triss," Ciri pointed out softly. "Not many manage to escape that prison."

It wasn't so much the witch hunters that bothered Yennefer but how hard Triss was going to milk this situation in her favor. "As Ciri said. If anyone should go with you – it should probably be the boy. Or Ciri."

"Ciri is out of question," Geralt said. "We play it safe as much as we can."

"I'll go if it's needed," Kain put in.

Geralt nodded and looked at Yennefer. "We'll be fine. Don't worry. Spend some time with Ciri, she missed you."

"I did miss you," Ciri said, looking up at Yennefer. "But I understand if you have things to do. Hectic times and all."

"I missed you, too." Yennefer gifted Ciri a smile, aware that she'd probably wanted to spend time with her boy while things were quiet and less fraught with danger.

She didn't have to spell it out for Yennefer to know. Yen had been there. She _was_ there.

"I'll go find Triss… see what she has to say before I decide."

There was nothing for her to decide in this particular matter, but Geralt kept that to himself.

He estimated Kain had finished his breakfast. Geralt got up, and so did Kain, as though catching the older witcher's thoughts and intentions.

"I'll get Triss, and we shall go," Geralt said. "No need to waste time."

Kain nodded and Geralt went for the stairs.

Yennefer and Geralt headed for the stairs and when Kain stood is was clear he was going to accompany whoever decided to go find Philippa. Ciri turned to him. "If you find her, be careful. Don't let her know the extent of your abilities. She hungers for power and will not hesitate to try and take advantage of you."

Kain frowned pensively. "You propose I don't use my power at all? I might have to. I'd rather expose myself than let Geralt get hurt without my aid."

"In an emergency, of course, do what you must. I am just saying don't give her any more information about yourself than is absolutely necessary. I do not trust that woman. Not one bit."

"There's nothing you and I can do about that woman or anyone else from the Lodge," Kain responded. "We'll have to deal with trouble as it comes, not before it does."

Ciri got to her feet as well and took his face in her hands. "That does not mean you cannot be cautious. Please?"

Kain gave a faint simper. "You don't trust me to be cautious? I'm flattered."

"I don't trust her not to sniff out how special you are," Ciri said. "Keep it in mind."

Kain sighed tiredly, "I'm not special. I'm just a half-blood witcher."

* * *

Margarita and Triss were hunched in a circle, hands locked together, their eyes closed as they meditated and sought the plains for their fellow sister in magical arms.

Yennefer didn't disturb either.

She perched against the side of the doorframe, staring at them as they worked together. She could tell Triss was taking a bit of strain and that the usual ease with which she cased was eradicated.

It probably would be for a few more days.

Another minute passed and then her eyes snapped open, locking on Yennefer over Margarita's shoulder.

"You found her?"

Triss looked drained, her eyes dipping to the ground and then she got to her feet. Yennefer could tell that she still struggled to do so. Margarita made no attempt to help her and neither did Yennefer.

"I did," Triss announced, glancing past Yennefer to fix her gaze on Geralt as he appeared behind her.

She walked around the room, found a cloak which she pulled over her shoulders, making a point of securing the ribbons around her neck to keep it from falling off.

"We can go," she announced and took a step toward the entrance.

"You should stay. You haven't fully recovered."

Triss bristled and her eyes narrowed indignantly.

"I'm more than capable—"

"No you're not, not in this condition and unless you want to play damsel in distress again."

Her mouth opened, snapped shut and opened again, the second time making her wince.

"I suppose you'd rather go in my stead?"

Yennefer smirked and then shrugged.

"Of the three of us, that would probably be best. But as Ciri pointed out, we're being hunted. It's probably best if we stay locked away for a while and let the chaos die down."

Triss looked unmoved, disappointed that her individual time with her white knight was possibly to be diminished. She could get in line. She stared straight past Yennefer and met his gaze again, as if hopeful he'd intrude and assure her that the idea didn't have any merit and that he wanted her to go.

With all gazes crossing on Geralt, he felt annoyed.

"Let's stick to the plan," he suggested. "Triss will go help me with Philippa. We'll be quick."

Triss beamed and put her cloak on. She had changed from what seemed to be Yennefer's clothes and looked more capable of blending in the crowd.

Margarita smiled, folding her arms. "Then that's settled." She looked at Yennefer and shrugged. "We'll be ready to help through the distance if needed. Just call."

"Thank you," Triss said, smiling, and they went downstairs.

Ciri let her hands fall away from Kain's face, one resting on his chest where she could faintly feel his heart beat against her palm. She smiled to herself. He may not consider himself special, but Elder Blood or not, he truly was.

After a short while, she stepped back. "Be safe," she said, then climbed the stairs for her room.

A bit perplexed, Kain watched her go. She made him wonder what she was thinking about when she looked at him like that - with that strange kind of reading, penetrating gaze.

Geralt and Triss met her on the stairs as they were coming down. Triss's eyes widened slightly in surprise when she saw Kain; she asked Geralt something quietly, and he nodded. It was unclear whether she liked the answer, but she said no more and led the way out. The witchers followed.


	27. Chapter 27

Bitterness tore through Yennefer. She narrowed her eyes at Triss as she approached her, unconcerned that she'd spent the night before tending to her wounds, the warning clear in Yennefer's eyes as she slowly stepped aside. Despite Triss' obvious enthusiasm she didn't meet her eyes.

"I'll be downstairs."

With that Yennefer let them group together and then followed them.

Ciri slipped past Geralt and Triss up the stairs and met Yennefer a few steps later. "Are you going with them?"

"Apparently that's not necessary," Yennefer said loud enough to convey how happy she was about that. "You're headed to get some rest? Try that draught?"

"No. I only got up two hours ago." Ciri smirked. "Everyone keeps sending me to my room. I'm starting to take it a little personally."

"I assumed that in light of your request you'd be trying to get as much sleep as you could, when you could. Unless you've found other methods to deal with your sleeping issues in the mean time?"

The door closed below to signify that the group had left and Yennefer pushed them from her mind, smirking as she studied Ciri, paying her more thorough attention now that they were alone again.

"I've been fine these past few nights, but tonight would have been a problem," Ciri said, slipping past her up the rest of the stairs so she could put the velvet pouch away in her room.

"You are worried about them?" she asked over her shoulder. "Geralt and Triss?"

"You don't think I should be?"

Yennefer turned on the stairs and followed her the rest of the way back to her room. She pushed the door closed behind them, not wanting to give Margarita news to pass along to Triss upon her return.

"I never said that." Ciri put the pouch on the nightstand and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "It is easy to see how Triss feels about Geralt. He is harder to read."

Yennefer walked over to the dresser, vanity that came with every room considering the troop of people who ran the inn. She checked her hair, her make-up, flinching at the smudge of coal at the corner of her eye. She swiped at it to perfect it again and straightened up.

"She knows about the recent issue with Djinn?"

Ciri lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know. I have not told her. We have not actually talked much at all."

"Has he been talking to you about it?"

"Not really." Ciri watched Yennefer's reflection in the mirror. "I have tried to ask him about it but he hasn't provided much information other than that he still does not remember you like I do. Like the rest of us do." Ciri frowned, imagining that must be very painful for her. "I'm sorry, Yennefer."

"Not your fault," Yennefer mused, bestowing Ciri with a smile as she moved to sit down next to her. She patted her hand to reassure her all was okay. "Now, before I got side-tracked… What's tonight? What would have happened?"

"I am out of the sleeping draught Mousesack gave me. It means Eredin would have entered my mind when I fell asleep and coaxed me into using my powers. He succeeded once before on Skellige. I'd rather not have a repeat of that."

"I thought it might have been something else you were referring to."

Yennefer seemed to have missed quite a bit and had even less time to catch up.

"Does he always try to reach out to you?"

"Yes. And he always manages. It has been happening most nights for the past two years. But I have never given in to his temptations before. Not until that night on Skellige."

"I thought it was some twisted anniversary or some kind of means for him to fully take over you."

That's what he'd been trying to do, and unfortunately, if they failed at some point, he might succeed unless Ciri decided to end it herself. Yennefer hoped it would never come to that point.

"Temptations? What kind of temptations does he lure you with?"

Ciri shrugged. "A reality where I no longer have to be on the run. Where I can use my powers as I see fit instead of keeping them all locked away.

"I suppose it was not so much temptation that made me jump back at Skellige, but fear. Kain popped into my mind. Eredin saw him. I did not want him to become a target on The Hunt's ever-growing list, so I...transported us away. While still asleep."

"Thereby giving him what he wanted." Yennefer wasn't meaning to chide her or pointing it out as a fault, but mere fact. It's pretty much what she'd said herself. "You shared this with Kain? The reason for the teleportation?"

"Kind of had to considering I literally threw him across the ocean. He handled it better than I thought he would."

A smirk twisted onto Yennefer's mouth and she smothered the urge to give a short laugh. Ciri was more like Yennefer without even knowing it.

"They always do." She removed the hand from Ciri's, touching the tip of her index to Ciri's chin. "It also seems as though he is handling you really well."

Ciri frowned, perplexed. "What does that mean? Handling me really well?"

"It means he seems to be handling your life really well."

"Oh. I suppose. He is a warrior; their lives are hardly easy either."

"And yet, he's still here, taking on more for someone he has only known a handful of days. Aside from your pretexts, why do you think that is?"

"If Eredin gets me, this world will end," Ciri said. "Anyone who wants to survive should fight.

"And… And we're friends."

"No one even knows that the world is at risk because of what Eredin wants. If they did we'd have an army at our disposal and not just six warriors. Seven." Yennefer had lost count. "Is that all that you are?"

Ciri sighed. "I like him. I am not sure he likes me the same way."

"He has eyes. Of course he does. Unless he's into men?"

Ciri blinked. "I don't think so. I don't believe I asked. Is it rude?"

"Only if he is prideful. What's your feel?"

"I don't know. How can one tell?"

"Does he ever look at your bosoms? Have you kissed?"

"No. And no." Ciri was silent a moment, thinking. "Which is nice, but confusing. I can always tell when men fancy me because, well, they try their hardest to fuck me. Even if I do not want to. Kain is not like that."

* * *

The redhead sorceress led the group to the fountain outside of Passiflora. At this hour, no one was around, and she looked satisfied with that.

She invited them to approach the fountain. "Let's begin. Watch the water, we can't let anything go unnoticed."

Geralt and Kain nodded, and she held her hands over the surface and began to chant. Kain saw the glow around her hands where her magic concentrated for the spell. The water bubbled, worried, darkened a bit. But they didn't see anything in there, because Triss suddenly staggered, feeling faint, and careened into Geralt's arms. He caught and held her, calling her name.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose, holding on to Geralt with her other hand. She rose her eyes to him, sorrowful and ashamed, then cast a glance at the fountain. "I'm so sorry… I don't suppose the spell will come right. Please, forgive me, Geralt, I let you down, after all."

"No, no, Triss, it's fine," Geralt said, embracing her, trying to make sure she wouldn't faint. "I understand. Yennefer was right, you're not ready. It's all right. We'll go back, you will rest."

"But… we have to find Philippa!" she argued. "We have to do it now, we can't wait."

"How do you propose we do it?" Geralt asked. "Yennefer and Margarita can do it."

Triss looked to Kain, her eyes narrowing pensively. Calculating. "You can do magic, can't you, witcher?"

"Some druid magic," Kain said.

Geralt looked from her to Kain, frowning. Triss detached from him and stepped to Kain producing a feather. It was an owl feather.

"How good are your tracking skills?" she asked.

Kain peered at the feather, contemplating it a moment. It felt she was testing him. As though the fainting was partially for show.

He shrugged, casting a glance at Geralt, then at her. "It's not exact science, but I can try."

She smiled and held the feather out to him. "Thank you. It would be a great help. We can't afford to lose any more time."

Kain turned the feather in his fingers, strolling a few steps away from them, focusing on ridding his mind of thoughts – alarmed thoughts based on the instinct that he was being set up. Gradually, he descended into a quiet state of mind where he began to sense something. There were flashes of a woman, her image flickered in Kain's mind like on a water surface. He sensed her power, caught the smell of faint perfume and feathers; and then felt a pull. It was weak, unsteady, as if the target was closed or resisting. She probably was. She didn't strike him as a sorceress that liked to be found when she didn't feel like it.

Without a word, Kain started to walk, following the pull.

"Kain?" Geralt called, but Triss stopped him with a gesture.

"Let's go," she said quietly. "He's doing it."

They followed; there was a small smile playing on her lips that Geralt didn't see.

* * *

Yennefer scowled at the way Ciri had so casually mentioned the fact that men tried to rape her. Yennefer had her own experiences with those attempts but to hear her girl had suffered the same angered her. "Then he is of the good few. Have you ever lain with anyone?"

That question, for some reason, caught Ciri entirely off guard. "I… Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity. You're a grown woman. You have desires." Yennefer paused to paint her a bit of a picture. "You and Avallac'h have been alone for many years, correct? Close quarters. Sometimes when two people are in a certain setting, they start to feel things – things that extend past emotional barriers."

Ciri stared at Yennefer, dumbfounded until realization struck and she finally understood what she was insinuating.

"No! Yennefer!" her cheeks flushed. "I would never… He would never… That has never been our relationship."

Yennefer settled her hand on top of Ciri's, smiling softly at her almost childish reaction to the question. She'd been away from her so long they never actually got to have this talk properly. Oh, there had been some insinuations, but that had been it and it had never been fitting. "You've never felt attracted to him? I'm assuming you've seen him naked at least once in your travels."

"Avallac'h?!" Ciri had to make sure they were talking about the same elf. "No. I've never felt attracted to him. Is that…" Ciri lowered her voice as if suspecting someone might have their ear pressed to the bedroom door. "Is that what you all think? Does Geralt think…?"

"No one has said that to me but your relationship is a hard one to decipher and for a time I suspected that to be the case. Until Kain came into the picture and the undercurrents changed. We're desirous creatures, Ciri. No one is immune and anyone that says they are haven't figured out how they feel yet. It took me decades."

"Well, I assure you I have never felt any such thing for Avallac'h. I don't think he has such emotions, anymore. He is too old." Ciri dared a look at Yennefer. "How old were you when you, you know… Your first time?"

"Young. Too young." Yennefer didn't bother with the age as it didn't matter and wasn't something that she recalled fondly. "Elves are complicated creatures. Avallac'h seems to feel some sense of ownership over you, a possessiveness that I've only seen stem from some kind of sexual connection."

Ciri waved that off. "I look like the woman he loved. The woman who left him for another. That is all."

"And that's why he talks down to you?"

"He talks down to me because I am human," Ciri said. "As he does with all humans. The Aen Elle are quite racist, as it turns out. Eredin is the same. So was Auberon."

"Guess that's tolerable. Elves are whoresons." Can't change prejudice like that, she reflected. "His feeling aside—have you ever felt an attraction to him? To his body? Anyone's body?"

"I already told you no," Ciri said, nudging Yennefer's shoulder with her own. "Not Avallac'h. As for others… sure. I have felt attracted to people before."

"And you acted on those feelings?"

"Some. Well, they acted, I suppose. I was just… along for the ride."

From the sounds of it, her physical interactions could use work, Yennefer noted. "And Kain? You've an attraction?"

Ciri shifted uncomfortably beside her. "Yes. But like I said, it's one-sided."

"And you know this, because? From the sound of it, you two haven't actually talked about it. The only sure way to know if something is one-sided is to act on it."

"He doesn't touch me," Ciri said as if that closed the case. "And he has never attempted to get me naked." She looked at Yennefer again. "How did you know Geralt liked you?"

"I didn't, not until we'd consummated." Unforgettable and world shifting. "As I said, the only way you'll know if it's anything or if there is anything there is to act on it. Subtly if you wish. Pop a button on your blouse…" Not that her new armor allowed for that kind of manipulation. "Suggest a bath… Together. Kiss him."

Ciri wasn't sure how to do any of that subtly. And she was scared what would happen should he reject her advances. How would she react?

"Suppose I will have to summon up some courage."

"You're one of the most courageous people I know." Yennefer squeezed her hand gently in support. "Go in to it the same way you do your battles. With confidence."

Ciri smiled a little. "I have been trained for battle. I have not been trained for… love."

"Who has?"

Yennefer wasn't. She'd been taught the exact opposite as a child and although she'd been presented with the concepts of love she could never bring herself to accept it because she hardly understood it and feared it.

It was only now, after the Djinn, that Yennefer was convinced of its existence within herself.

"We learn and grow with those who are fortunate to be part of our lives. Who we choose. There's no sure way to be trained for it, you have to be open to receive it. You have to let it in."

"And if he rejects me?" Ciri asked quietly. "How will I be able to spend every day with him after that?"

"With your head held high." Yennefer lifted Ciri's hand off the mattress and into her lap, holding it tightly. "And if it happens and you feel the urge to cry – you find me."

Ciri nodded, allowing herself to rest her head on Yennefer's shoulder. She really had missed her. "Thank you."

"Always." Yennefer freed one hand and brought it to the side of Ciri's face, stroking lightly, hopeful that the action was comforting—not just to her—but to Ciri.

It had been a hard week on all of them.

* * *

Something in the back of Geralt's mind wasn't sitting right with how it turned out, but he couldn't quite think of what was wrong. Kain seemed to be in some kind of a trance – he wasn't speaking to them or explaining his instinct, he was moving silently through the streets as if there was a string stretching from him to a certain place. Like in one of the legends Geralt had heard a couple of times, about a labyrinth with a monster in its middle and how to find a way out of it.

Triss was ahead of Geralt, trotting after Gwyncath. He wondered if she suddenly felt better, or she had been fine when she didn't do magic. Either way, she didn't fall back or let him believe she needed a breather.

Kain followed some tangled path, leading them in loops through the streets and back alleys, stopping a few times next to some doors and houses Geralt didn't know. Those stops were short and could seem as uncertainty, like the hounds following a fox's trail on a hunt. His final stop happened on the square in front of the stairs leading down to the doors of the bathhouse.

"Dijkstra," Geralt muttered. "I should have known from the start."

"We've got to hurry," Triss said, hurrying down the stairs. "We might not be late yet."

Geralt hesitated, touching a hand to Kain's shoulder. "You all right?"

He looked at Gealt with clear eyes and gave him the feather. "We have to get in there, something's happening with that mage."

Inside was a chaos, plants and flowers scattered on the floors along with shattered pots and vases, some benches broken, some walls cracked. From the bath rooms they heard voices, one of them louder than the others.

Dijkstra.

"Surrender!" he yelled from somewhere close behind the walls. "This place is a maze, witch! You'll never get out!"

Triss shot Geralt a frightened look. "We have to help her."

He nodded, and they went in, Kain and Geralt reaching for their swords.

Several guards were moving deeper into the bath room, their weapons at ready; some had swords, some carried crossbows, some had clubs raised over their shoulders. A rather silly choice, considering the woman standing in the doorway of the main bathing room was one of the most powerful sorceresses. Even blinded, she was capable of anticipating their advancements and dropped fireballs and destructive spells in the right places. People scattered, flew up and across the hall, hitting walls and columns like ragdolls. Some groaned and rolled over the floor in pain, some were dead as they landed.

"Fools! You fucking cretins!" Dijkstra raged, pressing into the wall, which was a bit comical with his girth. "At her! GET HER!"

"We'll handle this," Geralt told him.

Djikstra's eyes narrowed, his mouth creased in despise, "No fucking way! The sorceress stays here! Who the fuck is that with you?"

"He's a witcher just like I am," Geralt said. "We have to go in there, Dijkstra. No time to lose. Unless you're tired of living."

He rolled his eyes and waved a hand impatiently. "Then fucking go, you two, witchers! Those stupid fucks can't do shit!"

"It's all right, I'll stay here," Triss said, touching Geralt's arm. "In case she'll try to escape this way."

Geralt nodded, and gestured for Kain to go forth. They waited out another blast of magic the mage landed on a group of three that almost neared her, then went in quietly, sticking to shadows. Almost all the lights were gone, and it was convenient.

Her figure shifted in the bathing room doorway and disappeared inside it. Geralt stopped in a thick shadow and reached in his pocket for a potion. He hated it, but needed it to get this done. It zinged through his veins like a burning venom, temporarily stripping him of vision and senses while his body adjusted. When it did, Geralt blinked through the shades and colors, and the room came through like in a dissolving black mist. He heard her, heard the drops of water plopping down on the stony floors, heard footfalls and groans and faintly beating hearts of all the fallen guards Dijkstra had hired.

Kain was already gone. Geralt hurried after him.

Inside the room there was a huge round tub that used to have water in it, but now it was drained. The middle tile was missing, opening a way with a ladder leading down. Kain didn't wait for Geralt and descended, his senses sharpening in anticipation of magical attacks. He sensed the woman's magic everywhere – more acutely after tracking her by the feather. In the back of his mind, he worried she could sense him, too – it wasn't a nice thought – but now it was too late. Kain could have regretted using his powers to track the mage, but he didn't. One thing everyone was right about was that they were short on time.

When Kain's feet touched the ground, he found himself in the basement with locks on the grid fences. Looked like it used to be a treasury before a part of it was destroyed by explosions.

He felt the pull of her magic still, and it was getting stronger. As well as the resistance: a few figures moved toward him from the shadows, swords bared. Three guards with blank faces, their eyes were strangely glowing with magic – her magic.

Kain's mind jumped back to the man Ciri killed – the crossbow man, scared and screaming when he came out of his momentary possession. He didn't deserve to die.

Nor did any of the people surrounding him.

Kain closed his eyes momentarily, focusing on the power within and making a quick job of it. Due to his sharpened focus from the tracking magic, he felt it ready to act. He sheathed his sword, kicking the closest guard in the stomach, sending him stumbling back, then threw his hands forth. The force thrust out of them and hit the guards like a hurricane push; they flew backwards hitting the walls and grids, fell down on the floor.

Kain didn't wait for them to get up or come to as he proceeded further. Geralt was hot on his heels, looking around.

"Nice," he commented. "Do you know where she is? Have you seen where she went?"

"I know where to look," Kain confirmed, leading the way.

A huge troll was guarding a hole that must have been made by a bomb. Kain knew it led to the sewers.

"Witcherses no pastgo," the troll said, shaking his huge head. "Perty birdy nosay."

"Dammit, she cast a spell on him, too," Geralt muttered, and clucked his tongue in regret. Kain knew he pondered killing him. For a moment there, he did. Then he set his eyes on the troll. "She's hurt, haven't you noticed? We need to help her."

"Birdy no pastgo say," the troll argued, his giant hands flailing to aid expressiveness. "Bart no let pastgo."

"Have you ever been in pain, Bart?" Geralt asked. "Some severe, unrelenting pain that couldn't stop?"

"Hmm…" Bart scowled – for as much as a troll could scowl – and stared under his feet, scratching his head. "Ache… pain… aye. Bart once old drowner eat."

"She's in pain like she ate a hundred old drowners," Geralt said.

"Oh…" Bart's eyes narrowed, he scratched his head again. "Bart no want… Drowner make pain very bad…"

"Let us pass, and we will help her," Geralt promised. "Please, Bart, help us help her."

"Oh… um… Bart let pastgo," the troll decided. "Witcherses help."

"Thank you," Geralt said, and turned to Kain. "Let's go."

Geralt looked at the twisted corridors and tunnels, then at Kain who jumped after him. He looked around like a hound that sought the trail, then started running. Geralt followed, drawing his sword in case there were drowners on their way, but they found none – it wasn't too far where they eventually found her.

"Philippa, please, I want to help you," Geralt called through the fence into an open room where four tunnels met. There was a set of stairs, Geralt glimpsed, that led to a walk-around platform where she currently stood, her arms raised, her fingertips sparkling with magic.

"Oh yeah?" she called inside Geralt's head, making him wince. "Help me die? Not today! Get out of here if you want to live! I want offer twice."

"Philippa, don't do this!" he argued, and ventured through the grit fence gate into the room. "Let me lead you out of here, away from him and his men. Your friends are waiting for us."

"Don't you come any closer!" she yelled, then made a pass, then another with her hands; magic flickered, thundered and flashed down, twirling in a marvelous dance of colors. In the middle of it rose a golem, and flames licked through the cracks on his clay body, enveloping him and breathing life into his frame. The golem roared and threw a fireball Geralt's way.

He cursed and threw himself from its path, cursing as he did.

"You will regret coming after me!" Philippa screamed from her perch. The golem roared again and the ground beneath him glowed red and flashed in flames that ran toward Geralt like trickles of lava.

Kain didn't immediately follow Geralt into the room; he took his time standing still, savoring the moment to collect his strength in one focused spot and make it work like he did back in Kaer Morhen forest. He touched a hand to the ground and let power flow down through his palm into the ground, past the layers of rocks and soil and waters, deep into the earth where he felt the mighty flow of the nature's power that connected to his. It streamed up and through him like one of the potions Geralt took, and when Kain opened his eyes a moment later, the vision was changed. The time flow was changed, and he had no coherent thoughts left – his body was the force and it knew what to do, how to move and where to hit.

He went in, raising an arm to shield Geralt from the fire before he could roll away. The underground waters ran deep, but Kain felt them, every molecule of them that began to seep upwards and through the surface of the ground they stood on. The magical flames hissed like a ball of angry snakes, steam thickened and coiled coming up like a curtain.

A fountain of water burst through the ground beneath the fire golem like a short-lived geyser, dowsing the creature and putting out its flame.

Geralt didn't miss his chance and was already dashing around the unsteady thing, slashing and dicing with his sword. The golem didn't stand for long and began to fall apart. The magic drained from it, and Geralt rushed up the stairs to catch Philippa before she spat another spell out. Her mouth was moving, she was chanting something they couldn't make out, but then Geralt was behind her.

As she spun to thrust a magical punch with her hands aiming at him, Kain sent his own impulse shoving her off her feet. She didn't expect it and let out a scream falling down. Geralt caught her, then swiftly closed his hands around her wrists like vice, and shook her slightly.

"I'm not your enemy, Philippa!" he yelled in her face. "Let me help you!"

Dazed as he came to and let the additional magic drain from him, Kain touched a hand to the closest wall to keep himself upright while he caught his breath and senses.

"What do you want?" Philippa screamed at Geralt; even blindfolded, she seemed to be piercing him with her stare. He imagined it blazing as he recalled it from her better days. "To torment me? To watch others do so?"

"I need your help," Geralt said, keeping his voice lower than she called for.

She stopped fighting, stilling, and by that stance, she resembled a hound, too: she listened, felt for another one's presence, probed the air as if trying to smell him out.

"What help? Who is this with you?"

"A witcher friend," Geralt said. "I need your help to protect Ciri."

She pondered, then yanked her hands from his grip. Geralt didn't fight her.

"Betray me," she threatened, rubbing her wrists, "and I—"

"I won't. Come with us. Triss is waiting. We'll get you out of here."

She scoffed, but started to walk, making Geralt wonder once again how exactly she could see without her eyes under that blindfold. She lingered while passing by Kain, turned her head to him as if to "look" at him, and her lips twitched as if in a simper. Then she kept on going, and they followed behind like bodyguards.

"Deepest apologies," said the huge man that owned the establishment once they were back in the bathing rooms, "but the lady will come with me." The wording was polite, but his demeanor said he wasn't taking any no for an answer.

"I've no time for this, Dijkstra," Geralt winced. "Get out of my way." Philippa herself didn't seem impressed, nor anyhow interested in the scene, as if it didn't concern her in the slightest.

"I've no quarrel with you, Geralt, but Phil and I have lots to discuss," the man called Dijkstra said, and turned his flaming stare toward the sorceress who folded her arms defiantly. "Remember those assassins you sent after me, dear Phil?" he demanded. "A grave error. Such matters ought to be take care of personally. As I will now demonstrate."

"I need her," Geralt said, his stare as hard as Dijkstra's, and they clashed like swords.

"I don't give a rotten rat's ass," Dijkstra responded. "I've awaited this moment for an eternity and then some, so excuse me, but I care about your problems as much as I could care about snows of Mahakam. Philippa will come with me and answer for all courtesies she's bestowed me."

Geralt regarded him with a heavy glower, then spread his arms shortly, "Always knew the value of information, Dijkstra."

"Which is why I don't believe you have anything I don't already know," the man shrugged.

"The Nilfgaard Emperor wasn't able to sway the Trade Corporation," Geralt said, folding his arms.

Dijkstra pondered a second, his eyebrows raising. "Opposition's nibbling at his arse, eh? Seems like that flame shall get dowsed before it dances on any more graves."

"His daughter has returned," the witcher continued, sending a cold thrill down Kain's spine. "The Emperor wants to abdicate, give her the throne."

"Cirilla?" Dijkstra looked almost shocked. "Impossible. This…" He pondered. "This could shift the tide of war… But what does she have to do with it?" He glared at Philippa who still looked unimpressed and even bored.

"She'll help us protect Ciri from the Wild Hunt," Geralt said.

Dijkstra thought about it, shifting his calculating gaze from the witcher to the mage and back, then waved a hand. "Go. Before I change my mind."

Triss was waiting at the door. She beamed when she saw them coming from the dark of the rooms.

"Hello, Triss," Philippa said.

Triss approached her, seemingly pondered whether to hug her, but then decided against it and settled for a pat on the blinded witch's shoulder. "I'm so glad you're safe now. Are you all right?"

"I've been better," Philippa scoffed.

"I'll get you out of here," Triss said.

Geralt frowned, "Are you sure you can pull it off? At the fountain—"

"It's all right, Geralt," Triss said, all business now. No trace of the faint damsel she had been in his arms earlier. "I've got this. Thanks for your help." She looked at Kain, her lips widened in a smile. "Both of you. We'll be at the inn."

They walked away, Triss raised her arms opening a portal. The torrent of magic twirled in front of them and swallowed them both before disappearing with a whoosh of air.

Geralt sighed deeply and turned to Kain. "I guess we're walking back."

"Better so than that," Kain said, gesturing for where the portal vanished.

Geralt considered him a moment and smiled, amused. "I knew there was a reason I was beginning to like you."

* * *

After a few more minutes of contented silence, conversational commotion from inside the quiet Inn drew Yennefer's attention. She eased off the mattress, moved for the door, pausing as Philippa stared back at her when she opened it. Only she wasn't really looking at Yennefer given she was wearing a blindfold. Her lip curled into a distinctive snarl of displeasure but she was ushered along and into the room tended to by Margarita and Triss.

"Where's Geralt and Kain?"

Yennefer peered behind them to make sure they weren't close, although she doubted they'd have come up this way and their energies were nowhere to be found.

"On their way," Triss explained needlessly.

It also hadn't escaped Yennefer that Triss was moving a lot better than she had when she left. Yennefer narrowed her eyes speculatively and moved to shadow Triss toward the doorframe.

She refused to give them the chance to hold some secret council if she could help it. The Lodge was known for their scheming and if Philippa didn't already know that Ciri was here, it would only be a matter of time before she sniffed her out and started cooking up ultimatums to obtain her help.

Yennefer rose and Ciri immediately understood why. She, too, had sensed the portal opening.

She followed in the sorceress' wake, silent, and remained outside the doorway of Margarita's room, watching over Yennefer's shoulder.

They had found Philippa. Though Ciri could see no wounds or bruises on her skin, she still seemed in bad shape. Exhausted. And her eyes… or lack thereof. Ciri supposed she should have felt sympathetic. Only, at the moment, she could not manage it.

"Are you alright, Triss?"

The redhead turned to look at her, seemingly surprised by the blonde girl's appearance. But she smiled warmly. "I am, darling. I am just fine."

"Cirilla," Philippa greeted, drawing out her name as though it tasted bitter and a lot sweet. Yennefer detested that tone in her voice. "I'd say you look well, darling, but from the smell of things – I'd say life hasn't been any easier on you since the last we spoke."

She wrinkled her nose with distaste meant to offend and turned her back on the two standing in the door. Triss said nothing, slinking over to them, shielding them from Philippa.

"She's been captive—"

Yennefer raised a hand to shut down her excuse for her usual manner. Triss conceded.

"She's hungry. She needs to bathe."

Yennefer scoffed. "Luxuries only afforded to our allies."

Triss's eyes widened and then narrowed, her cheeks flushing as Philippa once more turned to regard them, to peer at them through whatever remained behind that blindfold.

"My patience has never been very lenient where you're concerned, Yennefer, and Geralt and his interesting Witcher friend have both been exceedingly helpful. I'd hate to recede my word because you've yet to learn to hold your tongue."

Her words were choice. A Witcher was a Witcher and in a sorceress' eyes they were rarely interesting.

"So you know why you're here."

"Of course. Cirillia needs me. She's always needed me. You've only ever been loath to admit it."

Ciri moved to stand beside Yennefer instead of behind, eyeing the blind sorceress with caution. "The world needs us, Madam Eilhart," she corrected her as softly as she was able. "Do not make the mistake in thinking I am the victim. I am the weapon."

She wanted them all to understand this. This was not about saving Ciri's life, but everyone else's.

"Our mission is to ensure those who seek to harness my power for themselves and their own selfish gain, are unable to do so."

Philippa shifted from where she stood between Margarita and Triss like their appointed Queen. There was no smile on her face and with the strip off cloth across her eyes it was hard to tell what she was thinking. Yennefer knew, however, that it was of one bearing.

"And how do you plan to guarantee that, young Cirillia? We defeat The Wild Hunt and all your problems with containment up and disappear? Had you not had such abhorrent teaching as a child," Triss eyes drifted in Philippa's direction and Yennefer's hands fisted, "—this wouldn't be an issue now." Triss wasn't offended as that wasn't meant to be an offense toward her. They both knew that.

Ciri's eyes narrowed. "How is that?"

"Had you accepted my offer when first presented, you'd have had the force of The Lodge behind you and Eredin would have been disposed of. You might even have been happy."

"I would have been a whore and incubator," Ciri hissed, her temper immediately flaring. "Don't pretend otherwise. And as I recall it, it was not an offer, but an expectation. An order. There would have been no happiness for me there."

"Let us not go into all this right away," Triss ventured in a soft, pacifying voice, placing herself between the two sorceresses and Yennefer with Ciri. "We are all very tired and battled, we all need a bit of time to recuperate. Let us put the talks on hold and all get our rest." She shot a meaningful look Philippa and Margarita's way.

Philippa shrugged, "Fine with me."

Triss nodded and turned to Yennefer and Ciri, looking apologetic. "Let us leave it for later. I need to help Margarita take care of Philippa while our witchers are on their way. If it's all right with you?" She smiled, looking between them hopefully.

"Try to still her poisonous tongue while you are at it," Ciri snarled, turning and pushing put of the doorway, heading for the stairs. She needed a drink. She assumed Yennefer would follow, unless she was in need of rest as well.

* * *

Yennefer had no other choice but to step back, to give The Lodge what they requested and the quiet that they wanted to themselves as she wasn't going to get anything out of them. Philippa had crossed a line and Triss was playing the friendly conciliatory in hopes of buying herself time. Yennefer could smell the excited desperation on her. Something had happened while they were out.

Ciri went one way and Yennefer went the other.

She headed back to Ciri's room, eased onto the mattress, legs crossed and focused on the room beside her, on temporarily dissociating from her body so that she could eavesdrop on their conversation.

The door hadn't been closed two minutes and Yennefer could hear Triss already in the throes of excitement.

"What you saw him being capable of doing was only negligible. He's able to control his powers, he embraces it and there is so many avenues that he uses—"

"You're gushing, Triss," Philippa commented. Margarita had found a basin and a washcloth and was trying to help her remove dried blood and dirt. "Is Geralt no longer of interest to you?"

Yennefer bristled and briefly lost the concentrated hold on her magic. She returned to her body, irritated that she'd let that simple comment get to her. She focused again.

They'd already moved on and Yennefer had missed her answer. She could suspect though. There was no way she was over him and even if she had been playing the damsel in distress, manipulating situations or otherwise, he had a tendency of overlooking what she did wrong in favor of her innocence and their history.

Yennefer hardly understood it most the time.

"He is quite handsome," Margarita commented.

"He has a strong energy," Philippa added.

"He's also more competent with his powers than Ciri at present," Triss stated. "He has no defining loyalties and from what I understand he's been alone. I haven't spent much alone time with him but he seems reasonable enough and he might be more open to negotiation."

"Cirillia hasn't much matured," Philippa stated.

Yennefer knew that her girl was a state of contention for the sorceress, that Philippa was so used to winning, that Yennefer couldn't see her letting her go without a fight. She could feel her need to reign Ciri in, to finally bend her to her will as she'd always wanted. Ciri was unfinished business and more importantly she'd escaped. The Lodge was a lot like The Wild Hunt in that entitlement. Which made the fact that Philippa hadn't outright attacked Yennefer a bit of a surprise. She said that if she ever saw Yennefer again that she'd be put to death, that she was their official enemy and that she'd betrayed them.

Yennefer had, and surely would again, if it meant that Ciri was safe.

"We don't need Ciri," Triss implored, shuffling to sit down in front of her long-time mentor and would-be friend. She'd proved her loyalty enough times for the woman to meet her gaze head on – even without her actual eyes. "He's strong, he's capable and with the right kind of molding, he could be better than we ever dreamed."

There had been a time that Triss had advocated, pressed Ciri to join the Lodge, to marry their selected prince and to make them their magical babies with the same kind of enthusiasm she was using now, as if she'd discovered a miracle.

"I want to speak to this boy myself," Philippa stated.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Triss retorted.

Margarita had been listening attentively, stepping away from Philippa to set aside the basin so she could help her remove her grimy clothes and inspect the rest of her body. She hadn't been injured much apparently.

"And why's that?"

"As I said, I haven't managed much time alone with him and if we were to approach him with an abrasive prospect – he'd run. Leave it to me."

Philippa's features hardly changed, but for an instant her head tipped upward, as if she could sense they weren't alone and had only now realized.

"I'm hungry," she said.

"I'll get you something from the kitchen," Triss offered, hesitantly as if she too had realized something and then shifted from her position, heading for the door. Yennefer returned to her body, slightly drained and a lot tired.

* * *

"Your magic is quite impressive," Geralt remarked when he and Kain walked down the street from the bathhouse. The sun was shining on their backs. "Even for the sorceresses. Maybe it wasn't wise to showcase it in front of them. Especially Philippa."

"Ciri warned me about the same, but it was the best way to aid the fight."

"It was effective, no doubt," Geralt agreed. His face still showed the signs of a recently consumed potion. It faded slowly. He considered Kain as they walked and gestured to his unbuckled jacket. "Pretty hot in it."

"I wasn't going to leave Skellige for a while," Kain reminded. "The armorer is working on the new set."

"Do you regret leaving with us?"

"No, I don't regret the decisions made."

"Good," he approved. "What made you choose to join us?"

Kain frowned pensively. "A number of reasons. You needed all the help you could get, and Ciri told me about the Hunt and what they fight for. A threat like that can't be ignored."

"What about Ciri?"

"What about her?"

He grimaced in fake annoyance. "You can read me perfectly well, Gwyncath, maybe better than most. So don't elude. What about Ciri?"

Kain sighed, reflecting for a bit, then gave a shrug. "I don't know. I wasn't trying to pick a name for it. I'm not... I wasn't looking for anything. Nor am I now. The way she kept finding me felt strange even for me. It makes you think there's some special reason that higher forces want it that way for some purpose. I was resisting it because it's utterly opposite of how I tried to live, but it changes nothing. I do realize that I have to be here and fight for this cause because it feels right. I used to trust that life would put me in the right place at the right time where I'm needed most. I guess it's happening."

"I see," Geralt stared contemplatively ahead. "It does make a lot of sense. I'm not a druid or magician or a seer, but I feel that, too. You're with us for a reason. And I'm glad you are." He cast a look at Kain. "What about Ciri?"

Kain chuckled, shaking his head. "She's stubborn, reckless, headstrong and still like a child in many things - because she didn't get the luxury of growing up among her family. She's been through a lot, and even though she doesn't tell most of it, one could guess. It's a miracle she is sane after all of it, and I admire her strength and her character. I hold Ciri in high regard, same as you. But if you ask about other aspects... She's worth so much, Geralt, and I'm not sure I could be that. Or..."

"You don't feel ready," Geralt concluded in a quiet voice.

Kain shook his head.

"You _did_ love Morénn?"

"It wasn't an eternal, undying love when the two understand and feel each other without words and need to be together forever, Geralt. But it's not about her. It's about every single experience I had and how different they were, and what different things they taught me. I don't… I never wanted to fall in love. I tried to avoid it the best I could."

"I think I understand perfectly," Geralt said in the same gentle voice. "It's all right. It only gets cured by the feeling itself when that feeling is too strong to ignore." His gaze was faraway and he looked a tad entranced.

He blinked it away and gave Kain a smile. "You'll figure it out when the time comes."

"I know."

They walked the small remaining part of the way in silence, both content with it.

"I have to talk to Avallac'h," Geralt said as they approached the door of the inn. "And then we can all have some lunch."

"All right."

He pulled the door open, and they went in.


	28. Chapter 28

Downstairs, Ciri made her way behind the counter and claimed one of the bottles. She had no idea what it was, only that it was stronger than mead.

She found herself a clean glass and took a seat at one of the free tables, pouring herself a generous amount when the door opened and Geralt and Kain entered.

She didn't quite manage a smile but was grateful to see they were both alright. "Well done."

Geralt raised an eyebrow, "What?"

Ciri sat alone, even Priscilla was away somewhere.

"They're here, I figure?"

Ciri smiled sardonically and raised her glass in a toast. "Can't you tell?"

She threw the drink back and closed her eyes until the brief burning sensation faded.

"Are you both alright? Was it a battle?"

Geralt and Kain exchanged glances, and Geralt said, "Not enough of action to call it a battle. Just a few guards and one small golem."

"Right," Kain confirmed. "Nothing big."

Ciri snorted, because she had caught the shared glance between the two. "Sure."

Geralt smiled. "Absolutely. What about you? Everything fine here? Philippa and others?"

"Right as rain. Whatever that means," Ciri muttered, considering refilling her glass. "Triss and Margarita are tending to her. It's possible Yennefer forced her way into the room. Either that, or she is resting in mine."

"I see," Geralt nodded. "I'll have to talk to Avallac'h. I made him wait enough."

"Good luck," she wished, secretly glad it was not her presence that had been requested. She looked to Kain. "Where was she, anyway?"

Kain joined her, glancing after Geralt's retreating back. "At the bathhouse, held by the man called Dijkstra. He didn't really manage to hold her, however. He'll have to repair a lot."

"Dijkstra had her?" Ciri was surprised. "And he… just let you take her?"

"Geralt is a decent negotiator. And I think Dijkstra understood deep down that he couldn't make her stay. She is a sorceress and obviously can see even without her eyes. It doesn't limit her much."

"This is true. He could not keep her before either," Ciri said, finally refilling her glass. "They used to be lovers."

"That… must've been quite a pairing."

She smiled a little. "Ended badly, as I am sure you can tell. Mixing political ambition and romance does not seem like a good idea."

"I figured." Kain studied her a moment. "Are you all right? They did tell you something, didn't they?"

Ciri smiled bitterly. "I spent less than two minutes in that woman's presence and she already managed to lament how much better my life would have turned out had I chosen to be their puppet back all those years ago."

"Many individuals of power believe people's lives would be much simpler and more desirable if they would be controlled. Free will and choice are viewed as a problem because it means resistance for those who want to rule."

"I know." She took a sip of her drink. "I hadn't expected she would be able to get under my skin so easily after all these years."

"Growing thicker skin takes time and practice. You'll get there, if you manage to rule down your emotions. Which also takes time and practice."

"Let's hope. Do you want a drink? Tea?"

"No, thank you, I'm good."

"Did you talk to her? Philippa?"

"They all talked to Geralt. I'm more like his third sword for all they care."

"Good," Ciri said. The less attention they paid him, the better.

Kain peered at her, amused. "Why? You're scared they'll decide to make me their puppet? It might not be as easy as it sounds."

"They'll make your life harder. Hell, even, if it suits them. I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"It's touching that you worry about me, but you've got a lot on your own plate. I can take care of myself. I don't want you to lose sleep over what anyone might or might not do to me. We'll solve problems when they come, not before it."

"It's harder to worry about yourself than those you care about," Ciri said. "I just don't want you hurting, is all."

Kain shrugged apologetically. "Your mere reservation about something won't stop it from happening. The world works in mysterious ways, and everything happens for a reason. Even when it doesn't look that way to us."

"I know that," Ciri said tiredly. "But there are still certain measures that can be taken in order to prevent something horrible from happening. You just have to keep an eye out for those moments."

"Right," Kain nodded. "And sometimes there are things that are impossible to stop or prevent. It's like every detail that happens builds a way for them to happen. In short, some events resist preventing measures."

"But you won't know which until it happens. So I will be vigilant." Ciri downed the rest of her drink, re-assessing her earlier words as she eyed the empty glass. "After today."

"Vigilance is great," Kain said, leaning back into his chair. "For as long as it's being used in balance with taking care of your needs to replenish your powers. I mean rest. You have a problem with balancing the two."

"I got a very good night's sleep, remember? And I have been resting all morning." She grinned. "I see no balance-problems here."

Kain shrugged. "Maybe today. But not before. I hope you keep the balance."

"It should be easier now. Yennefer made the potions. I won't have to worry for a while."

"Do those potions block the access to your mind? Because it's what he does - sneaks into your mind like through an unlocked door."

"They are supposed to, yes. I explained the problem to her."

"It's good she can help you now. But you will have to learn to protect your mind at any moment - within in.

"You can push him out of your mind with your power that is greater than his. He merely doesn't expect you to, nor do you think you can. And that plays in his favor. It's in his favor when he keeps you in the state of a small, defenseless girl. He hopes you stay that way until he gets what he wants."

Ciri considered that. "I managed to push someone else out of my mind. That mind reader who was part of the guards keeping me prisoner. But that was different. I… I felt her trying to nudge my mind open. With Eredin I feel no warning signs whatsoever."

"He knows the way in and he doesn't have to look for it."

"So how do I close the door, so to speak?"

"By realizing what so-called door he uses and how to close it. Or how to fight him inside."

"And the only way to do that is to not take the potions," Ciri mused. "How else am I to find out?"

Kain smiled, slightly amused. "No. First thing would be to learn how to fight with your power. The only way you seem to use it is zapping from place to place."

Ciri leaned her elbows on the table, face in her hands as she watched him. "How can I practice when using my power will alert Eredin?"

"Would you bind your legs if using them alerted Eredin?"

"It is figuratively what I have been doing ever since I escaped the land of Aen Elle," Ciri sighed. "So yes, I suppose I would."

"If you cut pieces off yourself to hide from someone, how can you hope to get yourself together and know how to use every part when he finds you anyway? You help him win by doing that."

"I understand that. But if he finds me, if he gets me, this world ends in horrible bloodshed. What am I supposed to do?"

"He'll find you and try to get you in any way," Kain spread his arms. "If, when he does, you don't know what to do with your power other than zap away and keep running, the world and you are in trouble."

"Exactly. Which is what will happen should I use my powers now. How can I practice something I can't actually use?" Ciri demanded, frustrated. "How can I become stronger and better when attempting to do so risks everyone's lives?" She scrubbed her hands over her face. "I should have stayed in that strange metal world where he could not reach me. It was entirely selfish to come back."

"What was so special about that world that he couldn't get there?"

"Without access to The Gate of The Worlds, Eredin can only travel to a few select worlds within a certain area. They call it the Spiral. With my power he could travel anywhere. And he could bring the entire Aen Elle population with him."

"He already knows where you are, Ciri. Trying to not use any powers to not alert him is like trying to hide in an open field while wearing a red cloak. Impossible. But there might be a way if you learn magic. If you learn to contact the magic of this world - which is a sentient, magical being - the world can help you. This earth can help you because you are its child along with any being living in it."

"How?" Ciri asked, feeling as though she could not see an answer she was supposed to. She took Kain's hands in hers, squeezing lightly. "Tell me how."

"You'll have to use your powers to learn how to use them. You cannot learn to walk with your legs bound. It is impossible."

That still terrified her. For so many years she had been told using her powers would make Eredin show up with his band of demonic elves. And though Ciri understood Kain's point very well, it was still a big risk to take.

But… it was tempting. So very tempting. Like drawing a lungful of breath after having been denied air for too long.

"I can't do it here," she said, inhaling and rising to her feet. "Too many prying eyes."

"Not here," Kain agreed. "The woods and swamps around here is a better place."

"I'll go immediately. If what you say is true, and Eredin is waiting for the right time to strike rather than chasing me blindly, I have already wasted so much time."

She headed for the door, pulling her gloves on.

Kain held out a hand, enveloping Ciri in magic stopping her in her tracks.

"And what are you going to do there alone? Think the things you need to practice will magically appear in your mind when you're there? You don't know what to do, and that didn't change."

The force that enveloped her was surprising, but did not feel evil, so there was no fear. Ciri turned to look at Kain over her shoulder, smiling with amusement. "Are you not coming, Archer?"

"Geralt said we'll all have lunch after he speaks with Avallac'h," Kain replied, pulling Ciri back with his power like a chess figure across the board. "Don't you want to wait for him? Besides, there should be a plan before we go training."

Ciri's boots slid across the floor without any help from her and her body. She scowled at Kain, though there was no real heat. "How was I supposed to know of his intentions?" she asked, coming to stand before him. "And fine. Let us plan."

"Before you learn to mask your power, there might be another idea." Kain removed his hold from her, rested his hand on his lap. "Yennefer created a powerful barrier around the whole castle. If she could pull off something similar, something like a temporary dome over your training place that would keep your magic signature from spreading, it might solve the problem."

Ciri chewed her lip, hesitating. "That spell almost killed her last time…"

Kain nodded. "Because she had to keep it on a large scale and for a long time, trying to block their power. We don't need all that. All we need is a dome of energy to mask yours. In theory, it's much simpler."

Ciri considered it. "It doesn't hurt to ask. Only Yennefer, though. I don't want the other sorceresses involved."

"Only her," Kain confirmed.

Ciri grinned, feeling a sense of excitement she had lacked a lot lately. "Thank you. For continuing to help me."

Kain frowned in mild confusion. "Why would I refuse?"

"I never said you would," she replied, reaching out to touch his cheek with her fingertips. "I am simply making sure you know I am grateful."

"Your feelings are strong enough to sense them," Kain said. "I'd know that without words."

"Really?" Ciri said, marveling at that. Until she began wondering whether he could sense other, more personal emotions as well. That was mortifying.

"I'm not trying to read you or Geralt on purpose, but I do catch some emotions that reach me naturally. It's a habitual skill. It's how I communicate with Griffin."

She nodded. "I understand. Maybe someday I will learn a similar trait."

"You can. I don't think it would be hard for you to learn."

"We'll see." Ciri rounded the table to take her seat again.

* * *

The Ruby suite's bedroom was covered in sketches that were everywhere: the floor, the dresser, the table, the chests, the chairs, the bed – where Avallac'h sat amongst them holding another one in his hand, staring at it in some kind of meditation. If he had such power, he'd burn through it with his eyes.

Geralt strolled slowly, quietly toward him, looking around at the pictures. Eyes… faces with shadows lying over them… women… long hair falling down over her shoulder blades in soft, big waves… Kain's face… Kain's figure… Kain's silhouette… Kain's eyes under his bangs falling over the right eyebrow…

"What is this obsession?" Geralt asked, stopping next to the side of his bed.

Avallac'h started subtly and looked up, blinking. He lowered the drawing and sighed, gave a shrug. "Just killing time," he said. "While you are out there performing your heroics."

Geralt folded his arms. "You're not mad?"

Avallac'h looked surprised and got up, began to gather the sketches all over the room. "On the contrary. I must admit your eliminating Imlerith was quite… adeptly. The only argument I have with what you two have done is with how you left without telling anything."

"Ciri was in a hurry. But she left you a letter, she told me."

"That she has," the elf nodded, putting the stack of pictures on the table face-down. "I merely believed I deserved a bit more of a courtesy. I could have helped no less than the boy you brought along."

Geralt smirked, shaking his head in faint amusement. "Is that what you wanted to discuss? A complaint?"

"No, of course not. I wanted to bring my congratulations with your successful mission and tell you that your accomplishment rather inspired me."

Geralt frowned, "Meaning?"

"The loss of one of his great generals has weakened Eredin significantly," Avallac'h said, standing in front of the witcher, his arms folded. "However, two others remain. Caranthir is a loyalist, but Ge'els could be swayed. He was a devoted follower of our former king. And as it happens, Eredin poisoned our beloved ruler."

"Regicide is a serious offence," Geralt commented. "I take it not many know about this."

"Among the living – only I. And Eredin, of course."

Geralt nodded, pondering this. "The question is; can you make Ge'els believe you?"

"You need not worry about it."

Geralt squinted, "You are not planning to kill him, are you?"

"Those measures are not always necessary," Avallac'h said.

"Which leaves a deal you want to propose?"

Avallac'h gave a cold smile, "Brilliant deduction. I'm impressed. Indeed, I am planning to bring him here and show him the truth of what happened."

"A great plan," Geralt marveled. "Perfect, even. If only we knew where to find him."

"We do. In the land of the Aen Elle."

Geralt peered at him in silent wonder. He seemed surprised.

"What, you don't recall?" Avallac'h asked. "After all, you did travel with Eredin for quite some time. It's the land of the Alder Folk, another world, altogether. The world where we arrived centuries ago, the world that is our current home. The Red Riders come from there. And there we find Ge'els."

Geralt scowled, suddenly defensive. "You want to take Ciri there? You're the only two who know how to travel between worlds."

Avallac'h shook his head with a sort of tired expression that made Geralt think he had to refrain from rolling his eyes. "You clearly know there are many other worlds apart from this one. It's a good start." He went to the table where the map of Novigrad lay among the pencils and books. "Those worlds are linked by hidden gateways that allow passage between them. Of course, not many know, let alone can locate those gateways."

"How about Elven Sages?" Geralt asked, eyeballing the map.

"You guess correctly. One such passage will open near where we are, which is rather fortunate." He bent over the map, pressing his fingers to it to show Geralt, "Between this noble edifice and the Butchers' Yard. It is our chance. The only one."

"I suppose we should take it, then," Geralt said, rubbing his chin and considering the map.

"Good. I… suppose we can invite the boy with us." Avallac'h met Geralt's inquiring gaze with his inscrutable one, and shrugged. "It won't be a direct passage – it shall be a chain of gateways with other worlds in-between where we have to locate other openings. I cannot say what could wait for us there, and having another sword cannot be a bad idea."

Geralt studied him for a long moment, but couldn't find any argument worthy enough to object. The Sage had a point.

"All right," Geralt surrendered. "If he's up to it."

"I believe he will be," Avallac'h said. "It's for Zireael's cause. Let me know when you're ready. We have less than an hour to set out."

"Fine. I'll tell him."

* * *

Triss sauntered down the stairs, planting a smile on her face at the sight of the two blondes below hovering together talking. "Either of you seen Priscilla?"

"Not for a while now," Ciri said, looking up at Triss. "She might be in the kitchen. Or with Dandelion."

Triss studied Kain despite the fact that he hadn't spoken and then allowed her gaze to return to Ciri.

"I'll find her. About what happened upstairs…" She didn't want to mention too much of the altercation in front of Kain and have him think badly of The Lodge. "You know she didn't mean to sound as though she was attacking. She's set in her ways."

Ciri smiled without any warmth. "That is not true and you know it, Triss."

She was just too scared of Philippa to say anything else.

Triss's eyes wavered to the floor, stayed there for half a second and then bounced back to Ciri. "She's headstrong. Like another someone I know."

"She's a cold bitch who intended to make me a prince's whore, so that she could gain power. She doesn't care who gets hurt as long as it serves her ambition. Let us not pretend."

"Would it really have been so bad, Ciri?" Triss had always wondered. She couldn't imagine. If you were giving up your freedom for a cause, wouldn't it be worth it? Wouldn't it be enough that Triss was there with her? "It might not have turned out the way you imagined. I never would have let them hurt you."

Ciri rose so abruptly her chair toppled over, bracing her fists on the table in front of her. Her eyes blazed with sudden fury and disbelief. "What did you just say? Do you hear yourself, Triss? How would you like it if a group of people suddenly decided you no longer had any say in your own life? They'd tell you who to spread your legs for. Whose babies you'd push out. Who you'd be allowed to talk to. How to dress, how to act, how to feel. A slave! That is what your Lodge wanted me to be."

Kain sensed Ciri's anger flare, he even saw it – a flare of red saturated her energy like a cloud of heat.

He put the chair back up and stood behind her to prevent any show of powers none of them needed. Triss seemed alarmed, but she might decide to offer more arguments, and then Ciri might topple over the edge of her patience. No one needed that, either.

Triss could see why Ciri would be against an offer like that. She was young, selfish, she didn't have the capacity to look outside of herself to see what needed to be done in order to sustain their power and influence. There was more to life than happiness and love. The latter she craved deeply out of some twisted need to experience what she thought she saw – passion – and struggled to feel.

Geralt coming down the stairs in a jog saved the situation. Triss and Ciri shot their gazes his way, and Triss stepped back a bit, putting on a wide smile.

"We have another business to take care of," Geralt said, looking pointedly at Kain as he approached. "I'm afraid the lunch is to happen later. You in, Kain?"

"Sure," Kain said.

"What business?" Ciri snapped, looking from Triss to Geralt.

Triss opened her mouth to make another retort, to further argue the point, but with Geralt showing up shut it down. "Where are you going?"

Geralt looked at Ciri, really looked at her this time, and what he saw made his blood cool. "Ciri, what happened to you?" He looked between her and Triss. "What is going on here?"

"Just a disagreement over if being the Lodge's whore would be bad or not," Ciri said, a bit calmer this time. Geralt was not on the receiving end of her anger. "What is happening? Please say I can help. I cannot just sit around for another hour."

Geralt looked from Ciri to Triss for a second, reprimanding her silently for stirring that kind of talk in the least appropriate time.

"Avallac'h has an idea we have to follow," he said, turning back to Ciri. "I'm taking Kain, but you can't go. I really need you to sit tight here, inside this inn, until we come back here as soon as we can. Please, Ciri, can you do this for me?"

"Why?" She narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing?"

Triss remained silent, although she had to admit she was curious about what Geralt could possibly need Kain for.

Geralt sighed. "Avallac'h wants to pull Ge'els to our side by proving it to him that Eredin killed their king. I believe it's worth trying, given how desperate we are. This idea requires bringing Ge'els here from Aen Elle world, which Avallac'h wants to guide us to. We will be back as soon as we can, but I need to know you will be here all this time and wait for us. Safe. Please, Ciri. No missions, no visits, no business outside this inn. Please."

Ciri watched him for a long moment, trying to keep that rage down. She hated that he was leaving again, hated that he was taking Kain with him, and that she was forced to stay behind and wait.

She nodded, but didn't manage to voice her agreement, pushing past them all and striding up the stairs.

"How urgent is this?" Kain asked Geralt when Ciri rushed away toward the stairs.

"We have to go within an hour."

"I need a bit of time; I'll be back within this hour. Is that all right with you?"

Geralt hesitated, pondering, then nodded reluctantly. "Make it half an hour."

Kain nodded and went upstairs after Ciri.

"Are you sure you don't need me to accompany you?" Triss offered. "I could help carry you to where you need to be?" That would also give her the opportunity to get to know Kain better if it was just the three of them.

"You can't take us to another world, Triss," Geralt said, regarding her with a gauging eye. "You fainted in my arms today, and you propose to carry us where we need to go? What is this, Triss? What is going on with you and your healing, exactly?"

"Yennefer helped me with magic. I'm getting better—I want to be useful." She stared at Geralt imploringly, batting her eyelashes. "I also figure that given what you did to save both Margarita and Philippa, it's only fair that I return the favor. It's what we've always done."

"I appreciate your intention, really. But there's nothing you can do this time. It's all on Avallac'h, and he always knows what he's doing. You stay and watch over the Lodge allies. We all have our tasks."

Triss nodded. "Right now my only task is to find Philippa something to eat."

She wanted to stay and talk to him longer, bask in his presence, but she forced herself to walk away toward the kitchen in search of the blonde performer. She was afraid he'd ask her more questions about her healing and why she and Ciri had been at odds or why she'd brought it up.

* * *

Ciri stepped into her room and found Yennefer resting on the bed. She did not have time to greet her before there was a knock on the door.

Ciri turned and opened it. Kain was outside.

"Something tells me you're in a defiant mood," he said, "and I can't go and watch Geralt's back if I can't be sure I shouldn't have stayed to watch yours."

Ciri sighed and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her so they could talk freely. "I don't need to be watched, Kain. I'm not a naughty child intending to run away. I'm just frustrated that once again I am unable to do anything to help this situation."

"I didn't mean it like that. You're not a naughty child, you're a target that we are trying to protect. You can be naughty, however, and you know it. No point denying. I want to make sure you will do as he asked." Kain paused, pondering, then continued, "I want to try something, but we have to take a quick ride. Take Yennefer, she's all the protection you need, but only if she picks a less recognizable outfit. I have half an hour, so if you want to do it now, be quick. If you're going to be fine with waiting for my return here, it's also fine by me. Which one is it?"

"Now," Ciri said without hesitation, fumbling for the doorknob behind her and allowing the door to swing open again. "Yennefer, I have another favor to ask."

Yennefer hadn't been asleep, merely pondering what she'd heard. "What's that?"

"We ask you to portal outside the village that's beyond the city's walls," Kain said over Ciri's shoulder. "Ciri and I will ride there, and you meet us in the village at their notice board. And try to not be recognized, it's important."

Yennefer sat up at the mention of her portaling, facing the couple with interest. What could be that important that it had to come in form of what she could only deem was a secret? Had they heard what the witches were discussing? "Is there something I should know?"

"Yes. And you will once we get there. You may have to change your clothes." Ciri gestured to the wardrobe. It still had a few pieces left. "Maybe something in a muddy brown?"

She would hate it, Ciri knew. But she also would not deny Ciri this.

Grimacing at the thought of Ciri's preferred color, Yennefer nodded nonetheless, mind already made. "When is this supposed to happen?"

"Now," Kain said. "Please, hurry. So shall we."

He took Ciri's hand and led her downstairs. Geralt wasn't there, only Triss was at the counter talking to Priscilla. She didn't turn to see them, and that was good. The less attention the better. He led Ciri to the stables and gestured for her horse.

In a minute, they rode out and toward the city gate.

* * *

Yennefer watched them head out of the room, it not escaping her that Kain had touched Ciri and practically dragged her for the stairs. What were they up to? She guessed she was going to find out. She summoned the circle of gold, stepped through it and appeared in Spearhead a moment later. She walked over to the bloodied dirty clothing she'd removed from Triss, shed her own, pulling them on piece for piece, repairing them in the same manner she had made Ciri's armor, steering clear of cleaning it of the dirt. Triss had always had poor taste. Yennefer found one of Triss' discarded cloaks in the preferred color Ciri had suggested and then after a quick and displeasing check of herself in the mirror she carried herself to the outskirts of the town.

"So, what is the plan?" Ciri asked Kain as they rode across the bridge and out of the city.

"I know a person who could teach you some things about your power," Kain said. "If she agrees. But it needs to be kept secret because she lives in secret. Yennefer is your back-up, to portal you from there so you're not seen."

"Who is this person?" she asked curiously. "She knows about me? About Elder Blood powers?"

"She knows many things without anyone telling her."

They rode down the road snaking from the city gate bridge and between the village and the river. Few paid them any mind.

They left the horses to graze and went to the village on foot. Yennefer was waiting at the village board. Together they went to the designated hut.

Kain went in first while they waited on the bench outside. In a minute, he ushered them in.

Fealinn smiled approaching Ciri to take her cloak.

"Greetings! I've heard a lot about you from Dandelion. But you're much prettier in person." She looked to Yennefer. "Same as you, Lady Yennefer."

Ciri could not help but be a tad suspicious, even if it had been Kain's idea.

"You know Dandelion?" she asked the beautiful creature smiling at her. Creature, because she was not quite human, was she? There was something shimmering around the edges of her body, like magic. But Ciri could not put her finger on what its purpose was.

"Oh, who doesn't? But yes, I know him, he visits me frequently for massage. I'll explain how I work in a minute." Fealinn stepped around Ciri to Kain, squeezing his arm.

"It's all right, you can go. She's safe here." She took his face in her hands, touching her forehead to his in an elvish expression of feeling, then let go.

Kain nodded and stepped out, closing the door behind him to go get the horses.

Ciri frowned with mild confusion. Had Kain brought her here for a massage? Lured her out under the pretense of getting to practice her powers, when in reality he just wanted someone to babysit her while he and Geralt was gone?

Ciri glanced at Yennefer, who was if possible even more confused than Ciri, watching as she followed the woman with her shrewd gaze. "I'm sorry, what am I doing here exactly?"

Fealinn smiled warmly. "I was under the impression that you needed some guidance concerning your magic. And also by the look of it, you could use some relaxation. You're like a disturbed ball of snakes, hissing and biting. Anger, confusion, impatience, rage... I could help. But if you believe you need no help, you both are free to leave. By the means of a portal, as it has been specified to me."

Ciri frowned again, though this time it was directed inwardly. She peered down at herself as if trying to see what Fealinn saw.

"If I did not believe I do not need help, I would not have come," Ciri said softly. "I simply don't understand how, erm, massages will help me practice my magic." And what qualified her to teach Ciri about the power of Elder Blood? She paused, watching Fealinn curiously. "Are you Aen Elle?"

"I am not a pure blood. More on the side of Aen Seidhe." Fealinn shot a glance Yennefer's way and gestured for the kitchen. "Let me treat you to some cider. Please."

She went to the counter and produced three mugs and a pitcher, poured them all drinks.

"Massage is what I do," she explained. "It's the way I use my power - through my hands. I am a channel that creates a safe space for people to find what they're looking for, be it new ideas, inspiration, answers about themselves, or even mere pleasure. It's up to them what they receive, my work is in making sure they have aid getting it.

"It doesn't mean you should do the same. But it means I could aid you in finding the outlets for your magic, because it's exaggerating your emotions and temper when it's bottled up inside. With that, I could also help you with what I do - let your energy flow through you in a more balanced way. If you would want it, that is."

Ciri followed her to the kitchen and leaned against the table, accepting the cup Fealinn handed her with a grateful smile, listening while she explained.

"I do want it. I want to learn. To not have to constantly hold back. But… I am also scared. My power has been unpredictable and it has also brought out a side of me I don't much care for. Cruelty.

"And my current enemies are using my powers to track me." Ciri looked to Yennefer. "You will have to shield me if this is to work."

"You are safe here," Fealinn said. "I use a shielding magic of my people. I believe it could be enough. But it's my work place that is protected. In the basement. I will show you if you decide to trust me." She sipped her cider.

"I trust you," Ciri said. "Because I trust Kain."

"You are here because he trusts you fully," Fealinn said. "I live in secrecy, posing as a human. Even Dandelion thinks so. No one knows, except for Kain. And now you."

"I will not tell anyone of your secret," Ciri vowed honestly. Who was she to reveal such a thing?

"I know that," Fealinn said, "as well as Kain does."

Ciri finally had a sip of the cider and looked around, a little awkward. "So… how do we begin?"

The elf girl finished her drink, set the mug on the table and looked between her two guests.

"I will ask Lady Yennefer to wait here and have more cider, while you and I proceed to my working space where we begin."

Ciri shot a look at Yennefer and then nodded, putting her own half-empty mug down on the table, ready to follow. "Alright."

Fealinn led Ciri into another room where she removed a small carpet and opened the door beneath it; it revealed a set of stairs. She invited Ciri to come down and followed, pulling the door closed behind her.

She smiled seeing Ciri's curious gaze wandering over the tapestries and candles and lamps that had ignited as soon as they came down. In the middle of the cozy room filled with magic trinkets was a massage table that was arranged like a bed with a couple of round pillows, red and green.

Fealinn fed more logs to a small fireplace in the corner and turned to Ciri.

"I would like to examine you, if you stand straight and still over here? Yes, here. If you trust me."

Ciri tried not to let her gaze wander too much when Fealinn asked her to still, keeping her arms at her sides, fists loosely clutched. She met the elf's gaze. "You have yet to give me a reason not to trust you."

"I hope that won't happen," Fealinn said, taking Ciri's hand and gently loosening it. She looked at the ashen-haired girl with a warm smile. "You're very tense. Very tight, like a string that is about to snap. That creates blocks in your power - where it gets stuck and gathers, stirs your emotions until you explode. That I can help you with - it's easily fixed with my massage and guidance to help you learn how to feel your life force and how it flows. This way you can learn to feel it and direct its flow on your own. Cath said you're talented and learn fast."

"I have reason to be tense," Ciri said softly in a meek defense, swallowing and eyeing their joined hands because this was all very uncomfortable and new. "Cath?"

Fealinn peered at her with amusement, "Gwyncath. I thought you were familiar with his names. White Cat, elvish."

"Right." Ciri nodded, feeling silly. "He introduced himself as Kain, so that's what I've been calling him."

"Kainarel," the elf said, sliding her palm down along the girl's back without touching her. "He used to be Gwyncath as a witcher and in Brokilon. The druid Mousesack called him Kain."

"I remember," Ciri said, tensing slightly when the woman's hand hovered over her back.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Ciri," Fealinn said, taking her hand away and standing in front of the girl that was like a bristled small animal near snarling and pressing its back into a corner. The elf held her hands out to Ciri and smiled an open smile. "I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't want or approve. My work is to heal, not to hurt or damage. Do you trust it?"

Yennefer ventured around the elf's hut, examining her stuff while she was busy with Ciri, slowly sipping her cider, learning as much as she could about her.

"It's hard for me to be touched in certain places," Ciri admitted. "My back being one of them."

She tentatively reached out to take Fealinn's hands.

"I can feel it," the elf said, peering at her with warmth and sympathy. "But I wish to help if you want me to.

"We, all creatures with dense bodies, live on a constant exchange of energy, warmth, life force, sensations - it makes us feel a part of life, a part of the world - in simpler terms, not alone. It is important for every living creature. Not one of them can survive alone.

A touch can harm - you know that already. But a touch can also heal, pass on tenderness, affection, warmth, love. An embrace can heal a soul. A touch, massage, caress, stroke of certain areas can heal, undo the knots and blocks, restore the balance."

Ciri nodded, still unable to fully let go of the tension in her shoulders. "What do I have to do?"

Fealinn studied her a moment with a subtle smile. "You have to trust it and want it. If touch repulses you, we cannot do it."

Ciri swallowed. "Will I have to take my clothes off?"

Fealinn's smile turned sympathetic as she nodded slowly. "With how closed you are, it's best if the contact is skin on skin. So the force flows freely."

Ciri processed that a moment, then nodded again. "Alright."

She started with her boots because it was the easiest, slowly but without further hesitation removing the rest of her clothes as well until she stood bare before the elf.

Fealinn turned away from the girl while she undressed and lit the oil lamps; the smoke began to coil upwards spreading faint herbal and flowery fragrances.

"I know how you feel about being touched in intimate places - we shall avoid it until you feel ready to heal that block. It is all up to you and you alone, Ciri. I will not do anything you don't want me to do. You can stop me any moment you like. We are here for you. I need you to know it."

"I believe you." Ciri fought hard not to give into the urge to cover herself up again, trying to be patient, waiting for whatever it was she was going to do.

Fealinn gestured to the massage table. "Lie down on your stomach and make sure you're comfortable like it's your bed, that your breath is not restricted."

Ciri obeyed, climbing onto the table and positioning herself on her front, adjusting to get as comfortable as she could be at this moment. It was rare that she slept on her stomach. It left her far too vulnerable should someone sneak up on her at night.

Fealinn picked one from a line of vials and rubbed some oil between her palms, then approached her.

"If you trust me, close your eyes and try to relax. I don't know if you have had a massage before, but it will be pleasant. And while you I'm working, try to look within and feel your power, feel how it flows and moves inside you, how you can access it and direct its flow. You understand?"

"I think so." Ciri closed her eyes and breathed deeply in an attempt to drain tension from her muscles, turning her attention inwards.

Fealinn neared her quietly, closed her eyes for a second to focus her magic, then gently lay her hands on Ciri's shoulders, fingers sinking into the skin masterfully, pressing into the right spots and just the right way to coax her muscles to uncoil and loosen up. The elf's magic seeped into Ciri through Fealinn's warm palms to soothe and caress and comfort, to envelop her in the feeling of safety and invigorate at the same time.

Ciri was prepared for Fealinn's hands on her, so she did not flinch when she felt her touch.

The hands that had been fisted at Ciri's side eventually opened the more she managed to relax, and she lost herself in the wonderful feeling the elf was providing her with.

Though it was tempting to give into sleep, Ciri directed her mind to sense for her power like the elf had told her earlier.

Gradually the elf tended to all the muscles and knots that needed work, leaving her body buzzing with pleasure and relaxation.

"If you need to sleep, don't fight it," Fealinn said. "Sometimes healing requires it."

Though Ciri's body craved it, she did not want to sleep. She didn't know what would happen. Would Eredin be waiting?

No, she could not. She focused on the sensations Fealinn was creating inside her instead. That and the source of power within that was pulsing like an emerald green heart. In Ciri's mind, anyway.

Fealinn went from her shoulders and neck to her heels and feet once again, then covered her with a warm plaid and stepped away.

"Relax, give yourself some time to adjust, then get up when you're ready. I'll be here if you want to talk or ask questions."

Fealinn wiped her hands on a towel and fed a log to the fire.

Ciri remained still for a few more moments before she begun to move her fingers and toes, slowly coming up to sit, wrapping the blanket around herself.

"This was very nice," she admitted, eyelids a tad heavier than they had been when she came in. "But I still don't quite understand how this is to help me practice my power."

"When you learn to feel how the power moves through you - you learn to express it and do what you need to do with it, be it healing or battle. It's about how you feel and direct your power, how you guide it to do what you need it to do.

"How well have you felt it? How good was your connection to it?"

"I feel it all the time. I didn't use to when I was a child but once I jumped for the first time, I have never stopped feeling it. It is right here." Ciri placed a hand to her chest. "Just beneath the surface of my skin. Straining. Vibrating. Demanding to be put to use."

"It's good," Fealinn said, smiling. "It's good to be in contact with it. But jumping as you call it is not all there is to it.

"It's a part of you, like blood, it flows through you giving you life. Unlike with blood, however, you can put it to work outside of your body, express it. The question is, what would you like to learn."

"Killing evil Aen Elle would be a start," Ciri murmured, lowering her gaze because she knew that was not the right answer. Not the answer mages wanted to hear.

Fealinn smiled sympathetically and reached for Ciri's hand, squeezing it gently in support.

"I know how you feel. I know how it is to be lost in anger and hatred. But it's not the power to reach for when you want to save and preserve. Anger and rage drain a warrior instead of fueling his strength.

"When you know who you are and what you're fighting for, when you don't let yourself drown in rage and fury to lose self-control - then you can be strong enough to fight your battles.

"When there's too much anger and despair in your life, in your body, you need to find more love to heal it. Search for love, Ciri. Search for it around you, in everything there is in the world, in everyone who loves you, and within yourself. Nurture it like you would a flower you have planted to make it grow. Try to make it grow, and your power will grow with it."

"I have love. I know love. And I try to nurture it, but… those I love, we don't get to spend much time together. We are almost always apart. Even now, in the same city...we are not together. I have become a child again, small and vulnerable in the eyes of those who care about me. Even those who don't. I must be protected. And it hurts me. Every time I am not permitted to take part, to help, because they are afraid for me, it hurts like a blade to my skin."

Ciri was crying silently and was not even aware of it.

Fealinn neared quietly and embraced her, as gently as it goes.

"They love you very much, and they try to protect you because of their fear of losing you. Not because you're a helpless child, but because you and having you with them means everything. Forgive them for it. You need to forgive. Then some of this tension will go away.

"Trust yourself, Ciri. Trust yourself and them. You will find that moment, the opportunity to help if you trust it. It will come. When there is power, there is always a way to use it. It will come."

Ciri let Fealinn embrace her. It actually felt good. And soon enough she found herself crying onto the elf's shoulder, with no idea of why she was weeping in the first place. It seemed silly, like she should pull herself together and buck up, like Vesemir would say. But the tears were cathartic and the more she cried the more Ciri relaxed in the elf's arms.

"I'm sorry," she said once they parted, frowning and awkwardly patting at the wet spot on Fealinn's dress.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Fealinn said, taking her by the shoulders for a moment. "It's all right. It's also a healing. You hold so much inside that it is bound to come out in a blast. Better this way than some other. You need an outlet for emotions and things you feel, it's natural. This is why many people like massage, or sex, or drinking, or fighting - they seek ways to release something that has been gathering inside, something pent up. You need it, too."

"I'm very good at the last two – drinking and fighting. I was raised by Witchers, after all." Ciri wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "Crying was not exactly encouraged. With the Witchers or my grandmother's court."

"Crying is not something to be ashamed of," the elf said. "It's also a way of the body to release tension and pain. It's healthy, and it's not to be blocked by what people believe can be shameful. It's silly. Nature-given ways are never shameful."

Ciri smiled a little. "I shall try to remember it. Thank you for–" she gestured to her, the massage table, and the room in general, "–this. It was nice. New. How am I to pay you?"

"Oh no, it hasn't been arranged by you, and you're not exactly a usual client, so it's not for you to pay me." The elf smiled again. "I would be happy to know I could help with something. But I'm afraid if it's just a massage you have gained, it's not really all you and I could have worked out here.

"That power of yours - what do you use it for? Aside from travel."

"I have healed with it. A unicorn foal when I was young myself. That is the only successful actions I have done while in control of myself. When out of control… I made it rain in the desert. I opened a portal to some hell dimension from which demonic creatures appeared. I shattered The Wild Hunt's skulls by screaming. And I made a man explode with a simple hand movement."

"Oh… well, that is impressive as far as power goes," the elf said with an inscrutable smile. "But healing is a nice skill to practice when one wants to learn control and let more love inside – because this is what you heal with. Love. When you express love with your magic, it's when healing comes out." Her smile widened, "Of course, healing is a skill you use when someone's hurt. And that doesn't happen all the time, I hope. It would be very unfortunate, unless you're a Melitele priestess that helps every sick person that comes from all around the temple."

She regarded Ciri closely.

"You've spent quite some time with Cath… Kain. You've seen him use his magic, I'm sure. His magic is very similar to yours by the feel of it. Are you familiar with the art of empathy?"

"To feel the emotions someone else feels?" Ciri tried a little uncertainly. "Kain says he can read me. Even when he is not trying to. That seems exhausting. My… Yennefer, she can read minds but I don't think what she does makes her an empath."

Fealinn nodded with understanding. "The sorceresses and mages like Yennefer use certain spells to read the thoughts. It's not empathy – it's mind-reading.

"What Kain does is empathy. He uses no spells – his power does the work like your nose does its work by breathing for you. Sense the difference?

"Of course, Kain has been trained since early age and does it without thinking. His power works on habit and catches emotions and feelings of people around him. If he puts efforts in – he could dig deeper. When he doesn't – it's only whiffs, like scents and aromas we catch while walking down a street. We don't try to smell things, but when the smell is strong enough, we do. Because we have a nose. It's how it is with his magic.

"If you wish to learn it – you start with small practice. Easiest is a touch. You learn to direct your magic into your hands and through them – into the one you touch to read them. People are great to practice, but one can start with animals. Any animals.

"Imagine an example: you go into the woods for a walk, and there is a wolf. It walks out of the shrubs, snarling, drool dripping off its fangs, scruff bristled, it's readying to attack. What do you do? Brought up by witchers, you pull your sword. Cath, brought up by druids and witchers, sends an impulse to the animal that pacifies it. No killing needed. Empathy is reading emotions of other people. But it can work the other way when one is strong enough – you can send emotions, pass it on like a message. Any creature is capable of recognizing love when they feel it. It is a universal language – the one of feelings."

"So, I should practice with love? Sending love? To the people and animals in my life?"

"Or you could start with reading them – animals and people in your life." Fealinn squinted cunningly, "You have animals? You probably have a horse. Start there. Stroke it, caress it, touch it, and through that touch, reach out with your power to that horse and sense, probe for what it feels at this moment. There is always emotion, always a feeling to read. Learn to read it. Feel it. And then, you learn to send it to animals that don't know you."

"I do have a horse. Well, we have each other." Ciri nodded. "I can do that. I can try."

"Good," the elf nodded. "You also have Yennefer. She can help you train to communicate with your mind. Let her think of something, an image, a person, a word – anything you two can think of – and you take her hand and try to reach out with your magic and find that information. It is another exercise I offer you try. I am sure it can be entertaining, given Lady Yennefer is a mage that cares a lot about you. It's always more favorable to train with friends and family. It can be like a game. Children learn in games. Adults are not that different."

Ciri had to smile a little. She could not imagine Yennefer playing, as such. But she knew the sorceress would indulge her.

"Are you—" Ciri gestured to the space around Fealinn's head. "Are you using some kind of glamour? For the humans?"

"Yes, I use my magic to suggest things to humans," the elf confessed. "It's more like hypnosis. They see me the way I suggest they do. It's keeping me alive around this city. Kain is the only one who knows the truth. Now you do, too."

"Could I learn to do that? To make people see me as something other than I am?"

Fealinn shrugged, "It might be possible. If your power gets strong enough and you learn to reach out to people with it, you can send them strong enough impulses, images, thoughts that would stay with them. But it comes with training. You could damage someone's mind if you do not know how to do what you want to do. The human mind is a very complicated world of its own. It has so many defensive mechanisms that they could overlap in funny ways and make permanent blocks, blank spots, or form madness."

"With caution, then." Ciri had known that particular one had been too good to be true. "At a later time."

The elf nodded. "Yes. Rushing magic skills doesn't make them better. Practice does."

"How do you know Kain?"

Fealinn's mouth twitched subtly in amusement. "Brokilon. We both had found a sanctuary there for a while. I wasn't there when the battle happened, and I heard he died along with Morénn, the queen's daughter. I never returned there, found a new life for myself. We met here, a day ago, by accident. Dandelion sent him here."

"You knew her? Morénn?"

"I did. Not too closely – we weren't like sisters or even close friends. But all of us non-humans who were taking refuge in Brokilon knew the Queen's daughter. She was a fierce warrior and would be a good leader."

Ciri nodded. "The good die young. Is that not the saying?"

"Everybody dies, old and young," the elf said. "Even the initially immortal ones die. When their time comes. Things like wars, however, rush that time. It's a shame."

"It is." Vesemir and Coen's faces flashed before Ciri's mind. "Can I put my clothes back on?"

Fealinn laughed. "Of course, Ciri. No need to ask. You are in control, remember?"

"Right." She smiled slightly and slipped off the table, moving to where she had left her clothes in order to put them on. "You said I were not like your usual clients. What did you mean by that?"

"Usually it's men. Somehow humans believe men deserve a massage while women don't, unless they're the ones who love women. Most perceive my work a certain way until they experience it. Some use it like they wish to perceive it – they come for intimate pleasure without bearing the guilt of lying to their spouses. Because they can say with certainty there has been nothing that qualifies as sex. Just like they don't call their self-pleasuring an act."

"Has anyone ever tried to go further?" Ciri fastened her belt and knelt down to pull on her boots. "To be more physical, I mean?"

"Of course. There's always men like that. No way around it – unless you use magic like I do. I can deal with such. They don't remember being like this with me."

"Shouldn't they? Remember, I mean? So they can learn from their lesson?"

"I don't teach lessons," the elf said. "I merely suggest they do not get those ideas when they are with me."

"That is fair." Ciri stood up when her boots were on. "I hope to be able to handle those situations better someday."

"Better?"

"In the past I was, at times, too afraid to handle it at all. I was defeated before they even touched me.

"And now… If anyone were to try… I would kill them. Without a doubt."

"I see." The elf nodded, contemplative. "I understand. I used to be like you. I used to react that way when I felt I could. Now, my life is different. I chose it so. The price for peace and life is maintaining peace. Which is why I do not teach such lessons, anymore. I have to be invisible in order to have life and peace. I have to be impossible to remember enough to be recognized in the crowd."

"All I have to do is lower my hood and I will be recognized. Maybe someday it will be different. I hope so."

"If you would be recognized everywhere, you wouldn't be here at all, Ciri," the elf reasoned. "Your hair color is rare, but not unique. You're not utterly exposed in this world. Only those who know you, _know_ you. It could have been much worse. Like with Lady Yennefer – she gets recognized far more."

"And yet that is what everyone tells me: Stay inside or you'll be recognized." Ciri smiled a little, shrugging. "Maybe I should take your advice and simply accept the concerns of an overprotective father."

Fealinn smiled. "Even if they want you to stay hidden and safe, you know now what you could busy yourself with. When you get better with magic, no one will deny that you can do more than before. No one will deny you chances to aid them. Make them see it and be proud."

"I will." She just needed Yennefer's help to mask the magic while she practiced.

Ciri hesitated. "I do not even know your name…"

"People know me as Melika," she said. "It's how one can find me. Kain knows me as Fealinn. My real name."

"Fealinn," Ciri tasted the name on her tongue. "Beautiful."

"Thank you. Wish to come up to Yennefer?"

"Yes. She probably tires of waiting."

Ciri headed for the stairs that would take them back to the upper floor.


	29. Chapter 29

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* * *

"I know this house," Geralt murmured when Avallac'h led them into a small yard beyond a stone fence. "I was supposed to drive a godling out of here."

"Did you?" Kain asked.

Geralt nodded. "It was Sarah. You saw her with Johnny on the Bald Mountain. I believe she feels better there, having a company. She was all alone in here. It's not a good way to be for anyone."

Avallac'h didn't listen to them, walking straight to the front door and inside. The witchers jogged after him and to the basement.

"The passage should be here, beyond this wall."

The said wall was broken through, revealing a chamber that seemed to be a part of some older building. Ancient elven ruins Novigrad was built upon.

The swirl of golden light was shining in a stony arch. The portal.

"Once we're through, there's no way back until we reach Ge'els," Avallac'h said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Geralt said, glancing at Kain. "Let's go."

"Remember," the elf added, "wherever you land, search for a place like this one. We will meet sooner or later."

"You mean we'll be separated?" Geralt asked.

"It is possible. I lack the talent of your ward. Zireael is The Lady of Time and Space. I merely know how to use this arcane knowledge to a limited degree." He turned to the portal, sober and collected. "It is time."

He went in. Kain and Geralt looked at each other, and approached the glowing light. Geralt heaved a sigh and shook his head.

"I hate portals…"

"I can relate," Kain said, and stepped in.

Geralt groaned quietly and followed.

They weren't separated. Geralt showed up last, and all three of them were together.

The world around them was yellow and brown, with dry winds and blazing sun overlooking a vast wasteland of red mountains and sand. Here and there were black and dried out trunks of trees that died a long time ago. Some fragments of what seemed to be walls carved of stone sank in the sea of sand. Kain felt nothing live around, nothing he was used to. The world itself felt alien to him.

Avallac'h was studying Kain closely while Geralt was rubbing his forehead to get rid of dizziness.

"How do you feel?" the elf inquired, his eyes narrowing beneath his hood.

"Like I'm not in Novigrad anymore," Kain said. "It's unsettling."

The Sage nodded slowly, pensively, and turned to Geralt to assess before he began to walk ahead, and the others followed.

"Where are we?" Geralt asked.

"Welcome to the Ddiddiwedht Desert," the elf said.

"Yeah, it says nothing to me," the witcher responded.

"Was not supposed to," the Sage said. "Don't slow down, we have to hurry."

"What is this place?" Geralt wanted to know.

"A very old world," the Sage complied. "Thoroughly raped and destroyed. Of all life, there are only desert creatures capable of surviving months on end without water. And large sandcrabs beneath the surface. We must be careful they don't sense us."

"Hardly it's possible," Kain put in. "If they hunt things like us, they already know."

"Mayhap," the Sage said. "Then you shall use your swords if necessary."

"Who lived here before?" Geralt asked. "People or elves?"

Avallac'h smirked. "You think humanoids have a monopoly on destroying worlds? This desert used to be an ocean in its best days. But oceans dry out and die. In time. A very, very long time."

"So, just creatures of the sea, then," the witcher said.

"There are many different worlds, Geralt, and many diverse forms of life, some more intelligent than you humans. But turns out not even their high intellect can prevent them from exhausting the resources of their world to the very last drop."

They walked the remaining patch in silence until Avallac'h stopped in front of a round construction of a few tall rocks. "The portal," he announced.

"Looks like some ruins to me," Geralt commented.

"Appearances can be deceiving," Avallac'h played back. "It shall open any moment. We have to wait."

As soon as they stopped, they felt something strange happening beneath their feet. The ground appeared to be vibrating.

"What is that?" Geralt asked, looking around at the ground as if expecting it to grow tentacles.

"The crabs must have sensed our presence," the Sage said. "Just like your young friend said."

Geralt made a face, "Wonderful."

They did indeed come, and looked like overgrown beetles with mighty legs and heavy, strong armored backs that shone in the sun like green and blue gems. They screeched nastily and ran very fast. Geralt had a hard time throwing signs at them while Avallac'h exercised his battle magic with a staff he had summoned from thin air.

Kain had no time to connect to the world's magic, but his own was enough to help Geralt's signs and set the beetles on fire. But more were coming, and if the shaking ground was any indication, that fountain wouldn't go dry.

Eventually, a swirl of lights flashed to life among the rocks, and they threw the last wave of the beetles back before diving in.

Next world met Geralt on his lonesome. No sign of Avallac'h or Kain, only a vast valley of red plants and green moss among tall black rocks sticking up like dead man's fingers.

He surveyed the valley and spotted the golden light ahead. It seemed like a long journey. But there was no choice.

Soon enough he found out the hard way that all around the red plants there were pockets of unbreathable air. It was like poison that stung inside the airways as soon as he breathed it in. The godawful plants were everywhere, and Geralt could only breathe on the elevated spots – on the rocks and hills. Not too many were there on his way to the portal. As he ran and held his breath and choked, he kept thinking about Ciri.

What would she do if Geralt returned and Kain didn't?

It was a horrid thought, the one he hated having popped in his head, but there was nothing he could do to push it out. It even occurred to him a couple of times that this poisonous air was a bit on the drug-like side.

Next portal spat Geralt out underwater. He almost breathed in, and managed to stop himself the last second. Thankfully, the next gateway was a few dozen yards away, otherwise he would have been a dead man. The pressure was crushing his bones and vessels, and it was hard to swim.

The next world started in a dark but huge cave with quite an echo. Geralt rolled out right behind Kain, coughing and gasping for air, dripping wet. Same as Kain.

"Great to see you," he managed, getting up.

"Likewise."

They looked around, walking through the cave. There was a passage ahead, and they went there. It was getting colder and colder, until they stopped in front of a wall of ice blocking the exit. Beyond that, there was a lot of white.

Geralt rubbed his arms and shoulders, his breath coming out in white puffs.

"I don't like this," he shared. "Especially with how soaked we are."

"I can try to rectify it," Kain said, rubbing my hands together to get the magic flowing. He closed his eyes for quicker concentration and expanded the power from within, sending waves of magical heat through and out of his body to pass through the clothes and boots, drying them.

When he was done, Kain walked around Geralt sweeping his palms around him until the Witcher stopped shivering. Geralt cast an amazed look Kain's way.

"You're a life saver."

Kain shrugged. "I have my uses."

Geralt smirked, "So do I at times," and shot Aard into the wall of ice.

It shattered outwards like glass, revealing a world of snow and blizzard. The sun was shining over the snowy mountains ahead, but the blizzard was blowing the snow around, and its winds were like literal blades. It stung and cut and pierced right through as they ran.

"We can't bear it for long," Geralt panted when they hid behind a rock formation of a mountain slope to catch their breath. "We'll have to run from shelter to shelter. Or we'll die."

"Is there really a village down ahead?"

"I believe so," he said. "A dead village. This world is dead, like that desert."

"White Frost? Is that it?"

"It seems like that to me. Are you ready?"

"Yes. I'll use my power, and you try the shielding sign."

He nodded and cast Quen. Then they ran.

They slid down the icy slopes and hills and mounds of snow into the village that sat amidst the mountains. It was buried in snow so deep only the roofs peeked out. They took refuge in attics and balconies and behind the roofs until they reached the middle and stopped for a few moments in another attic.

Geralt came up to a small window and peeked outside. The blizzard raged, but there was a tower that looked like a lighthouse, and right under its pointy roof, there was light.

Fire.

"That must be him," Geralt said. "The only living thing around here."

"Not too far," Kain estimated.

"We'll make it in one go, if we run fast."

"Doable."

They ran very fast. But it wasn't fast enough.

The need to hide and get warm caught them midway, and they broke into the upper floor of what looked like a church. It was all covered in frost inside. The cold was not as biting, but it still soaked you through like water.

A growling met them at the other window when they were about to brace themselves and go outside. Two Wild Hunt hounds squeezed into the window and advanced at them.

"I should've known," Geralt said. "The Hunt and Frost come hand in hand."

The witchers bared their swords, and the hounds attacked. The fight warmed them up a bit, but the hounds were resilient and angry. They were grateful there were just two. There were no more outside when they ran for the beacon. It wasn't far, and they managed to reach it, coughing and shaking, their teeth clattering.

They found the Sage on the first floor in a round room with a huge bust of a hooded figure and a basin of fire burning next to it like a shrine. Avallac'h was resting on the bench at the wall.

"Took you a while," he remarked. "Did you run into trouble?"

"No, just taking in the sights," Geralt jibed, looking around. "What is this place? Looks familiar."

"You fought Eredin's projection here," Avallac'h said. "And before that, Ciri fought here. For you."

Geralt looked annoyed and confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Ever wondered how you managed to leave the Red Riders?" Avallac'h asked.

"Many times," Geralt said. "But I don't remember a thing."

"Zireael came for you," the Sage revealed. "She sensed you were in danger, tore you from their grasp, then deposited you in the woods near Kaer Morhen."

Shock and heartache streamed through Geralt; he wished he could remember anything at all, but his mind wouldn't cooperate. What Avallac'h was saying could as well be someone else's story. A fairy tale.

Another thing was a stab to Geralt's heart, however. He stared into the fire, unable to look Avallac'h in the face. "Did Eredin start hunting her because of it? Because of me? Why wouldn't she say anything?"

Avallac'h peered at him with his cold eyes. "What would it have changed?"

Geralt sighed, pushing the dark thoughts away for later. Now they had different matters to resolve. "What is this place?" he asked. "Aen Elle world?"

"No. This is Tedd Deireadh, Time of the End. The world destroyed by the White Frost. Alas, this awaits us all, though in different stages of our existence."

"You're so calm when you say it," Geralt marveled.

"Eredin succumbed to his knowledge of the apocalypse," the Sage said. "Fear rules him now. I shall not commit the same error."

Geralt frowned, "Care to clarify?"

"Not here, not now."

"We probably should go," Kain put in from across the room.

"As soon as the gate opens," the Sage said and pointed at a wall.

They spent the remaining minutes in silence, each thinking of his own. The gate flared suddenly, without warning, and they proceeded through.

* * *

Yennefer was indeed getting antsy and all but dashed to Ciri when she appeared.

"Are you all right? What have you been doing there?"

"Oh, nothing worth of worry," Fealinn said. "She will tell you all about it at home. I believe Kain has taken your horses back, so you will have to portal." She looked at Ciri with a warm smile. "I was happy to meet you."

Ciri gave Yennefer a reassuring smile to calm her nerves, then turned back to Fealinn, reaching out to take her hands in hers. "And I you. Thank you for today."

"You know where to find me if you need me," Fealinn said, squeezing her hands. "Be brave and be safe."

"You too."

Ciri turned back to Yennefer. She swiped an arm through the air and a portal of swirling gold opened before them. After one last look of gratitude at Fealinn, Ciri stepped through with Yennefer close on her heels.

They arrived back in Ciri's room at Dandelion's inn a second later, and the portal faded.

"So," Yennefer arched an eyebrow, "should I ask or you feel like sharing something? Who is she to your boy?"

"A friend," Ciri said, loosening the upper clasps of her jacket. "Knew each other from Brokilon, apparently. But she thought he had died."

"Until now, I assume?" The sorceress regarded Ciri pensively. "Perhaps it's the reason he doesn't look at your chest and doesn't touch you."

Ciri blinked. "Excuse me?"

Yennefer sighed, looking apologetic. "Forgive me, Ciri. I'm merely trying to understand. You're my pride and joy, a dream for any man out there. This boy would not be an exception, unless he has someone else in his heart."

"You're biased," Ciri said, smiling and reaching out to touch Yennefer's cheek very tenderly. "I like her. She is a good woman. If he does have feelings for her, who am I to try and get between them? All I can do is make sure he knows how I feel, so when the time comes he can make a well-informed decision for himself."

_So calm now. _It was strange but pleasant. Ciri wondered how long it would last.

"What was she doing with you that made you like her?" Yennefer inquired with a smile.

"We started with a massage. Though, in truth, I think it was more of a healing session. And then we talked. About my powers and how I can start to practice using them. It was good. I feel I have a small inkling as to how to proceed now."

"And how would that be?"

"Empathy." Ciri expected Yennefer knew all about that, being a skilled sorceress herself, but she decided to expand anyway. "Practice on people and animals to gauge their current emotional state, and to send loving and healing energy back to them when needed."

Yennefer nodded, pleased. "Not a bad idea. Read Geralt. He never admits to what's happening in his emotions."

Ciri snorted. "Shouldn't I start with someone less impossible? Like Dandelion?"

"My darling child," Yennefer smiled a carnivorous smile. "Nothing is impossible for magic as strong as yours. Besides, if we would give up every time something seemed hard to do, nothing would ever get done."

"Oh, I never said I would give up. Only that I might start with an easier target than Geralt."

"What about your boy?" Yennefer smirked cunningly. "Easier target?"

"Not in the least. Harder than Geralt, I would say. I've known Geralt longer. I can recognize certain facial expressions he makes. Mostly when he is annoyed with me or disturbed by something I've told him. Kain's face is…" Ciri made a sweeping motion over her own face. "More like a blank slate. Except when he is feeling confused. Also, usually by something I have said."

"No one's face is a blank slate unless it's a spy on an interrogation, Ciri. Is he truly so… blank around you?"

Ciri shrugged. "Depends on what we are talking about, I suppose."

Yennefer frowned, reflecting, then gave a sympathetic smile, reaching out to stroke Ciri's cheek tenderly. "Witchers and mages just don't mix, it seems. They're wonderful in bed but awful outside of it."

Ciri tried not to giggle. "He's both. I consider him more of a mage than a witcher. He was born with magic and he did not go through the mutations. Kind of like me."

"Mmm," Yennefer hemmed and looked at Ciri with mild amusement. "Does that help you understand him better?"

Ciri considered that for a moment before answering. "It makes me feel like he understands me better. When he gives me advice, he speaks from experience. Experience similar to my own."

"When he can read you and you can't read him - it's an alarming trait for a woman," Yennefer remarked. "Men don't deserve such power. It's too grand for them."

"Any other man, and I would agree," Ciri said. "But I trust him. My magic trusts him. He would never do anything to purposely hurt me."

"I hope it is going to remain this way."

"Only the future will tell. But since that has not happened yet and may never happen, there is no point obsessing over it."

The sorceress simpered, "Is that a new drift?"

"A philosophy I am trying to adopt. To save myself a lot of unnecessary pain and fear."

"It would be wonderful. You can't carry as much as you tend to do, my dear."

"Habits are hard to break. But I am stubborn, so I expect I will be able to do it."

"You know, my level of faith in you is limitless." Yennefer pulled her into a hug. "Same as Geralt's. You're our perfection. The greatest gift. You can do anything you will want."

Ciri wrapped her arms around the sorceress' waist and buried her face in her hair. She smelled so damned good. Always had.

"Thank you. Thank you for letting me be your daughter."

"Oh, Ciri, my darling girl," Yennefer breathed, "the honor is mine."

Ciri smiled into her hair before they parted. "I am going to check on Kelpie. The stable boys here are nice, but they never truly know how to handle her."

"Of course," Yennefer released her reluctantly.

Ciri hesitated. "Are you alright?"

Yennefer nodded, smiling for Ciri's sake. "Don't worry about me, I'm totally fine."

She was lying. Ciri could tell. But Yennefer was much like Geralt; it was hard to get her to open up.

"I will be in the stables if you need me," she said, squeezing Yennefer's hand one last time before heading out.

The sorceress nodded, "I know."

Ciri found Kelpie in the stables as expected, still a little warm from their earlier ride. She brought her outside where she could groom and brush her, trying to extend her feelers to discover what it was the mare needed and wanted. Ciri wasn't sure it fully counted as magic as much as intuition. It probably would not be enough for Eredin to catch her scent.

* * *

"Is this Tir Ná Lia?" Geralt asked, looking around. They were in a palace with high ceilings and carved arches.

"The Palace of Awakening," the elf said, and Geralt heard pride in his voice. "Formerly the Moon Palace. Ge'els' headquarters."

They strolled out onto a veranda with flowers blooming in flowerbeds of white stone with carved leaves and branches and grapes. From the wide balcony there was a marvelous view opening beneath them – their city filled with beautiful houses and amazing gardens that looked like heaven compared to the world Geralt was born in. Fountains sat strategically amidst the city's yards with people resting near them and talking and sharing drinks. Some were painting, others reading, thirds discussing things that mattered. No fights, no poverty, no homeless stinking elves in rugs asking for a coin on the corners of their streets. It was amazing to see it all without pinching oneself on the arm to make sure it's for real.

They descended a few staircases of white marble, marveling at the city below, until Avallac'h brought them to a balcony currently occupied by an artist and his model who sat naked on a spread silky cover.

The artist stepped around his canvas and revealed himself to be the man they had been looking for.

"I believe we're done for the day, my tulip," he drawled, eyeballing the newcomers. "Be a dear and leave us alone."

The model – a beautiful elvish girl with a sophisticated hairdo, did as she was asked.

"I think we all agree that this matter is between us and us alone," Ge'els told them, his pale-gold eyes stopping on Kain's face with inquiry and fascination alike. Even with his elvish blood, Kain stood half a foot shorter than Eredin's general.

"That is correct," Geralt said, and waved a hand Kain's way. "He is with us in this fight as rightfully as any other present."

"Interesting," Ge'els drawled, scrutinizing Kain, then his eyes shot to Avallac'h – briefly as it was, Geralt sensed some mute exchange he didn't like, nor deciphered. "Very well," the general summed up. "Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha and the Witcher of Rivia with his… witcher friend. Ceádmil." He bowed his head slowly, with flourish. "Do you like my new model? Something of Lara Dorren about her, wouldn't you agree, Crevan?"

Avallac'h didn't seem pleased with the assessment. "Her height, perhaps. Nothing more."

"Ah, I see I've touched a tender spot," the general said, strolling away toward a brazier, his hands locked behind him. "Let us change the subject. Care for a drink?"

Geralt smirked. "Got any vodka?"

Ge'els grimaced subtly and shook his head.

"Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting you don't touch that filth, disgraceful as it is."

Ge'els hemmed, looking either amused or annoyed. "I must admit, you appearing here – quite a surprise, Witcher. Incidentally, interesting choice of allies. Do you believe Avallac'h is honest with you? Just curious…"

"No, but it's rather a desperate time for our world and my family in particular. He's honest about things that concern the battle, and it is better than nothing."

"Family…" Ge'els mused. "Strange choice of words for a witcher, I may add. But, given it's a guild or at least close to that, you are probably not utterly unfamiliar with the meaning. I could give it the benefit of the doubt. But as for the allies matter, naivety is a fool's blessing, Gwynbleidd." He glanced between Geralt and the Sage, briefly sliding his gaze over Kain with the same imperceptible pause. "I detect a shadow of impatience in your faces, it seems," he said. "What brings you here?"

"I've come to tell you who killed our king," Avallac'h said.

Ge'els was quiet for a long moment, his back facing them as he overlooked the city. "You've gone through a lot of trouble to reach me," he said finally. "So I must believe you've put equal effort into preparing this lie."

"You shall see the truth yourself," the Sage said. "You will dream it."

"You've an oneiromancer?" Ge'els scoffed softly. He was quiet for a while longer, then said, "My intuition was correct. This will be interesting."

"Better believe it," Geralt said, stepping to him. "Shall we go?"

"Witcher Geralt, a true man of action," the general commented. "Might I know where we're going?"

"To the world of the Aen Seidhe," Avallac'h said. "Directly, this time."

"Let's go," Geralt said. "Before any guards show up."

* * *

Priscilla found Ciri after a while, a scroll of parchment in hand.

"Hey Ciri. Your elf friend asked me to give you this. Couldn't find you before."

Ciri lowered the brush she had been using and took the scroll. "Yennefer and I were out on an errand. Thank you."

She followed Priscilla with her gaze as the woman left, then unfolded the piece of parchment to read the message Avallac'h had scribbled there:

_"Zireael._

_In a room at The Golden Sturgeon is a woman named Corinne Tilly. Bring her to me. She knows what it is about._

_Avallac'h."_

Ciri considered the message another few seconds before stuffing it into her pocket, praying this was not a concubine she was supposed to fetch for the elf.

After putting Kelpie away, Ciri headed for The Golden Sturgeon. Bea directed her to Corinne's room and once she told Corinne Avallac'h's name she did not hesitate in following Ciri.

They arrived back at the inn an hour after Ciri had left and moved upstairs to Avallac'h's room.

It was huge. And much prettier than the rest.

"Are you able to tell me what this is about?" Ciri asked.

Corinne shook her head, taking a seat on the bed. "No. Your friend said he needed my talent."

"What is your talent?"

"I am an oneiromancer."

Ciri paused for a second. "You use dreams for divination?"

She nodded.

Ciri wondered what Avallac'h had in mind but it did not seem Corinne knew much more than Ciri.

They waited in silence.

* * *

"I believe I need not introduce our guest," Avallac'h said when they entered his suite to find Corinne and Ciri inside.

Ge'els shot a look Ciri's way, his lips twitched in a cold smile. "Zireael. Been a while."

"Not long enough," Ciri replied, looking the general up and down before focusing on Kain and Geralt. They seemed to be all right.

"So it is true," Ge'els said. "The Swallow has befriended the Fox. Avallac'h blackmailed you - do you not remember? Forced you to warm our king's bed. Treated your body like a side of pork."

Ciri placed her hands on her hips. "I remember. I also remember what you advised Eredin to do with me once he caught me. Quite similar intentions you and Avallac'h had in mind."

Kain would have assumed Geralt was in the loop but the Witcher looked slightly shocked with all the insinuations flying back and forth. Kain felt utterly misplaced and fought a horribly strong urge to leave them to it. Unwittingly, he made a step or two back inching toward the door.

The need to punch them both in their noble faces was close to unbearable for Geralt. Only it was all for Ciri, and it wouldn't help her cause. He had to fist his hands to stop himself and keep his rage in check.

"Let us not stray from what we are here for," Avallac'h offered, looking between his kin and Ciri.

"I have nothing against seeing the proof you have promised," Ge'els agreed.

"You will see it," Avallac'h promised. "In your dream."

He gestured for Corinne who looked torn between confusion and attempting to uphold her professionalism.

Ge'els cast a gander at her. "Ah, yes, the oneiromancer. Visions that cannot be fabricated. Do you wish to show me how Eredin murdered our king? What then? Am I to incite the Aen Elle against Eredin? Call for a revolution and proclaim Avallac'h our new king?"

"You will do what you choose," Geralt said. "All we want is for you to know the truth. What you do with it is your business."

Ge'els thought it over and nodded. "Very well."

"We all shall witness it," Avallac'h said while Corinne lay down on the bed. "To avoid any misunderstandings."

He approached the woman and touched two fingers to her forehead.

She rolled her eyes showing whites, and their vision flashed in black, then white, and then they saw the throne room.

On the elvish throne with its back to them, sat the king. His arm lay on the armrest, a vial in his hand.

His fingers loosened around it, his breath became labored. The vial dropped with a clang and rolled across the stone floor, hitting a metal armored boot.

A metal glove hand picked it up.

"The king is dead," Eredin said, eyeing the vial with his pale gaze aflame with satisfaction. "Long live the king."

Ciri had not stuck around to watch Eredin find Auberon's dead body, though she had been the one to tell him he had died. She had been there when it happened, after all. Eredin had feigned surprise, but in this vision of what must have happened mere minutes after Ciri escaped, he was gleeful, happy.

When they resurfaced, Ge'els had moved over to the open balcony door, looking out in thoughtful silence. No one spoke. Not until he finally did.

"You must face him on your own terms, in this world, in a place of your choosing. It's your only chance. Sail to Skellige and find the Sunstone. With it, you will summon Naglfar. Eredin will come, too."

His hands behind his back, Ge'els finally turned to face them, his eyes on Avallac'h, then Ciri. "Should he call for reinforcement, no Aen Elle will answer."

Ciri inhaled air of subtle hope then, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"You have done a thing most just," Avallac'h said. "A new portal to Tir Ná Lia will open soon. I shall stabilize it and you will return. Come with me."

Ciri smiled, watching the two elves exit the room, then turned to embrace Geralt happily.

Geralt squeezed Ciri gently in his embrace, happy to feel her hope rekindled. He closed his eyes savoring the moment of having her safe and in his arms. He missed her and kept failing to spend more time with her as if he wasn't grateful to have her back. It couldn't be farther from the truth, and Geralt's heart ached in realization of how this stupid war, those elvish bastards still kept her away from him even while she was right here, in the same space.

Geralt noticed Kain sneak away onto the balcony to leave them to it, despite Corinne still recovering on the bed.

"Were you in the land of the Aen Elle?" Ciri asked, speaking against Geralt's shoulder.

"Yes. At Ge'els' residence. We saw their city - it was beautiful."

"Isn't it just?" she breathed. "I will not grieve the loss of certain Aen Elle, but I will grieve the loss of that beauty."

"It's tragic how such beauty can harbor such people."

"I don't think they are all evil." Ciri pulled away and looked over to Corinne. "Will she be okay?"

Geralt glanced at the woman as she sat up and drank some water, looking better.

"She is fine. She's accustomed to it."

"You know her?"

"She tried to help me find you. I had a vision about you and Dandelion, it gave me a lead."

Ciri appreciated the lengths he had gone to in order to find her. She smiled, squeezing Geralt's hand in hers. "Shall we go find something to eat? I am starving."

"I suppose it's not a bad idea." Geralt turned to Corinne. "Will you join us for a meal? On the house."

"Oh," she pondered, then smiled, standing up and straightening her skirt. "I will be glad. Thank you."

Ciri let Geralt and Corinne go, poking her head out the balcony to find Kain.

"Coming down to eat, Kain?"

Her voice yanked Kain from a meditative state as he watched over the city. It had begun to rain. "Yes. I'll come."

"A floren for your thoughts," she offered, watching him front the doorway.

"I wasn't thinking about anything specific," he said, glancing back at the city roofs. "Just looking at the scenery."

"Was it a hard journey to find Ge'els?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle. Just a few worlds in between, and one taken by the White Frost."

Geralt returned to the suite and found Ciri and Kain still standing on the balcony.

"Avallac'h still away?" he asked. They nodded. Geralt jerked a thumb back over his shoulder, "Corinne is waiting for her meal downstairs, and I wanted a word with the elf. Ciri, what is your assessment of Ge'els? Can we trust him?"

"The Aen Elle can be elusive and tight-lipped with information, but they rarely lie. Once they make agreements, it is a great shame to their person if they break it. I think he loved Auberon enough to want Eredin gone."

Geralt winced, pondering her words. "Wouldn't want to think we let him off too easily."

Ciri shrugged. "He advises. He doesn't ride with Eredin. It is not his sword that kills innocents. I am not saying he is without fault, but my impression has always been he is attempting to take care of his people instead of serving his own greedy ambitions."

"He wasn't lying," Kain said from the balcony. "He intends to keep his word."

Geralt squinted, "How do you know?"

Kain shrugged, "I just do, because it's how he felt. He wouldn't lie to himself in his own thoughts."

"You read his thoughts?"

"No, I read how he felt. He was genuine."

"Empathy is an impressive gift," Avallac'h said, strolling toward them. His eyes were studying Kain. "Underdeveloped, this gift can cause a person to perceive emotions of others as his own. You know the difference. It's rare with such a chaotic force as people's emotions are. It's not a druid gift."

"What are you getting at with this?" Geralt asked, folding his arms with a frown.

"That a simple cross-breed between humans and Aen Seidhe doesn't bestow so many powers. Unless the parents are special. Who are your parents, boy?"

"My mother is a druid," Kain said, looking bristled. "I never knew my father."

"It is highly unlikely that your mother is a simple druid," Avallac'h insisted. "She is a sorceress, isn't she?"

"A healer druid," Kain repeated.

Avallac'h watched him pointedly. "You lie. Why do you lie?"

"Leave him," Ciri said, instantly stepping between Kain and Avallac'h, her back to the former. "He does not have to justify his ancestry to anyone here. He is no longer on trial, remember?"

Avallac'h paid absolutely no mind to Ciri's interjection, his eyes boring into Kain's as if trying to read the answers in his mind. Geralt doubted even the Sage could manage.

"I'm not your enemy," he said calmly. "But it's important. Why do you lie? Because she is still alive, is she not? You know her. She never broke contact with you after giving you to witchers? She must have maintained her contact with you, but given your secrecy, it must be by means other than face to face. Your abundance of gifts includes telepathy, doesn't it?"

Kain held the elf's glare and kept quiet as if no questions had been asked. Geralt was beginning to feel uneasy.

Ciri did not like any of these questions either. And she especially did not like them pointed at Kain now she knew what the Crone had told him back on Bald Mountain. Ciri was very willing to believe the possibility of Kain being Elder Blood, but it was never something she was going to disclose to anyone else. She knew what that meant, even if Kain did not just yet.

"Stop it," she said, eyes on Avallac'h as she reached back to find Kain's hand with her own, a show of support. "You have no right."

"You are mistaken, Zireael," Avallac'h said without even looking at her. His pale grey eyes were locked firmly on Kain's, he was unrelenting.

"What is that supposed to mean, Sage?" Geralt asked. "You will have to explain yourself, or this discussion is over."

Avallac'h's lips twitched subtly in the smallest of sneers, then he turned away and strolled to his table, rummaged in the stack of drawings before returning to Kain with one, holding it to him.

"Is that your mother?"

Kain cast a brief gander at the sketch before darting his eyes back to the elf, and, to Geralt's disappointment, he didn't notice any answer in his inscrutable face. Kain kept silent.

Geralt stepped toward Avallac'h and snatched the drawing.

A cold shiver ran through his spine and spilled into his arms and legs and neck. Geralt squeezed Kain's shoulder, pushing him away from Ciri and back into the balcony with him, his other hand holding the drawing before him.

"Is this your mother? Kain, is she?!"

"Geralt!" Ciri exclaimed in utter surprise, trailing him and Kain to the balcony. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Ciri's voice was far and away, in another world altogether. Geralt barely registered it and forgot, his focus on Kain's face, fingers white in their grip on the sketch.

"Is she?" Geralt repeated. "You have to tell me."

Kain stared at him with astonishment and some kind of gauging in his expression that made Geralt think he was calculating some conclusions of his own. But Geralt doubted he found anything that made sense. It barely made sense to Geralt himself, but he had to make him say it. Make him _deny_ it. It scared him that Kain didn't.

Because he couldn't?

"Tell me!" Geralt demanded.

He didn't say a thing.

All he gave Geralt was one imperceptible nod, as if performed against his will.

Geralt slowly released Kain's shoulder, backing away like in a dream where it's hard to move. He shoved the drawing at Avallac'h's chest and went into the room with unsteady steps like a drunk, his head buzzing.

"What is happening?" Ciri was so confused and befuddled by the sudden outburst of testosterone, she did not even know who to direct her questions at. She reached for the drawing and peered down at it. "Who is she?"

"Apparently, your witchers are quite informed," Avallac'h commented, folding his arms.

"This is your sketch!" Ciri said, holding it out to him before she looked at Kain. And then at Geralt. "Explain. _Please_."

"I presume it is quite obvious that the woman in the picture is, indeed, Kain's mother," Avallac'h said. "She is not just a druid. She is a sorceress. Which explains – albeit partially – his magical abilities. It is as obvious that Gwynbleidd knows that woman, as well. Too closely and personally, perhaps."

Ciri ignored Avallac'h the same way he had her, her focus on her mentor. "Geralt?"

Kain kept standing on the same spot, watching Geralt, fearing to try and read him for any specific information, for his emotions were all tangled and chaotic. He was shocked, Kain sensed as much.

Geralt turned back to them and made himself look at Ciri, taking in her imploring face, his own was a mask of uncertainty.

"I happen to know her, yes," he admitted. "Closely. Personally. Even though we met just once, and I wasn't in my right mind. But I'll never forget her face. Or her name. She's my mother."

Kain swallowed hard, feeling a bit dizzy for a moment. A weakness wobbled in his knees. He wished Geralt was wrong, but felt he wasn't. He couldn't be.

Ciri stared. "What?! What did you just say?"

She had heard him. He didn't need to repeat it. She just couldn't process it. Not fully.

The lit candles in Avallac'h's room flickered, growing tall. She didn't know where to look.

"I should… I should go throw up…" Ciri staggered towards the door, feeling like the floor was tilting beneath her.

Geralt's face creased in sorrow and regret as he watched Ciri, but then his eyes moved to Kain, and more confusion poured in.

"How old are you, really?" he asked.

"Thirty-three," Kain said.

"How is this possible?" he seemed almost pleading, and Kain had no answers, no confirmations. "How could you be in training at the same time with me, having the same mother. Who is your father?"

"I don't have one."

Geralt grimaced, "It's impossible."

"It's all I know," Kain said.

Ciri reached the doorway and paused there, arms braced on the doorjamb. She had intended to leave but couldn't make herself. She needed to know everything they knew. "Is she… Is she still alive?"

"I have no way of knowing," Geralt said, casting a brief gander at Ciri. "But I would guess so. She looked younger than I did when we met. She is a sorceress. She can live a very long life unless someone kills her. I don't think she'd let that happen. She was leading a very quiet life."

He regarded Kain closely, approaching a few steps, his eyes narrowing a tad, his pupils dilated slightly.

"Is he right?" the Witcher asked. "Is that true that she has been keeping in touch with you? All this time?"

"I had dreams where she talked to me, or dreams of her mere presence," Kain said. He hated that Avallac'h was there absorbing everything eagerly, but he couldn't deny Geralt's need to know. Not anymore. "I haven't seen her outside of my dreams since I was six. She told me we had to be apart."

"Why?" he asked.

"She didn't explain."

Another wince, this time of despair and anger, creased Geralt's face. "How is this even possible not to?"

"Did she explain much to _you_?" Kain ventured.

His face got long, he shook his head once.

This was all so strange, so unbelievable it made Ciri's head spin with a nauseating pace. They didn't even look alike. Except for the hair color.

"You're brothers," Ciri said unnecessarily, more to herself than them, really.

She wished Avallac'h was not here. She wished he would vanish into thin air.

She steadied herself, looking between Kain and Geralt. "Family."


	30. Chapter 30

Neither Kain nor Geralt knew how to react and what to feel. They couldn't look at each other with the word spoken out, but both knew in their blood it was true. Both realized they sensed it from the start, some kind of imperceptible string that was connecting them.

"It is still unclear how Kain managed to be thirty-three and yet have studied at The School of the Cat more than forty years ago," Avallac'h said. "How do you explain that?"

"I don't know," Kain responded. "It was fifteen years ago for me."

"How could that be possible?" Avallac'h repeated, and looked at Ciri with some kind of a meaning behind his cold grey eyes.

"What are you implying?" Geralt asked, tired and annoyed.

"I am implying a magic at work," the elf said, directing his calm gaze to the Witcher. "A magic much stronger and more unique than one of a druid sorceress and some dirty-blooded Aen Seidhe."

Who had ever said Kain was Aen Seidhe, Ciri wondered. If he did not know who his father was...

She moved to Kain's side, feeling the need to protect him. She knew what it was like to have people, Avallac'h, scrutinize you like some grand puzzle that needed solving.

"What kind of magic?" Ciri asked, feigning innocence though she had a fairly good inkling what kind of power could have done such a thing.

"You know, Zireael," the elf said, a small smile on his lips. "You already know, do you not."

He wasn't asking, both Geralt and Kain took notice. Kain wondered how he managed to do it, other than reading her thoughts every once in a while like she was a self-updating diary.

"What does he mean, Ciri?" Geralt asked.

"Seems I know less than you," Ciri told Avallac'h, looking to where he had discarded of the sketch. "You're happy," she pointed out. She could tell. The energy surrounding him was practically shimmering. "I won't let you take him. He won't let it happen, either." She squeezed Kain's hand, staring Avallac'h down.

Geralt watched them like it were a theater piece, and he was stuck in a dream, behind the veil from them, like they were in another world and he could see them but they didn't know he was there. The feeling made his head spin faster.

He made an effort and asked, "What the hell is going on here? Ciri? What are you saying?"

Ciri met Geralt's gaze but could not say the words. Once more she was being asked to reveal someone else's secret.

She looked at Kain, squeezing his hand gently in encouragement again. It was his choice. It had to be.

Kain met Geralt's tired but inquiring gaze when he sent it his way.

"Elder Blood," Kain said. "He implies I'm Elder Blood. Which I'm not."

"You base your conclusion on what facts?" Avallac'h asked him, mildly amused.

"Are you insane?" Geralt demanded, setting his glare on the elf. "Have you gone completely insane in that obsession of yours? He's a son of a sorceress, a witcher, a mage, if you will. Some time inconsistency doesn't make him Elder Blood. He's nothing to do with Cintra's royal lineage. Nothing. Neither of us does."

"Ah, Gwynbleidd," Avallac'h shook his head. "This should be proven wrong, because for now there seems to be more in favor than against that. Look at them," he gestured to Ciri and Kain lazily. "They are not surprised. How did they get that idea earlier?"

Geralt looked at the two, confused.

Kain didn't want another bout of interrogation. "The Weavess told me that," he confessed, looking at Geralt and directing it to him. "When we fought the Crones on the Bald Mountain. The one remaining cut me and called me Elder Blood."

Ciri's gaze returned to Avallac'h. "And how are you so certain, Crevan? What do you know?"

Avallac'h looked at her, unperturbed. "I am certain there is no ordinary magic in this world that allows anyone to skip through time and space, Zireael. The Crones were helping Eredin and Imlerith. If she smelled it in your friend, she wasn't lying."

"How is it possible?" Geralt asked again.

Avallac'h gave him an almost bored look. "We could find out – if Corinne is still here."

That had not been what Ciri meant. Avallac'h had known before Kain told them about the Crone. How had he known?

She looked up at Kain at her side. "You do not have to. Don't let him make you do anything you do not want to, Archer."

"If he does not," Avallac'h said, "how would he ever know? What peace would he ever find?"

Geralt shook his head slowly, murmuring, "This is madness."

"Fairly certain he had peace until we came along," Ciri muttered.

"Knowing the truth is always the most important thing," Avallac'h said, staring pointedly at Kain with the same barely-there smile in the corners of his mouth. "Is it not what you believe, Kain? You will never know the truth unless you use your chance."

"Don't you push anyone to do your bidding, Sage," Geralt said, scowling, pointing a finger at the elf. "I've had enough of this tonight. You don't make your rules nor your demands here, because you have no say in this."

Avallac'h raised his eyebrows, "I am merely pointing out things you already know or presume. Truth could be revealed, and the matter resolved. It is right there in front of you – reach out and take it. Or do not. And live with this black hole of wondering forever."

Their voices reached Kain as if from behind a veil, but he didn't see their faces. They were blurred silhouettes while Kain stared blindly in front of him, unable to make a choice. He had to know, and at the same time, he was afraid of it.

Kain was silent, staring straight ahead as if the others weren't here at all. But he had not let go of Ciri's hand.

He was scared and Ciri knew why. Anyone with any sense would be.

She tried to push strength and support, love and acceptance his way, gently squeezing his hand in the process. "Kain?"

Kain closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, then looked at Geralt.

"I'll do it."

"It's not necessary," Geralt said. "We'll sort it all out later when we get a breather."

"Nevertheless."

Avallac'h smiled a little. "I'll bring her," he said and went for the door, depositing the sketch on the table on his way out.

Kain pulled his hand from Ciri's, turning away to come to stand on the balcony facing the city, breathing in the smell of rain, his hands tightening on the wooden railing.

It felt like some strange dream that got out of control.

Ciri was not sure if this was good or not. Kain deserved to know about his past, of course, but it worried her that Avallac'h would store that information away to make use of for later plans.

"Do you want us to leave?" she asked, not following him outside.

"Why?" Kain shrugged. "To keep the remaining secret from my brother and his ward? You can stay."

"It's not a good time for revealing secrets," Geralt said. "Avallac'h has some interest in it, and we have the sorceresses here, too."

"We don't always pick time for things to happen," Kain said. "It was probably all meant to happen as soon as I agreed to stay among you. It was inevitable since then."

Ciri flinched inwardly. Geralt's _ward_. Is that what she was to Kain now?

She swallowed the pain and took a few steps away, moving to one of the walls to lean against, arms folded across her chest.

Geralt was right, of course. It was a terrible idea to explore all this while in the presence of Avallac'h and the former Lodge members. But in the end it would always have to be Kain's decision.

Geralt approached and stood by Kain, peering out at the city.

"I'm sorry it came to this," he said. "It's a lot to take for us. But you're right - we can't always pick the right time." He was silent for a bit, then added, "I know now what I saw in your face but couldn't quite understand."

Kain smirked without much humor. "I should've had red hair, then you'd have a guess."

"It's why she brought you to a witcher school," he said. "To hide you where you could fit in."

"I know. I've always known that."

"I never knew that about myself," he murmured. "Never knew why."

"She had some sort of plan. Druids care for a bigger picture, for the whole world. She cared to follow the calls of destiny more than our individual needs."

Geralt's lips twitched in a bitter sneer; he made no response.

"Are you ready?" Avallac'h asked, walking ahead of the oneiromancer as they came in. "I'll leave you to it, then." He shot a look at Ciri, then stepped out, closing the suite door.

Geralt cast a brief puzzled look Kain's way.

"He'll find out, anyway," Kain said. "He already knows something, he merely sought a confirmation."

The two brothers were talking and though Ciri knew they were not trying to keep anything from her, she only heard snippets here and there. She did not try to invade their conversation. They deserved their privacy.

She trailed Avallac'h with her gaze and once more felt a pang of pain. Ciri had trusted him once. Not that long ago. Had even cared for him. And now... Everything was so tangled and chaotic.

Corinne looked between Geralt and Kain, a polite curiosity reflected in her pretty face. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to remember how I got to the witcher school when I was six," Kain said as she took a seat in a chair, "and how I escaped the massacre."

Corinne gave it a thought, then looked at Ciri and Geralt with a wonder.

"Do you know a way to share the vision?" Kain asked.

"It's more complicated, but I can do it. They will have to lie down or sit to doze. And you will have to relax and let it happen." She gestured to the bed.

Feeling a bit dizzy again, Kain made himself lie down on it and tried to relax.

Ciri hesitated a moment, then slid down with her back to the wall until her behind reached the floor. She folded her legs in front of her and leaned back, closing her eyes and trying to relax and let go of all reservations.

Somewhere in the room she heard shuffling and assumed Geralt was doing the same.

* * *

The sun is blazing through emerald canopy in blinding flashes.

'It is time,' her voice says, calm and tender as always. She hands Kain a wooden cup with water. 'Drink this. A goodbye from this forest to remember it by. You can always come back here. It will accept you. Drink.'

He does, and warmth with grassy taste spreads through his mouth and soaks into his blood. He looks up, not even squinting against the blazes of the sun peeking through the leaves, and his head feels light… as if it's made of air…

Images of the castle flash by, her red hair, her touch, her smile, their last walk in the woods and she says she has to go...

Kaer Morhen… the trail exercises… joint trainings and everybody's eager for the upcoming competition… Vesemir's instructions and the Cat commander barking orders… Felines giggling in a group watching the Wolf boys train while they share their scores and compare Cats and Wolves… Geralt sparring with his friend barely a few yards away...

And then the chaos of the battle and king soldiers shooting everyone on sight… pain and blood so hot as it soaked Kain's shirt… his head heavy and pounding and everything gets dark and blurry…

Her touch again… nothing like her touch, cooling his feverish forehead…

_… Drink this… It's all right… All right… Remember the forest… remember our home… remember… we are coming home… home…_

* * *

Kain gasped, startled, pushed out of the dream and stared at the ceiling, panting, his heart thrashing in his chest. He still felt blood streaming over his side and had to touch a hand to it to find it wasn't wet.

Corinne was rubbing her temples as if she had a headache. Kain felt she did.

Unlike the scene of Auberon's death, this vision came in flashes that were hard to make sense of unless you knew their story already. And Ciri only did to a certain point. She was left feeling more confused than enlightened. She looked between Geralt and Kain to gauge if it had made more sense for them. Undoubtedly it had.

"I'm sorry," Corinne said, rubbing her forehead as she stood up slowly. "It was harder than usual to get into the visions... The memory is too fragmented. But I hope it helped."

"Thank you for your assistance, Corinne," Geralt said, helping her to the door as if worried she could drop. "Whatever you might need is on the house. We shall find you a room to rest if you please."

"I'm grateful, Witcher, and I will have a drink in your bar before I leave."

"As you wish."

When the door closed behind her, Geralt turned to Kain, frowning in confusion.

"I hope it made sense to you how... Did she do it? Was it she who carried you through time?"

"No, she had no such power," Kain said, rubbing his temples. It felt like his head was still spinning how it was in the memory. "She made me drink something…"

"Water," Geralt said.

Kain cast a meaningful glance his way, "The Brokilon Water. She made me use my power and forget about it so well that I don't even know how to use it, anymore. Quite clever. The only possible way it could have been arranged. She probably spent all those years of my witcher training in the past until she made me get us back home. _Home_…" His mind stumbled over the word momentarily.

Brokilon was never their _home_. Why would she say that? Maybe he didn't recall it right…

He pushed the reverie away for later and continued, "It was a good hiding place for both of us. Thirteen years, until everyone who could have been searching for us in our present lost hope and trails."

Ciri frowned. "Why would the Brokilon Water work on you? It did nothing to me."

Geralt would remember, too. He had been there at the time.

"And does that mean there is a chance your mother," she gestured to them both – _Oh, this is strange! _– "could still be with the dryads?"

"She's not," Kain said. "That time at eighteen was the last time I saw her without even remembering. She knew the dryads, but didn't live there. She is either on her own or with her druids. And won't be found unless she wants to."

There wasn't much Ciri could say about that. "Are you all right? Both of you?"

It's not me to ask about it, Geralt thought, trying to gauge Kain while he got up and went to the balcony again.

"We'll be fine. I'll go see about a dinner. We all need it. Join me downstairs when you're ready."

Geralt cast a gander at Ciri and removed himself from the suite.

Ciri got up when Geralt left and slowly followed Kain outside, resting her elbows on the railing of the balcony.

"I did not foresee the events of this day when I woke up this morning," she said softly, looking up at him. "How do you feel?"

"I'm not sure," Kain confessed, looking at the wet roofs under the evening drizzle. It was getting late. And he missed Griffin for that special comfort his presence provided for all the years. "Better to know than to wonder, but... I still don't know how come I could do it. She knew how to make me do it and I still don't."

"How to make you jump in time?" Ciri paused for a moment. "Are you certain she was the one who made you do it? It is more likely you did it all on your own. You just did not realize. Not then – not now."

"She had to drug me so I wouldn't know what and how I was doing," Kain reasoned, and spread his arms in brief gesture. "It worked."

"That does not mean that information is lost, Kain. It is just buried deep." Ciri followed his gaze the city beyond the balcony. "She was clearly trying to protect you. She knew what it would mean should someone find out about you."

"I know. She did a lot to hide me, but it didn't work out in a long term." Kain frowned, reflecting. "She used to tell me how no one should know about my magic. That the Lodge would want to use it for their own power-hungry gain and it had to be a gift to the world rather than the mages and royals. That the world's magic was fading and had to be reborn with those like me. I never gave it much thought at five, and then there was the witcher school and no place for such contemplation."

"She wasn't wrong," Ciri pointed out. "Avallac'h, The Lodge, The Hunt... they will try to use you. And not for anything pleasant."

She swallowed thickly, because even if she felt a slight thrill of having found someone else who were like her, Ciri also knew how much harder it would make his life. How painful it would be.

Though maybe it would be different for him? He was already an adult. Somehow she doubted he would allow anyone to make him a victim.

She touched his hand again, tentatively, and tried to read his emotions. All that popped into her mind was Griffin's muzzle. But that had not been too hard to guess. Ciri was starting to know Kain a little.

"You should go to him," she said, softly. "If he brings you comfort, you should go to him."

Kain considered her. "Trying to read my mind?"

"Sort of," she admitted sheepishly. "Though it is not unknown to me that you feel better in the company of your griffin."

Kain sighed, "He's not mine." He returned his eyes to the city roofs. "Did she teach you to read minds today?"

"You know what I mean. And no. But she gave me some tips on how to practice."

Kain nodded slowly in acknowledgement. "Will Yennefer help you?"

"I actually got too distracted to ask her directly. But yes, I imagine she will."

"Good." Kain remembered something and smiled meekly. "Don't want to throw up anymore?"

Ciri smiled a little too. "No. The shock has passed somewhat. Forgive me."

He turned to her, "For what?"

"For my reaction. For some time now, I suppose I have come to believe I was meant to find you for a reason. That we were destined to get to know one another, help each other. Save each other from loneliness." She looked away for a moment, gaze on her hands atop the railing. "And now I wonder... what if it was never about me at all? What if I was simply put in your path so that you and Geralt could find one another?"

Inhaling heavily, Ciri found her courage and lifted her eyes to his again, reaching out to gently cup his cheek, the mere beauty of him making her smile. "And that is selfish of me, I know. But I do so wish that you were meant for _me_."

Kain's chest tightened in response to her implication. A part of him longed to run, feeling cornered. She didn't deserve any of it. She was too lonely already, too hurt and scared and uncertain. And Kain was simply scared to do any soul-searching for himself. She was much braver, despite everything that she lived through, and Kain couldn't offer the same courage she showed.

And yet, aside from the uncharted feelings territory, he had no reservations.

"Geralt and I didn't have to meet," he stated. "If not for you. Your existence brought us together. And hardly it's as much for either of us as it is for and because of you."

"It's a nice thought." But Ciri was not sure. At the moment it felt like she had just been a small pawn in a game constructed by a higher power. And even if that were the case, she was grateful. She would rather have some part of Kain in her life than not at all.

"Are you hungry?"

Kain chuckled, detaching from the railing. "Not sure, but we do need to eat."

"Shall we go downstairs to join the others or do you want me to bring you something to your room?"

"I'm not a cripple, I can come downstairs to eat with others. Shall we?"

Kain headed for the door and lingered at the table looking at the drawing.

"How does he know her?" he murmured.

Ciri came to a halt when he did, following his gaze to the sketch. "How did he know I would end up in the land of the Aen Elle weeks before I made up my mind to enter the portal?" Ciri shrugged. "He knows many things."

"You are Elder Blood that he's been hunting, but my mother was just some druid. She'd never appear in his vision without him knowing her beforehand."

Ciri watched him curiously. "You think they have met before?"

"He stared at me all those times for a reason - he was trying to remember where he knows me from. He asked me if we met before. That is why."

"Can you imagine where they would have met? Not as if they run in similar circles."

She held the door open for him. They left the suite and went for the stairs, jogging down.

"I've no idea. She never mentioned any Aen Elle to me. Not that I recall."

Ciri lowered her voice. "Best not discuss any of this around The Lodge. Might as well keep it contained for as long as we are able."

Kain made no response - there was truly nothing to discuss. Not much changed for him. He was still going to fight the war they had invited him to.

Geralt, Dandelion and Zoltan were at the table waiting for dinner while Priscilla was tending to the bar.

Ciri paused at their table, peering down at them all. "No Yennefer?"

They blinked up at Ciri, all three confused, then Dandelion shrugged.

"I could send for her, but if any of those others see me, they might demand things. Like joining us. Who wants that?"

"Aye, lassie," Zoltan scratched his beard. "We thought she'd know and come. A sorceress and all."

Ciri looked back towards the stairs, uncertain. "Maybe I should go fetch her."

She had seemed so sad when Ciri last saw her. "Or maybe you should, Geralt?"

Yennefer headed downstairs, sensing where her people were, satisfied that the rest wouldn't be following her anytime soon and that they probably had more schemes to perfect.

"No need to hurry all at once to find me."

"There, see, like I said," Zoltan grinned and took the bottle from the middle of the table to pour Yennefer a drink, then handed it over. "Let's drink to magic. Aye."

Geralt smiled when their gazes met, but he couldn't help feeling quite a bit off. His brain still felt swollen with the revelations.

"You feeling all right, Yennefer?" Dandelion asked. "Haven't been out of your room much."

"Been keeping a close eye on The Lodge," Yennefer replied to the bard. If they knew anything of Yennefer's history with the other sorceresses, they'd know there was nothing okay about that and that it could only get worse if it wasn't dealt with. Yennefer purposely moved to take a seat beside Geralt. "It's no easy task."

Ciri gestured to Kain that they take their seats on the empty side of the table, and sat down, reaching for one of the clean glasses up for grabs.

Once they'd settled, one of the maids that worked for Dandelion brought a big plate with a baked goose with apples with a huge knife sticking out of it, then a big bowl of baked potatoes peppered with spices, two carafes with spiced wine and one with apple cider.

Zoltan took over the knife and began to distribute the meat between the plates.

"What are they plotting up there?" Dandelion asked, sipping his wine.

"Nothing that is going to do anyone of us any good in the long run."

"Are they willing to help, or should we send them back where we found them?" Ciri asked, filling her glass with cider.

"They aren't the charitable type. However, they do want to help and as most of us know from experience, despite what you did for them, it's not for free."

"What do they want?"

Yennefer darted a thoughtful look at Kain. "You know what they're like, Ciri, what do you think they're after? New meat, old ultimatum."

"No deal," Ciri said. "We don't trade in people."

"I didn't think that we did. The Lodge on the other hand."

Geralt narrowed his eyes, watching them. "What do they want, Yennefer, and why?"

"They want Kain. Basically. Apparently they saw that he is able to do some wonderful kind of magic and suddenly their interest has turned from Ciri. I assume they think because he is a new face, new body, new history, that without all the familiar ties he'll be easier to quarter."

"Fascinating," Kain murmured sardonically, and sipped on his cider.

"That's not happening," Geralt said, glaring at Yennefer. "No way on earth and beyond."

Ciri's hands were clenched to fists under the table. "Is this Philippa talking? Or Triss?"

"I never said it would. It's what they want."

By _they_ Yennefer meant all of them and assumed she wouldn't have to name them one at a time and come off like she was trying to attack. She was saving that energy.

"Is that what they said, exactly?" Geralt asked. "What are the terms?"

"The terms are as follows. They fight for us against The Wild Hunt and in return, when they leave, Kain goes with them. Other than that, they're not going to share their full-fledged plan."

"That is not happening," Ciri said, trying to be still and soft. Calm, like Fealinn had told her. She wasn't doing a very good job. "They can all go to Hell."

Yennefer cast a sympathetic look her way. "We need their help. It doesn't mean I agree, it means we need to come up with new terms and something else to pique their interest."

Geralt kept staring at Yennefer as if she grew a pair of horns. "Is this serious? They can't be serious and expect us to comply. And it won't be in their favor if the Hunt wins. They're not dumb. They have to understand that."

The raven-haired beauty returned her eyes to him with calm resolution. "They don't care. I even offered to speak to Ciri's father about pardons, about making their life less difficult but they don't seem to care for that. They want the additional prize—"

Yennefer let her gaze drift to Kain once more, especially since he hadn't said anything yet.

"I don't sell myself to any Lodges," he said nonchalantly, watching the cider slosh in his cup while he waved it in his hand. "If they refuse to help, we'll defeat the Hunt without them. Because there will be no other choice."

Ciri smiled subtly at Kain, happy he was not about to give in to any demands. "And if they try something, I am fairly certain I can drop them all into a volcano. Or the world made purely of garbage."

Geralt glanced between Ciri and Kain, feeling his head spin more intensely.

"First of all, defeating the Hunt on our own is quite ambitious, given how we were defeated the last time," he remarked. "Even with Ge'els keeping his word, there will be a huge army, a grand amount of hounds and all their frost magic at their disposal. If we don't have the Lodge, we have much, much less chances to win this before they take us out one by one." He turned to Yennefer, "They have to agree for the pardons, because it doesn't get better than that. They should realize they can't really force neither Ciri, nor Kain to be their magic monkeys."

Yennefer sighed. "I've tried to talk sense into them. They won't budge. Then again, we keep clashing. They're more receptive to talking to and negotiate with you."

"Then they'll get what they want at least in this," Geralt said. "I shall talk some sense into them. When is that grand talk scheduled to happen?"

"As soon as you're ready to lend them your ear."

"Wonderful. Then they have to wait for that ear while I eat."

Yennefer had to admit she appreciated that he wasn't dashing for the stairs, heading to their siren call because they felt as if everything was stacked in their corner. It would only be a matter of time before Triss came downstairs, batted her lashes, tried to butter up the young Cat witcher and then started filling his head with poison on why it would be in his best interest to join them. How he'd be known as a savior to them, that it would be for the best and that she understood Ciri wasn't able to do it and always had but that there was a sense of duty owed to win a war.

Yennefer sniffed once to take in the delicious smell of the foods and then reached forward to accept the plate from Zoltan.

"Is Triss fully in on that?" Geralt asked, peering at Yennefer. "Or she plays it for Ciri's sake?"

"She was all in for Ciri," Yennefer mused. Had he forgotten that piece of information or was it vastly different in his scrambled brain? "Who do you think approached Philippa with the idea?"

Geralt thought about it a moment, frowning. "Oh, so you are saying it's _her_ idea for them to focus on Kain and leave Ciri be?" he winced. "She wouldn't seriously do that. Not for real."

Irritation flared through Yennefer and the meat she was holding dropped to the plate in front of her like discarded trash. "Despite those innocent greens she bats your way, Geralt, Triss is not the mayflower that you believe she is."

Geralt regarded Yennefer with a mix of frustration and weariness. "I've known her for a very long time, and she would never do anything to harm Ciri or anyone who is important to her. It is a fact."

"She'd hurt even you if it was to the advantage of The Lodge," Yennefer shot back.

She'd even tried as much before. Of course, however, he hadn't been there to witness it, nor had he heard of it, and a lot got lost in translation. Who even knew what that looked like in his head now? If Yennefer didn't break that spell so that he could remember her, then she craved to break it so he could rid himself of those Triss-blinders.

Yennefer focused on her plate again, helping herself to some of the salads around the table and a piece of bread, breaking the latter so that she could slowly munch on it.

Geralt squinted, "Why are you so against her? Weren't you friends? She always talked warmly about you."

Yennefer didn't usually air her dirty laundry so spectacularly but she couldn't sit idly by while he tried to argue reason and loyalty about Triss, who didn't have a loyal bone in her body. Not where he or Yennefer were concerned.

"Things change." She dared anyone else to speak out of turn and fill in what she'd cared not to mention. "I trust she has my back in battle and that she'll fight for Ciri. That only gets extended so far."

"For our situation, it should be good enough," Geralt remarked. "There is no actual Lodge in the same sense they used to be before. Ciri is a grown-up now, they can't force her to do anything, nor can they hope to achieve anything with Kain. They will have to take the pardons if they hope to get back up from their knees again, and Triss will make sure they believe it's good enough for them as it is."

"We'll drink to that," Dandelion put in, refilling the drinks all around, Zoltan helping.

Yennefer knew Triss better than Geralt did. He only saw the drips and drabs she allowed, whereas the rest was overlooked or written off. Yennefer frowned slightly but didn't add anything more, making idle work of finishing her supper.

Avallac'h approached quietly, but all eyes turned to him when he did - it was hard to overlook his towering figure.

"I believe we are done here," he informed everyone, though his eyes were on Geralt. "When you stop reeling over the newest developments, we shall meet at the port and set sail to Skellige to obtain the Sunstone and get on with our plan. I leave it to you to inform the Lodge when you see fit. I shall be waiting for your decision to set out." He nodded and walked away.

"What is the Sunstone?" Ciri asked, watching the elf disappear. "How will it help us with The Hunt?"

Her gaze turned to the people at the table, searching to see if anyone here knew.

"It's best to ask Avallac'h himself about that stone," Geralt said. "It's probably one more Aen Elle legend."

Ciri hummed in agreement, eating her potatoes in silence, brow furrowed as a clear reflection she was deep in thought.

The more they drank, the less enthusiasm they found in discussing their current predicament. With Dandelion's gossips and Zoltan's stories, they drifted into the life of Novigrad and common acquaintances. Priscilla eventually joined them at their table, leaving the bar on the man working for them.

Kain finished his meal and excused himself, heading outside. The rain had stopped, but its damp chill remained.

It was already quite dark, but he remembered where the armorer lived and worked well enough.

Ciri pondered whether or not to follow Kain, assuming he needed some time to himself. But something had come to mind when Avallac'h ordered them to sail to Skellige as soon as possible. And Kain needed to know.

She trailed him down the street until she was able to catch up. "I have an idea," Ciri said, her voice low, eyes on the cobblestones beneath their feet. "It may turn out to be nothing, but there is a chance it could prove... enlightening for you. About your mother."

"What idea?"

"A while back, when Avallac'h and I were planning on going to Skellige, he mentioned a place. A secret laboratory of his. He wanted to teleport there to fetch some things he needed, but he forbade me from coming with. As it turned out, we did not get the opportunity. The Hunt caught up with us too soon and Avallac'h was cursed.

"But… that laboratory… there might be something there."

Kain thought it over as they walked in silence for a couple of minutes. "How can his laboratory be connected to my... our mother?"

"I don't know if it is, but seeing as he clearly did not want me to go there I can only assume he is hiding something. Information of some kind. It might be a place where he stores his secrets. One of those secrets are currently how he knows your mother. It might be worth looking into? If you are curious?"

"I'm sure Geralt also wants to know. The question is how do we find that laboratory? You know where it is?"

"He said it was on a small isle between Undvik and Spikeroog. Might need some exploration to find the exact spot."

"It will take some sailing and flying," Kain mused. "But hardly it's obvious from outside. Elves are good at hiding their treasures."

"Perhaps Yennefer can cast some sort of… locator spell?"

"I don't think one can cast a locator spell on something one doesn't know anything about. There has to be something, anything to hook on to."

"Well, exploration it is, then."

The armorer's shop was already closed, and when Kain knocked on the door, he knew it was Kain when he opened. It was the only ready work waiting to be accepted.

Kain paid the man, thanked him, and they set on the way back.

"Want to stop by and see Griffin?" Ciri knew he had wanted to earlier.

"I would spend the night there, too, but I guess with Geralt's upcoming talk with the Lodge he might need us."

"I suppose."

They walked in silence back to the inn. Geralt, Dandelion, Zoltan, Priscilla, and Yennefer were all still at the table, some clearly more intoxicated than the rest.

"I'll go change and visit Griffin while they're still here," Kain said, and started for the stairs.

"Alright." Ciri followed Kain with her gaze as he disappeared, a part of her longing to go with him. But she gave him his privacy and took her earlier seat at the table.

Geralt glimpsed Kain's back as he jogged upstairs, and looked at Ciri who sat down beside him.

"Everything all right?"

Ciri nodded, refilling her glass with cider. "He got his new armor."

Geralt chuckled, "Just when we're about to sail back to Skellige."

"True. But who knows how long we will stay. It is not a bad thing to have a backup," she said, eyeing the stairs where Kain had disappeared.

Geralt studied her gaze directed at the stairs. "You two are all right?"

"I think I am falling for him," she said honestly and for Geralt's ears only. "And I don't think he likes that."

It wasn't a big surprise - Ciri hadn't been too discreet with her preferences. She never had. Kain's side was more mysterious, to certain extent.

"He probably needs time to understand what he feels," Geralt said, pouring her some mulled wine. "Takes time to recognize love and affection after having lived in Brokilon."

Ciri smiled a little, appreciating that Geralt was trying to spare her feelings. "Or he is not interested. Not like that."

Geralt clicked his cup against hers, smiling gently. "You met after a series of unfortunate experiences on both sides. If you feel ready to get closer with someone, he still avoids processing his feelings. Dryads are cold and down to business when it comes to coupling. They don't mate for feelings. They mate for results. Life among them would require shutting down feelings. It's not easy to come back from it."

"So I should give him space?"

Geralt looked at her with mixed feelings; out of all people, he might be the worst relationships advisor.

"If you back away, it would stay the same," he reasoned. "Because he wants to avoid it. And your giving him space will help him do that.

"While you're around, he has to compare and analyze what he feels. Sooner or later, he'll know."

Ciri stared down into the contents of her cup. "What if I scare him away?"

Geralt chortled, peering at her with humorous disbelief. "How?"

"By being too… friendly?" she suggested uncertainly.

Geralt sneered widely, regarding her. "How can one be too friendly and scare a man off?"

"Can't one?" she questioned. "What if I change the word friendly to intense?"

He raised his eyebrows considering it. "You tried to bed him and he ran away?"

"No!" Ciri squeaked. "I haven't… tried anything. I worry if I do, he will reject me."

Geralt frowned, "You plan to try to bed my brother?"

Ciri punched his shoulder, scowling. "Stop it. You know what I mean!"

Geralt had to laugh, couldn't help it. "But that's exactly what you mean!"

She folded her arms across her chest, continuing to scowl even as her cheeks flushed pink.

Geralt refilled her drink and pushed it her way, smiling. "Don't pout at the truth."

"You think that would be my first step? We haven't even kissed."

"How would I know? You've never flirted with me, I don't know how you do it and what you count as a first step."

"I don't do it. That's the point," Ciri grumbled. "Never had to."

"Well," Geralt tried to sober up and took a gulp of his wine, "I have to admit I don't hate that you never did."

Ciri rolled her eyes. "Well, of course you don't. You're my father."

"Which is why I want you to be happy, and you can't quite get there."

"What do you mean I can't get there? Are you saying I am doomed to be miserable?"

"I mean the present moment, Ciri, not your entire life."

"Well, there are a lot of things happening right now. Tension and concern. I don't think anyone at this table is truly happy right now."

"Even so," Geralt shrugged, "we're still together, still not defeated. Still preserving our hope and will to fight for that happiness. It's more than some people have."

"Yes. And I appreciate that, just like the rest of you."

"There are hardly any advices to give you concerning your romantic urges, Ciri, aside from listening to your heart. Your body might have its own desires, but your heart should prevail. It's what should lead the way."

"I always follow my instincts. They rarely steer me wrong." Ciri looked up at him. "How do _you_ feel? You have a brother..."

Geralt sighed and downed his drink, then reached for the carafe to refill. "I don't know. It's not something completely new, given Eskel, Lambert, Coen, even Dandelion who have been like brothers to me. But still a bit strange. I never thought I had any blood siblings."

Ciri patted his hand gently. "You and me both. Though, he is not a bad addition."

"Of course not." He refilled her cup and studied her curiously. "What about you? Is it strange for you that I have a brother?"

"It is a bit strange for me that he is your brother," Ciri admitted. "Though like you said, with Eskel and Lambert, I have always considered you having brothers already."

"It's what I meant," Geralt nodded. "That he is the one. Is that a problem for you now?"

"Not unless you lot make it weird." Ciri looked up at him. "I am not going to call him uncle Kain."

Geralt laughed despite himself and couldn't resist saying, "He is, though."

Ciri punched his shoulder again. "Quiet, you."

He grinned, drank his wine, then jerked his chin indicating the stairs, "There, your uncle Kain's going somewhere."

He was indeed heading outside, wearing his new leather set without the wolf fur underlining.

Ciri drank, too. "I know. Going to see the griffin. He wanted to do it before you went to talk to the Lodge."

"Perhaps I should take him with me for that talk," Geralt mused. "But then they'll know for sure Yennefer spoke out. I wish I knew which is a better choice."

"The better choice is to keep him as far away from them as possible."

"It won't be right," Geralt argued calmly. "He's a grown man, not a child. He has to speak for himself and let them see it. He can only earn their respect by speaking for himself."

"When has the Lodge ever cared about respect or what anyone outside their group has to say? They don't ask – they demand."

"They used to demand," Geralt nodded. "Look at them now: Margarita is out of the dungeon solely thanks to Yennefer and me, and Philippa had her hands full with Dijkstra and his men. What can they demand at the moment? They can only negotiate to sell their help for a favor or two."

"I hope so. Because I am not letting any of us get caught up in one of their schemes." Ciri drank deeply.

Geralt peered at her, amused. "So certain of yourself, little Lion Cub. Even scattered and beaten, they're a power to be reckoned with. Be careful with them."

"I'm not certain of myself. I am certain I will never give into what they want, that I won't let anyone use me or my body for their political gain ever again. I'd rather die."

"I'd rather you didn't. I just got you back."

"Then there is no other choice than to resist and try to be strong."

"Strength is not on our side," Geralt estimated. "Which means we need to be cunning about the resources we have. If the Riders won't get their reinforcement, they can still win with what they have. We need to be careful with picking a place and magical allies. No matter what, we do need whatever remains of the Lodge - every single one we can convince to fight for us."

"Not if their demand remains the same," Ciri frowned up at him. "We are not selling Kain."

"We shall see what they have to say when it's me who faces them. There's just two of them, they don't know where the other members are, and we are the ones to help with that. They haven't been doing well on their own so far."

"Don't forget Triss. We may not have to buy her help, but she still considers herself a part of the Lodge."

"I don't believe she will stand against us. I don't want to believe it."

"I hope not. But I also know she is frightened of Philippa. Most are."

"They can't do anything to Triss. Even Philippa should realize how it'd be a big disadvantage to lose Triss now. She has close to nothing to fear from Philippa."

Ciri smiled a little. "It's not about what they can do or not do. It is about how they can make her feel. Women fight sneakily."

"I wish they left me out of it when they do," Geralt muttered and downed his drink.

"Most of the time I am sure they do," Ciri said and muttered into her mug. "Except when they fight over you."

Typically Yennefer hated to drink too much, especially when there was still so much that needed taking care of but amidst Dandelions and Zoltan's stories and her own irritations she'd lost track. Most the time had been spent listening and watching Geralt, studying him across the table as though at some point a spark of recognition was going to zero in and hit him between the eyes. It hadn't happened yet and she was on her third cup of mead and readying for a fourth. Ciri had even left with her boyfriend and returned, and now they were talking in hushed tones. Unless that was the drink clouding Yennefer's customarily decent hearing. She'd lost interest in food, nursing one of the mugs she'd been given, inching closer to her duo, although technically she only had one of them now. "Want me with you when you talk to them?"

Geralt gave Ciri a mock reprimanding look, and directed his attention to Yennefer, peering at her inquiringly. "What?"

"Do you want me with you when you talk to The Lodge."

"I think I need to hear them out without anyone else present," he said. "I want to hear what they have to say to me to my face."

"And Kain? They've already involved him, I assume he'd want to tell them to their face that he isn't interested."

"They told you they wanted to speak to me," Geralt said. "That's what they're getting. Me."

"Don't make it too easy on those wanting to get you."

Geralt furrowed his brow, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You'll figure it out."

Yennefer brought the mead to her lips, sipped at it and cast a look around.

"You sure it's a smart thing to let Kain run off on his own when The Lodge is interested in getting him alone?"

Geralt gave an amused hem, "The two of them are gonna ambush him and his beast in the shrubs? And do what?"

"What do you think Sorceresses are inclined to do to pretty boys in bushes when they have a plan?"

Ciri stared. "He usually doesn't spend time in bushes. Just so you know. And he can take care of himself while we're here."

Geralt smiled, "I have no clue. No such experience."

Yennefer arched a brow. Geralt had a lot of experience. A lot. "I'm sure that he can. I'm just saying that they can be persuasive when they want to be."

Ciri pondered that a moment, then shook her head. "No. He'd never let them use him. Never."

"I mean, they'll use you against him. Their plans for you become their plans for him. You said he was noble, that it's the reason he is here, why wouldn't he hand himself over to them to get them off you?"

"Because he is not that self-destructive. And he knows that would break my heart. He would never do that to me," Ciri said, emptying her cup.

"If she were a little girl, I would believe that," Geralt put in. "But given Ciri can stand up for herself, he doesn't have to do it."

"Love or what we think is love makes us do crazy things we wouldn't usually do. And when you have a need to protect them…" Yennefer shrugged as though it was self-explanatory. "All I'm saying is that humans and creatures alike have weaknesses and The Lodge is known to exploit them."

"He doesn't love me. We've already talked about this." Though, what she said did make Ciri worry. She cast a glance towards the front door.

Yennefer added, "You also said you weren't sure of anything that he was feeling and everyone knows you two have been close. No doubt Triss had filled them in."

"How can anyone love someone after only a few weeks?"

"How does one love after only a day? A month? Years? You can't predict how and when these it happens or how we interpret them. It just is."

Geralt cleared his throat. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. For now, we're just… a family fighting for the same cause. Kain happens to be my brother, and Ciri is his friend. Doesn't need to be called anything more complicated than that until it gets there."

"What— what was _that_?" Dandelion turned, his eyes wide, so did Zoltan and Priscilla as he broke their conversation. The poet stared at Geralt, then at Ciri. "Who is whose brother?"

"Ye gods and little fishes," Zoltan muttered into his mug, staring at Geralt wildly.

"I have to go talk to the Lodge," Geralt got up and gestured to Ciri. "She'll explain."

With that, he headed for the stairs.


	31. Chapter 31

"Um," Ciri said, cradling her cup of mead as all eyes turned to her. "Turns out Geralt and Kain are brothers. Same mother, different fathers. Presumably."

She drank and watched with some amusement as everyone's mouths fell open, eventually directing her gaze to Yennefer who was usually more composed than that.

"But how is it possible?" Dandelion inquired, staring at Ciri in shock. "How did you find out?"

Priscilla was flabbergasted, but smiling. "What a perfect story, the famous White Wolf has a brother!"

"Aw, ye poets can't leave people be!" Zoltan rolled his eyes and poured more wine refilling the cups.

"But it would be a fantastic story," Priscilla said, smiling dreamily. "People do need stories to make their lives a bit better, to enable them to dream. Isn't it worth it? They make the world a better place."

"You lot will keep your mouths closed," Ciri demanded, pointing at Dandelion and Priscilla in particular.

Yennefer sat quietly, funneling through the news and the fact that Geralt suddenly appeared to have managed to gain more family – _actual_ family.

"How can you be sure they're brothers? Is that why Kain's come?"

Usually, it always felt as if Yennefer should come up with an answer, something that sounded plausible to her mind but only this time there was nothing.

Ciri shook her head at Yennefer. "No. They didn't know until a few hours ago. A sketch by Avallac'h. Kain's mother. Geralt's mother. Corinne's powers confirmed it through visions."

Dandelion gaped. "Your elf friend knew their mother? How... What..."

"That elvish prick knows their mother?" Zoltan grimaced angrily. "What's his business in all that?!"

Yennefer grimaced at the prospect that Avallac'h might be the boy's father or perhaps even Geralt's. The Wolf didn't have any elflike qualities that she knew of, but stranger things had happened - hadn't it?

She wondered how Geralt was feeling about the news, a bit disappointed that he hadn't told her himself. In the past he would have, she might even have been the first, but now he'd slotted her in with the cluster of gossips.

Yennefer finished off the mead from her mug, pushed it aside and stared at the group's collective faces of incomprehension. She had nothing else that she could add.

"That is still a mystery and I doubt Avallac'h is keen to explain," Ciri said, drinking from her cup. If they were lucky, they'd find out anyway.

"Hardly anyone would like that explanation," Zoltan grumbled, and drank.

"When the time is right we'll wring the information from him," Yennefer said.

"This all stays between us for now," Ciri told them all sternly, except for Yennefer because Ciri was certain she already was aware. "It is not our information to spread."

Yennefer hardly bothered nodding, regarding the rest, watching as one at a time they did so and insisted to keep it to themselves.

The troubadours were the only two that hesitated and Yennefer could already see lyrics wheeling away in Dandelion's head about the White Wolf and his growing pack.

Even so, he wouldn't outright blurt it to the world – not yet.

She glanced toward the stairs, deciding that she'd drunk enough and slowly stood. "I'm going to take a bath."

This was directed more at Ciri than anyone else and coded with pretext. Yennefer wanted to eavesdrop.

"Alright." Ciri gave her a smile and watched her journey towards the stairs before finding distraction in one of Zoltan's Gwent stories.

Yennefer had meant for Ciri to come with her so that she could peel apart her brain a bit more about Geralt's news and what that now meant for her and her pursuits or lusts (although in the grand scheme Yennefer doubted it meant much – it was too late for that). She paused on the landing for a minute, saw Ciri fall into easy conversation with Zoltan and continued the rest of the way up the stairs, being light on her feet as not to give herself away too much, situating herself outside of The Lodges door to hear if she could pick up on their conversation the conventional way.

* * *

"I've been told you wanted to talk to me," Geralt said as Triss closed the door behind him. Philippa and Margarita were sitting at the table, looking smug. It made him suspect they knew something. There was no telling what it was, however.

"We always enjoy talking to you, Geralt," Philippa smiled, then the smile dimmed a half as she appeared pensive. It was hard to tell with that blindfold. "I know what you're scared of, Witcher. What that traitor with raven locks has probably poisoned your mind with already, even though we have not talked to her about anything concerning the Lodge and our business with you and Ciri. It is all between you and us. So, would you tell me what put a crease on your brow? What did she tell you?"

"Why disturb the air with useless chatting?" Geralt inquired and folded his arms. "Simply get to business and tell me what you demand for your help?"

"Demand?" Margarita chuckled bitterly. "Look at us, Geralt, we're outnumbered and weakened. What can we demand?"  
"We are going to negotiate this matter like civilized people," Philippa said. "So each side wins. Isn't that what the current predicament demands? Ciri is in mortal danger and would probably perish if we don't join our efforts to fight the Hunt back. What would you offer for our risking our lives? What do you deem fair?"

"Yennefer has been working with the Emperor to find Ciri," Geralt said. "You are aware. She offers you an imperial pardon. No more hiding in dark holes. Isn't it fair enough? A chance for a new life?"

"Nice offer," Philippa said. "But just out of curiosity, Geralt: say we help you. Say we managed to defeat the Hunt and save Ciri from their ambition. What then? Have you given it any thought, whatsoever? What happens to Ciri's life then?"

"It's for her to decide," Geralt said, casting a quick glance at the door where Triss stood, her arms folded. She looked worried, her eyes darting between the three.

"She was a mere child when she was taken," Philippa said. "She never grew up, don't you see it? She doesn't know what's best for her. She might believe your life is full of wonders and she needs to be a witcher because she is your Surprise. But she cannot be mutated, she cannot overcome her mortal human nature, and you know better than anyone what your life is like. Now, try and place a young childish girl in your shoes and see how she fares." She leaned forward, her blindfold made Geralt feel her absent eyes were burning through him. "Do you wish to see her die? Torn apart by a kikimora? A griffin? A vampire? Is this a fate you wish for your ward? Your special girl?"

Geralt winced and cringed inwardly at every picture she painted. The worst part was that he couldn't argue her points.

"She will be free to choose," he said firmly, glaring at Philippa, right in the middle of her blindfold. "Free choice is what I wish for my ward. No one else has any say in her fate."

Margarita shook her head subtly, and Philippa sneered nastily.

"Well," she said, "we shall see how it all pans out."

"Do we have your help in return for a pardon?" Geralt asked.

"It's not the only thing we need," Margarita said. "We still need help in locating our remaining members, those who are still alive. It's best for everyone that we do. You need more sorceresses if you want to fight the Hunt."

Geralt nodded, "Very well. If you have any leads, I'll follow them."

"We are close," Triss said, stepping nearer. "As soon as we know where to look, we'll tell you. Thank you, Geralt."

"Yes, we're grateful," Margarita agreed. Philippa said nothing and watched him go in silence.

Yennefer was right behind the door, and Geralt closed it quickly to not let them notice.

"Were you listening?" he asked, regarding her with a mix of amusement and disbelief. He shook his head and started away from their room.

Yennefer straightened up from where she'd been pressing an ear to the wood panel trying to listen through it the old fashioned way when it opened. She hardly looked even the slightest bit embarrassed.

She'd heard a little of their conversation—their voices had picked up as things got heated—but she hadn't heard every word as the wood and the chatter from downstairs had muffled parts of their negotiations. Even if the gist was simple enough. Yennefer only had to confirm.

"I was," she answered, falling into step beside him. "They didn't bring up their plans for your brother? They accepted the pardons?"

Geralt nodded. "They also need help in saving the others. They're searching for clues - with whatever means they have."

He pushed the door into his room open and walked in, pulling the swords harness off.

"There was not a word about Kain."

"They still need you. They don't want to rub you the wrong way."

How long before Triss learned that he was Geralt's brother and how was that going to change up their schemes?

Yennefer walked over to the bed and immediately made herself comfortable. "You want to talk about the fact that you acquired a sibling?"

Geralt shrugged, unbuckling his jerkin. "How do you suggest we talk about it? It's still a new thought, and even though I like him and we're similar in many ways, it's not yet clear how I can be a brother to an Elder Blood. Assuming he is it – which is a big 'if', for I don't see any symptoms in him I had seen in Ciri when I brought her to Kaer Morhen."

"That's nothing a little investigation won't fix. I even know where to get most the source material. Avallac'h."

Yennefer didn't plan to ask him outright either. She didn't trust a thing that came out of his mouth and knew he'd limit certain aspects to serve himself.

"Thought or no thought though, you've got to have some kind of opinion on the matter. It's not everyday someone claims to be a witcher's brother. Blood brother. Do you trust it?"

"I do. He had no way of knowing what my mother looked like. He has no gain in staging anything. He never wanted to talk about his mother, but Avallac'h pressed him into it. Otherwise we would have never known."

"Why would Avallac'h press him into it? He made the connection?"

"Avallac'h has been very curious about him, and he pointed out that Kain couldn't have been at the witcher school forty years ago and be thirty-three with simple half-blood magic. He implied Kain had to be Elder Blood to be able to do that. And thus he pushed Kain into a dream session to find out the truth."

"Unless he is a sorcerer of some kind and likes to inhale mandrake. I'm not exactly a rounded eighty years myself." Not that Geralt would know that. Yennefer forgot. Although given her reputation she was sure he knew something of her age and the fact that it had nothing to do with her mask. "It's not unlikely that there could be a simpler explanation."

"He appears to be Elder Blood, though we still don't know how, since he has no connection to Ciri's royal line of Cintra. His— our mother manipulated him into using his powers to travel back in time and so delivered him to the School of the Cat. And after the massacre she found him wounded and did it again to return back to their time. He didn't remember that, so he didn't know."

Geralt discarded his jerkin and shirt on the chair and checked the water in the wooden tub the maids had prepared. It was still warm.

"She's been hiding him all his life, and judging by the fact that he didn't have to travel through different worlds to be on the constant run like Ciri, she did a far better job than I."

"Give yourself a bit more credit, Geralt," Yennefer mused, mulling over the information and everything their mother had done to save Kain. The more she learned, the more possible it became, but at the same time, two such destinies linked to one? It seemed unfathomable that the world would play a game like that, unless, in all seriousness, their mother somehow knew that their paths would collide and Geralt would be the only one to protect them – Kain.

Yennefer studied Geralt's back, slipped off the mattress and slowly walked up behind him.

"You did everything within your power to protect Ciri, and more. You're a warrior, not a sorcerer. Unless you've been holding out on me and discovered that you too can shift through time?" Perhaps he'd go back and prevent Yennefer from dealing with that Dijinn and from Ciri having to escape the first time.

"I'm not Elder Blood, I'm just a witcher." Geralt slipped out of his trousers and lowered himself into the tub. "Our mother is a healer, a sorceress. The answer is in his father, but we don't know who he was. She never told him."

Geralt slipped into the water and Yennefer eased onto the rim of the tub, dipping a hand inside to get a feel of the temperature. "Once we've dealt with The Wild Hunt you'll have something to do with your time. I assume for curiosity sake you'll be pursuing more information?"

"What information?"

Yennefer swept a chastising hand across the water to splash his chest gently. "Information on his father and his connection to your mother. What else?"

"Neither of us has any clues, and she is impossible to find unless she wants to be found. I don't think she does - she kept telling Kain they had to stay hidden and be apart for that reason."

"Yet if history serves, people—and I assume she is still human—make consequent mistakes in time as they grow weary of running the same circles." Yennefer probed his mind, wondering if he had interest in seeing her again and how he might react if it was to happen. Would he care?

She shifted along the wooden rim until she was able to touch her fingers to his chest, to run them along his shoulder and down his arm in light caress.

"I suppose with your successful negotiations earlier, that I should go see Emhyr and secure The Lodges pardons."

"Good, because it's our only reward for them. It better be possible."

"I'll make sure he understands that there isn't a choice. If he wants Ciri to survive The Wild Hunt then he'll do everything in his power to make it happen, even if it means he has to step over that infamous pride."

Emhyr wasn't the most pleasant to labor with, nor did Yennefer like his intentions for his descendant, but he had the resources and the means needed.

She withdrew her hand from Geralt's chest and stood, flicking the water off her fingertips, drying them on the nearby fabric he'd used to dry himself. "I'll hopefully be back in a day or two."

Geralt peered up at her, gauging. "You've barely been around and leaving again? Emhyr can wait - he's just a portal away, isn't he."

Hope sparked in Yennefer's chest with sickening longing.

She undid the intricate buttons and laces that held together her corset, shrugging out of her clothes, setting them aside on the back of a chair before sliding in behind him to join him in the bath.

Without a word and with help from a nearby cloth, she begun to wash him, taking her time with his back, stomach and arms, working him with the same kind of attentiveness as the bathhouse whores he liked to frequent.

Geralt watched her for a long time, taking in every bit of possible emotion running through her inscrutable and impossibly attractive features, every gesture, every touch she shared with his body that made him yearn for more. Soon enough it became painfully obvious to her straddling him.

Geralt reached to take her chin between his index finger and thumb and drew her to him for a kiss. Slow and probing at first, but growing more intense and demanding.

Yennefer's lips parted and brushed against his own with fervor the more uninhibited the kiss became, hands having stopped their obliging strokes, the forgotten cloth tickling her knee like an errant sea creature.

She shifted her hands from his body to the back of the tub for support and lever, rolling her hips until their lower bodies rubbed against one another, an uncoordinated friction that soon made Yennefer ache with need.

She pulled back from the kiss sharply, gasping for breath, reaching between them to take a hold of his cock, to caress him once or twice until he was rock hard.

Geralt's heartbeat picked up, his breath became subtly shaky. He kept watching her face while his fingers traveled along her arm and to her collarbone, trailing it and dipping lower slowly, coming to circle her hardened nipple.

His touch left a trail of fiery sparks in its wake, wiping away rationality and sense, replacing it with desire, vulnerability and desperation.

Yennefer's breath caught and her hand tightened on him, guiding him to her entrance, using her legs to ease down on him, to take him into her body with agonizing deliberateness and with the purpose of driving them both mad with lust.

And perhaps love.

* * *

Griffin was quite cozy in his cave. Kain made him a small campfire and left him to his evening ritual of cleaning the feathers.

The place Kain's feet carried him to was Fealinn's hut. She hugged him and put a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon and tomatoes in front of him. She helped herself to a plate, as well, and listened while Kain talked between bites. Deep in thought, she set a mug of cider in front of him and sat down sipping hers.

"It makes more sense now," she confessed. "Your power feels similar to Ciri's, and now we know why.

"As for your mother, I've got a lot of respect for her - how clever to hide you in the past! And making a connection to Brokilon to ensure your later return to it as well as continuation of your magic line, and getting The Waters to make you transition between times - it's nothing short of a master plan."

Kain peered at her, frowning, "Continuation of my line?"

She sneered, "She knew what the dryads would want from you - and she decided that it was the best place to hide new Elder Blood generation. How many are there, a dozen at least? If she's been driven by the wish to renew magic in this world, she has made a great progress."

Kain scoffed, setting the mug down. "The generation of brainwashed children with extra powers controlled by a community that dreams to destroy human kind. Great plan, indeed."

Fealinn laughed. "Oh, think about it, Cath! Look at yourself: how brainwashed have you been? The ancient blood - even impure - will enable them to make their own decisions. They won't live in the doctrine for their entire life, they will quickly learn to think for themselves. If you and Ciri are any indication, their stubborn and headstrong nature will help them pick their path."

She wasn't wrong, it felt reasonable. Kain nodded and closed the subject. It wasn't his favorite topic to discuss.

"Even if he plays coy, he must be the only one in close proximity to know anything," Fealinn said. "It's obvious how that elf pushed you to do that session. Why would he leave?"

"Because then he would appear uninterested and altruistic, and later he'd read the answers in Ciri's or Geralt' mind."

She smirked spreading her arms, "See, obvious. He knows far more than he lets on. We cracked those on our service. Only humans and dwarves and half-bloods - never an Aen Elle sage. The only lead you can hope for is whatever Ciri states he hides in that secret hideout." She regarded Kain in thought, then added, "Would you want to find your mother and ask?"

Kain reflected on it and shrugged. "I wouldn't want to ruin her hiding - she did say we both had to hide and be apart. I see there is a good reason for it. Geralt has been less fortunate when it comes to her attention, which means I can survive as it is. And also... it does feel like I have no burning questions - more like it would be seeking confirmation for things I already know."

She nodded. "Fair. I hope she is very good at hiding. Who knows, maybe Avallac'h is one of those she tried to hide you from. I'm pretty sure he is."

"He's yet to do anything questionable."

"He's a Sage," she reasoned. "He will be more careful."

She approached Kain, pressed herself against him at the door and touched her lips to his. She drew away and smiled.

"Be very careful, and not just with him," she said. "Be careful what you say to Geralt, Ciri, Dandelion and every person he could probe for answers."

"I believe it's a bit late for that," Kain smiled meekly.

She stroked his cheek. "No alertness is ever in vain, Cath. Be safe."

Kain planted a kiss to the corner of her mouth and stepped out with his hood on. The sky had cleared and stars were twinkling, though the chill brought by the rain lingered in the air.

* * *

Geralt let out a long unsteady breath, his eyes closing to savor the delectable sensation of her body moving against his. He had to open them again next moment to eagerly read her face, to let her gaze penetrate his and let him into its cold violet fire of magic and secrets.

Secrets he longed to reveal.

Yennefer's hand shifted from between their bodies, right hand coming to rest on his shoulder, massaging before circling around his neck so she could hug herself closer as she set the pace for their gyrating bodies.

She'd been thinking that every time they came together to make love that she'd end up crying, that it would consume her as it had done (bittered by the thought of him visiting another in Yennefer's absence), but it was there, only this time she wasn't mourning a loss of something incomprehensible but rejoicing, keen to jolt his memory.

"Pity you haven't considered toting around any stuffed unicorns," Yennefer murmured slightly breathless, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his jaw and then his neck.

Geralt unwittingly reclined his head back against the rim of the wooden tub, closing his eyes and letting her ignite his every cell with the magic of her kisses. Her words, however, cracked the harmony confusing him.

"What?" he muttered.

Yennefer clenched her muscles around him to focus his attention and briefly sucked at a spot on his neck, meeting his eyes. "Unicorns. Mystical creatures."

Geralt hissed in pleasure, feeling his focus scatter like spilt beads. "What… about them…"

She pressed a kiss to his mouth to impishly smother his pleasure, raising up until he'd almost slipped from her entirely before lowering herself again. "What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you think about them?"

Geralt's breath hitched subtly with the waves of pleasure coursing through him with her every move, every tease and brush of her lips. Her question was strange… so strange, like a gust of wind behind the window…

"What… do you mean… I don't think about them."

Yennefer fisted a hand into his hair, gripping him punishingly as she reclaimed his mouth and picked up the pace, becoming more frantic with every rock.

Geralt hissed again, pleased with her rough urges, his fingers squeezing on her hips and sliding higher, cupping her breasts and squeezing, stroking, pinching her nipples with a small sneer twitching in the corners of his mouth as he did.

Yennefer arched with and into his hands, groaning into the kiss as the first beginnings of that delicious release began to take root.

Geralt's mouth opening with laborious breath pushing out in hitched gasps as the orgasms rolled nearer like an avalanche of heat, he found her throat with his hand, closing his fingers around it and locked his lips with hers in a deep, passionate kiss. His other hand's grip on her hip was bruising as they hit the top together in a blinding flash of ecstasy, groaning into each other's skin.

The inside of Yennefer's thighs ached from exertion, a hand wrapping around his own, keeping it locked around her throat, wanting in part for him to apply pressure, to end her as he already had done and rebuild them anew. She wanted so desperately for it to be that unassuming, practically screaming into his mouth as their lips fused in torrid hunger and the wave of blinding heat coiled around her.

When it was over and their movements had jerked to a stop, Yennefer stayed pressed against Geralt's chest, drinking him in until she no longer could, astonished that there weren't tears in her eyes like there had been every other time they'd copulated.

She should be disheartened that he didn't remember their previous love making, that no amount or mention of anything they might have done stirred any recognition, but truly, what was she expecting? For him to come with revelation?

Yennefer had magic, but she didn't have a magic pussy.

* * *

Eventually, their table emptied one by one. Dandelion left first and Priscilla soon followed, having to take care of newly arrived patrons. Zoltan murmured something about a Gwent game at another tavern and left as well.

Ciri sat alone for a few minutes, emptying her cup and idly watching Dandelion and Priscilla take care of new customers, before finally getting to her feet as well.

Geralt and Yennefer had not returned. Did that mean they were still in conversation with the Lodge?

She climbed the stairs and sneakily pressed her ear to the sorceresses' door, trying to listen for the familiar voices of her parents.

When Kain returned, the table was occupied by another group and rather noisy one: they were already drunk and laughing explodingly.

He glimpsed Priscilla behind the counter and Dandelion among a group of guests with best glasses in hands.

Kain went past them hurrying for the stairs and up to get to his room. There, in depth of the corridor he found Ciri with her ear to the Lodge's door.

"Nothing!" Ciri exclaimed when she heard approaching footsteps behind her, straightening. "I wasn't doing anything. Oh, it's you..." She breathed a small sigh of relief and led Kain to his room, shutting the door behind them lest one of the sorceresses heard them and demanded another chat. "Feeling better?"

Kain regarded her with alarmed confusion and took the swords off his back. "I wasn't feeling bad to begin with."

"Oh...right." She leaned back against his door. "Geralt went to talk with the Lodge and he hasn't returned yet."

Kain stilled for a moment, then began to unbuckle his jerkin. "Feels like he's in his room." He jerked a thumb toward the wall between their quarters. "There."

His shirt under it was still a bit damp after the evening swim in the woods. He put two logs out of the offered pile into the small fireplace and flames flared to life beneath them, gradually growing their tongues.

Ciri frowned, not because Kain could sense him but because Geralt had not stopped by to let her know what had happened. Did that mean it was bad? That The Lodge demanded more than they could give?

"You went swimming?" she asked, having caught sight of the damp fabric of Kain's shirt when he moved past her.

Warmth soon started to spread through the room, courtesy of his magical fire.

"Indeed. I've been to the woods, and it's stopped raining."

Kain lay the jerkin on the chair, then pulled his shirt off over his head and hung it on the back of it, then moved it to the fireplace to dry it quicker.

Ciri tried not to stare – she truly did. But it was a losing battle. His chest was so smooth; his magical healing abilities had clearly saved him plenty of scars. She wondered what it would be like to lick those little ridges of muscles across his stomach…

Ciri cleared her throat and forced her gaze to the ceiling. "Is the griffin alright?"

"For as long as he finds a cave and some prey for breakfast, he's fine." Kain leaned the swords against the wall next to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. "Are you all right?"

Depending on what the Lodge had said, Ciri was not quite sure. But... "Right now? Yes."

"Would be nice, but you still are worried."

"So little it is barely noticeable. It is my default state," Ciri said, taking a seat beside him.

"It's too stirred for a default state," Kain commented. "Aim for calmer."

Ciri searched his gaze. "Alright." She reached for him, gently taking his face in her hands and leaned in to kiss him. It felt as though her heart was going to leap out of her throat, but that sensation faded into the background as a pleasant tingling in her lower abdomen came to the forefront. His lips were soft against hers and she was certain had she been standing her knees would have been feeling weak.

When her hands reached for Kain, he knew her intention, but the touch of her mouth to his still came as a shock - an electric shock that went through his nerves and set his heart on a quickened pace. It wasn't unpleasant, but what else it was he couldn't quite understand. A part of him was resisting and wished to run away.

He did not pull away, but he did not quite open to Ciri's touch either. She withdrew, trying to savor the sensation instead of embracing the fear he would outright reject her and run.

"Sorry," she murmured, turning to face forward again and giving him that space he clearly needed.

Kain watched her for a bit, unable to think. He didn't even know what he could think. In simple terms, she pushed for something he was avoiding.

"Are you sorry?" Kain asked.

Ciri considered that a moment. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. I'm not sorry I did it. I have been wanting to for quite some time now."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you want to do it?"

"Because I like you. Because I am attracted to you. You know this already," Ciri said softly, a little annoyed he was making her repeat it once more when she expected not to hear any of the sort in return. It made her feel so very vulnerable.

She was lonely, even despite her family surrounding her - after years apart she hadn't found the connection yet and sought for another one that felt more real and fresh.

None of that she would agree with, however, if Kain voiced it.

"I like you, Ciri," he admitted in a soft voice, looking at the fire crackling in the fireplace. "I admire you. You're so open, despite everything. And I'm not. I've been perfecting the art of being closed, ever since the School of Cat helped me discover that lust was the only way for the women there and a witcher was not meant to love. And Brokilon reinforced the lessons. It's hard to overcome a habit as strong."

"And what does that mean?" Ciri asked, toying with the frayed edges of his bedding. "For us?"

"It depends on what you want for 'us'."

"I don't know yet," she admitted. "What we already have. Friendship. And eventually, more."

"Eventually," Kain murmured and bit back a bitter chuckle. He studied her for a moment, eyes narrowing. "After all those people, including Eredin, trying to get you in bed by any means possible, how do you find it in you to be open to it?"

"I'm not open to them. I'm open to those I might actually want to have such an experience with. There lies the big difference: Being forced and having the option to choose for myself."

Kain frowned at a sudden thought that popped in his mind and eyed her with a mild suspicion. "You haven't... had it before, have you?"

Ciri didn't meet his gaze. "Not with a man, no."

Kain considered it. "So that's why that hag in the tent put it so."

Ciri shrugged. "I don't know her reasoning. Does it make you see me differently?"

"It just shows why a certain level of curiosity is still there." He regarded her with interest. "Did you love her?"

"No," Ciri said, then reconsidered. "Yes. I don't know. It hurt when she died."

"You felt something for her," Kain stated. "What was it?"

Ciri lifted her shoulders in a shrug again. "Not sure I can find the words for it. Admiration, maybe? She was beautiful and clever and brave. A very good fighter. I think I thought I loved her back then. I was twelve or thirteen and she… was my first real sexual experience."

Kain nodded, peering at the fire pensively.

"My first one was at School. A Feline everybody wanted. I was a bit hopeful at fourteen and open to feeling more than she ever would, and she was curious, insatiable and wanted to break me in. I stirred her curiosity. I learned pretty soon how all of it was never going beyond physical lust for any female there around me. I stood out among those mutated young witchers and had to compensate by self-control – like signs with magic. I learned to control emotions and desires as well as any mutated witcher in ideal would. I left all ideas about mixing feelings and sex in my gone childhood.

"And Brokilon… There was nothing. No feelings, emotions or even desire itself was absent. It was all for the results. Rare males were breeding studs. Morénn was the only one treating me differently. But I know I didn't love her. Not with that grand love that claims you forever. There was affection, attraction, appreciation. I was grateful for at least that connection that helped endure their forest life. I felt lost when she died."

Ciri frowned. "If there was no desire, how could they go through with it? How did that work?"

"Physical and emotional desire are different things," Kain said. "They know ways to trick the body. Your own nature can trick your body. It can even misinterpret emotions and react with unwanted results."

"They do that to you?"

Kain shrugged, not liking to remember. "I knew their ways. I knew it would be required if I chose to stay. So I let them. My body had its own needs, and they all were pretty. Cold and detached, but pretty and skilled."

Skilled. Something Ciri was not. She nodded. "I suppose sometimes we must make sacrifices. I gave in to the Aen Elle's demands and attempted to give them a child so that they would let me go."

Kain turned his head slowly and regarded her. "What did you let them do?"

"I agreed to let the King fuck me. He didn't, in the end. Couldn't go through with it. But he tried. Over and over."

Kain made a pained face, not really sure what to make out of it.

"I told you: he couldn't go through with it. Fairly certain it doesn't count."

Kain was confused. "What doesn't count?"

Ciri swallowed, feeling distinctly uncomfortable now. "He was never… inside me. Not with his cock."

Kain shook his head slowly and turned back to watch the fire. "It seems we have it even on the freak experiences. That's why it amazes me you never shut yourself down like I did."

"I did. Literally. For weeks. My captors called me an empty puppet. But I found my way back.

"I am fueled by emotion. I cannot tamper it down like I should."

"And I can't let them out because I'm used to hold them locked up."

"Do you think I am attractive?" Ciri asked suddenly, watching him. "Have I been mistaken in thinking we have… chemistry?"

Kain turned to her, perplexed. Her eyes were searching him, almost frantic. "You're beautiful, Ciri," he said. "It's simply hard for me to… to let myself feel. It's been too long since I was fourteen."

"I am not trying to push you. I just… It is hard for me to understand what you are thinking sometimes. And if all the attraction was completely one-sided, I would rather know now before I… you know. Get in too deep."

Kain sighed and squeezed her shoulder, looking into her unbelievable emerald eyes. "You're an amazing girl, and I like you. I'd die protecting you. The attraction…" he trailed off, frowning in search of how to put it. "You deserve the world and your dreams coming true, someone who isn't confused, who's open and passionate like you are. And I'm not even sure how to feel, anymore." He stroked her cheek and withdrew his hand. "I became a true witcher without mutations and made it my armor. It grew into my skin, and it's hard to reverse it."

That left Ciri more confused than she had been in the first place. But she did understand his struggle and had been truthful when she'd said she did not mean to push him.

Ciri smiled a little and swept the hair out of his eyes with her hand. "Alright. I shall keep all that in mind. I cannot promise you I will no longer harbor romantic feelings for you. I can't just turn that off. But I will respect the boundaries you set."

Kain narrowed his eyes with both wonder and doubt, "How are you so sure in your feelings? Maybe it's just a need of closeness, seeking a connection."

The groans from behind the wall broke the mood a bit and almost made Kain smirk.

"Oh, Gods…" Ciri breathed at the recognizable sound of her happy parents.

At least they were getting along, she assumed.

"Do you think I have not been in need of closeness and connections most of my life? Do you think I have not searched for it? Everyone I had such an experience with… I only imagined them with me until I could find Geralt and Yennefer. It was just a survival tactic. With you it is very different. I don't know how to explain it other than… I feel you in my heart."

It was an explanation too uncertain and veiled for Kain's mind and logic, and he didn't quite know what it felt like.

"Elder Blood…" he murmured. "It might be that magical attraction that tells you there's another one similar to you. What if you mistook it for… romantic feeling?"

"You are doing it again," Ciri said, close to glaring. "Stop trying to write off my feelings as something else because it makes you uncomfortable. You are not required to return them, but you do not get to dismiss my emotions as if I am not capable of understanding them myself."

A somber shadow passed through Kain's face, a small bitter smile touched the corners of his mouth. "I'm asking you because _I am_ – struggling to understand what I feel. It's hard to decipher what you feel when you've learned to elude it as well as I did."

"Yes. _Your_ feelings, not mine. Trust that I know my own."

Ciri was silent a moment.

"It is alright to take your time. To search and explore, like I will have to do with my magic. But it is important to me that you know. So I will not have regrets. Because I know I took a risk and, no matter the outcome, it was worth it."

Kain smiled sadly, "Was it?"

"Yes," she said determinedly. "Because then at least I know I did what I could. I would not be left with bitter regrets, wondering what might have happened had I only plucked up my courage."

"You put way too much faith in me," Kain said, smiling. "More than I'm worth."

"You don't see yourself like I do, I think."

"No, I don't. But then again, I know myself better than you do, I dare assume."

"Probably. Does not mean you recognize your own effect on other people. Or the world around you."

Arguing this was useless because she was right: when it came to any personal relationship Kain tried to avoid, he never paid too much mind to discovering a reason why someone tried to have a relationship with him. Those contemplations ended at Cat School with its disappointments.

"Are you going to be all right with your sleep?" he asked to change the subject as he got up to check his shirt. It was dry enough and he put it on.

"Yennefer gave me the draught and it should last me five days. I trust her abilities, so yes, I think I will be fine."

Ciri got to her feet, assuming the change of topic meant he wanted to call it a night.

"For as long as you're certain," Kain shrugged. "If you're not, you can stay here." He gave a small humorous smile and added, "I won't bother you with sex, so we'll just sleep."

"You may not, but I might," Ciri teased, then seriously considered it. "Alright. Maybe I should stay until I am absolutely certain the potion will work. I'll go fetch one."

Kain nodded and fed another log to the fire, then poured himself a cup of water from the pitcher on the table. Zoltan had learned his preferences and was using the knowledge.

Ciri stepped outside and to her own room where she found the pouch of glass vials, taking one of them with her back to Kain's room. She placed it on the nightstand and unlaced her boots, removed her jerkin, and eventually her trousers. She felt comfortable enough now to sleep in her shirt and undergarments, even with Kain next to her. Their little talk had helped, though he probably did not think so.

And maybe Fealinn had helped as well.

When she settled under the covers, Kain lay down beside her and waved a hand to put out the candles on the table. The fireplace crackled cozily casting orange flickers across the walls.

Ciri leaned up on her elbow so she could drink the potion, wincing slightly at the bitter taste before she swallowed it down and put the flask back on the nightstand.

She got comfortable beneath the covers, turning to face him because she quite liked knowing he was close by, and closed her eyes.

* * *

A cover of fog lies over the swamps and looks like a shimmering veil of silver, but Kain can't see any sources of light. There is a dark sky above him and no moon in sight. As if the dark of night has swallowed the moon and left only stars to twinkle as if they cry over the loss of their mother.

_New Moon_, Kain muses, looking around. _Not a good time_.

The swamps are eerily quiet; no frogs, no drowners, no water hug... He walks slowly, trying to make no sounds. He doesn't know where to go or whether he even should move, but there are no other ideas.

What if he's stuck here if he doesn't move?

Not only the quiet of this place is eerie - no sense of direction to hold on to adds no certainty, either. Kain tries to stick to one direction but there is no way of telling if he hasn't lost it. As well as how much time has passed. It seems to be flowing endlessly.

There is something far ahead among the trees. He can't make anything out until he gets closer. It's a tall wooden house that looks like a church with its tall cone-like roof. A dozen yards to the right there is a hut like a hunter would have. But it doesn't feel interesting. It feels dead.

The tall cone-roof house, however, feels...

_...dark... black... thick like a monster blood that sticks to you like tar..._

Kain reaches for the door knob, hesitating. He wishes he knew if there is a way to get out of here without looking inside.

A laughter. A quiet sound from the inside... He yanks his hand back from the knob, listening.

Sounded like...

A cackle.

Wincing, he steps back and something gleams under the doorknob rocking on its chain. He narrows his eyes in sudden recognition.

A Wolf medallion. Vesemir's.

Kain snapped his eyes open, staring at the ceiling while he tried to slow down his pulse.

* * *

Sleep came easily to Ciri and there were no dreams. No Eredin or past trauma waiting for Ciri in the darkness.

And yet she did not sleep all the night through. Kain stirred beside her. It was light. Such small, subtle movements she should not have noticed. But she did.

She pushed herself onto her elbow and watched him, his closed eyelids fluttering slightly before they suddenly snapped open.

"Don't tell me he visits you now."

Kain looked at her with a subtle reprimand. "You can't sleep again?"

"I felt something. You were stirring," Ciri said, laying back down with her hands folded beneath her cheek. "Nightmare?"

"No. I was in some swamps. And there was a wooden house. I didn't go in because I felt something bad inside."

Ciri frowned. "Do you think it is a vision? Something to do with your mother?"

"Rather with you. Or us." He looked at her. "There was a Wolf Medallion on the door knob. I saw it before I woke. It's Vesemir's. Yours."

Ciri swallowed. "The Crone?"

"I don't have any other ideas."

"An omen? Or do you think she was just on your mind?"

"I wasn't thinking about her. But seems like she's thinking about us."

"Not surprising. We killed her sisters," Ciri remarked, looking to the ceiling.

"It was a rather ambitious intention. We could do two, but three was a bit too much." Kain sighed. "If I could have used my powers there. But I couldn't draw from there - it was their territory. Drawing from a magic so dark is like poisoning oneself."

"I know. It would have gone differently had we both used our powers. But, as you've told me, regrets are futile." She turned to him again. "And two Crones dead are better than none."

"One bitter Crone might do damage, too, if she comes up with the right idea of where to hit harder," Kain mused, folding his arms beneath his head.

"Yes. But there is no use worrying about that until it happens. Is there?" He was the one who had been trying to change Ciri's thinking about that, after all.

"I hope so. If it's just a dream due to her anger, then yes, we can leave it be."

It was dawning behind the windows. Kain closed his eyes in hopes to not end up in the swamps again.

If not, at least they'd face her together.

Ciri watched him as he tried to drift back to sleep and after a while, she joined him, slumbering lightly but happily beneath the warm covers.

* * *

Yennefer brought her hands to the side of Geralt's face, to the larger scar across his chest and then carefully brushed his hair aside, reaching for the cloth she'd lost in the water.

"It's probably best you get some rest, I suspect The Lodge is going to do their utmost to run you ragged saving the rest of their members. Will you need me?"

Geralt drank in her face with that slight color in her cheeks, with a gleam in her eyes that were like cold fire shining amongst the rain of raven locks, her lips parted and her breast raising high while she was catching her breath.

He smiled lazily, stroking her thigh. "I thought we made a good team, until you refused to jump down to the sewers with me."

"If there was a decent incentive in it for me I would." Although, if he had even an inkling of who Yennefer was he'd know that wasn't true and that she was merely being lively. She smirked and glanced down at his chest. "I believe your body is sufficiently clean, although there is nothing I can do about the mind."

"There is nothing I would want to be done to my mind," Geralt reasoned. "There's been enough done already, if we believe all the testimonies."

It had been said in jest, and yet Yennefer understood where he was coming from. Poor choice of humor on her part. She set aside the cloth, captured his lips once more and then slowly stood so that she could get out.

"What if it was to fix what had been broken?"

"What do you want to say? That I've been broken?"

"Of course not. The only thing that's been broken is us. At least the part in which you remember me. What we've been through and how long it's taken to get us where we are – could have been."

Geralt sighed and looked at her wearily. "If only I could give you what you want. I don't know how."

"Nor do I know how to take it. You've also just said you'd rather not have your mind scrambled again. Not that I blame you. You've been through it twice too much. Every time I've been one of the more predominant fixtures lost."

She patted herself dry with the sheet that had been laid out for him.

"I'm beginning to feel it might be a spiritual arrangement. I know you don't remember this, but when we dealt with the golden dragon, he said we were made for one another and that it wasn't going to work. He wasn't the last voice. I didn't do us any favors either."

Geralt studied her in silence while he thought about it.

"And now you think otherwise?" he asked.

"No, it's nothing like that. Our lives have always been about destiny and fate. Which we've tempted often. I'm beginning to wonder if it's fighting back."

Geralt chuckled softly. "I didn't believe in destiny until I met Ciri, first in Brokilon, then at that trader's house that took her in as a war orphan."

"Neither did I until I met you. Until you quite literally intertwined our fates and provided me with our family."

Dressed, Yennefer moved toward the tub again and slid a hand into his hair, combing it away from his face, leaning down to press a kiss to his neck.

"I've to speak to Dandelion and then I'm headed off for the night to get some sleep. If something comes up, don't hesitate to send me a message, otherwise I'll check in in the morning to see if the Lodge has made any progress on their search."

Geralt emitted a hem. "Leaving again? You could stay. That bed isn't the smallest." He got up and reached for the towel.

"You make it sound as if I'm trying to run away." Even that presented hope. Yennefer knew sex was a superficial factor for both of them on occasion and that it was enjoyable in most instances but she wasn't expecting it to become domestic.

Not while he didn't _know_ her.

She pressed a hand to her clothed stomach, murmuring a spell that disintegrated the fabric and returned them to the abandoned chair. Yennefer gifted him a smirk, cast a glance at her reflection in the nearest mirror to make sure her usual mask was still in place and hadn't been smudged and then slid beneath the covers waiting on him to join her.

Geralt dried himself off, tossed the towel on the chair and went to bed wearing a content sneer. She looked perfect without her clothes on, but there was suddenly another thought - of a white unicorn. It puzzled him momentarily, making him stare at her as if trying to imagine her in another scene. It didn't come easy, and Geralt discarded the strange thought by claiming another kiss from the vixen.

The look of brief confusion and fascination didn't go unnoticed, making Yennefer involuntarily attempt to probe his mind, to gauge what he was thinking, only he'd already started moving toward her, cutting off the thought and need.

She pressed her mouth to his, wrapped her arms around him and easily fell into him again, content with making use of his body until they were both spent and had eventually succumbed to slumber.


	32. Chapter 32

When everyone met downstairs for breakfast in the morning, Priscilla informed them that Avallac'h was gone.

"He said he had to sail ahead to Skellige and meet you all there when you arrive," the poet girl said, setting down the mugs and two pots of tea. "He left very early - I was up barely ten whole minutes."

"It's understandable," Geralt said. "He's not at home among us. And he already found out all he wanted to know."

Ciri shared a look with Kain, her mind immediately on Avallac'h's secret lair. Did he know she had told Kain? Was he going there to clean it out? Get rid of whatever information might help them figure out what the elf was up to? That was troubling.

She sat down next to Yennefer to have breakfast, looking between her and Geralt as subtly as she was able. "Did you have a good night?"

"I did," Yennefer said, scooping up of the oatmeal she'd chosen for the morning on a spoon, hovering it within Ciri's direction playfully. "Slept like the dead." She always did when she was with Geralt and even the dark bothered her less. "What about you? Did the draught help?"

Geralt cast a fleeting glance at Yennefer and Ciri chatting, and got busy with the fried eggs and bacon when Priscilla brought the plates.

"It did. Thank you."

Ciri reached for the bread basket on the middle of the table and grabbed two slices for herself before seeking out the butter.

"How did it go last night?" she asked Geralt.

Geralt cast a quick puzzled glance Ciri's way, distracted by the eggs and bacon, uncertain whether she wanted to know about Yennefer and him. "What?"

"...The Lodge? Philippa and Margarita? You spoke to them, no?"

"I did. They hope for Emhyr's pardon and our help in finding other members if they get some leads."

Ciri watched him, surprised. "That is all?"

"For now it seems so," Geralt confirmed. "They also expressed their worry concerning your choices in life - they don't think it fits you to be a witcher, because you physically aren't one."

Ciri snorted. "Well, as they are neither my parents nor my lover, they have no say in my life choices." She took a bite of her bread. "Who are they searching for? Who is still alive?"

"They didn't say. I have a suspicion they don't know much for sure yet themselves."

"How are we to track them down if we don't know who we are searching for?"

"As far as I gathered, it's not my job to track anyone down until the Lodge says so." Geralt shrugged and sent a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

That was more confusing than enlightening. "Alright," Ciri said, chewing her breakfast with a furrowed brow.

"They're trying to contact the remaining survivors," Geralt explained, washing the eggs down with the offered tea. "It takes time and effort given how mistrustful they all are and how they feared to be tracked over some contacts and any shreds of information. It's fair, they've got plenty to fear."

"I suppose so. Not a good time for any magic wielder." Ciri looked to Yennefer. "Have you experienced any trouble from the Eternal Fire while here in Novigrad?"

"Not personally. I've made it my mission to avoid them unless absolutely necessary."

"There is a small comfort," Ciri muttered. "How about you, Geralt? Any dealing with those lunatics?"

"Mostly they don't deal with me," he said. "Those who did got their fill of steel and blood. It was when I was searching for Triss to find out anything about you. They were after her, as well."

"What a sad bunch of people," Ciri commented, stuffing a piece of bread into her mouth. "With nothing better to do."

"What are you talking about?" Triss came up, smiling and cheerful. She looked rested and gazed upon Ciri with affection. "How are you doing, my darling?"

Geralt finished his tea, then got up and took my plate to the counter; Triss sat down and poured herself a cup.

"The Eternal Fire," Ciri said, looking up as Triss entered. "And their sad, sad existence." She reached for another slice of bread and offered the redhead a smile. "I'm alright. How are you? How are your, um, friends?"

"They sent me to take care of their breakfast," Triss said. "They don't want to show their faces unless necessary, still recovering."

She sipped her tea, casting a curious look at Kain who was finishing his meal.

Ciri nodded. "Have you figured out who else among you might still be, um, alive?" she asked, trying to be delicate and probably failing.

Triss frowned, "We hope to find Fringilla. Last we knew of her, she was alive. But now we can't reach her, nor locate. Which is understandable if she doesn't use magic."

"You should start with where you last saw her or heard she was. Could be that she decided to go into deep hiding because of the witch hunters," Yennefer offered.

"No doubt," Triss murmured, casting another glance Kain's way.

Ciri followed Triss' gaze to Kain for the second time, and for some reason, the mere fact she was looking at him made her stomach clench painfully. "Do you think she'd be willing to help with our cause?"

"If she's in trouble and we help her - she might." Triss caught Kain's eyes and smiled.

Ciri threw the remains of her bread back onto her plate and stood, rounding the table so she could lean down to talk to Kain in a whisper, purposely blocking Triss' view of him with her back. "Think we could do some of that training today?"

Triss's constant look within Kain's direction didn't go unnoticed and as selfish as it was, Yennefer was content she wasn't making love eyes at Geralt.

She pushed aside her finished oatmeal, licked her lips and twisted in her chair. "Given the Lodge's supposed memorandum for peace, I believe she may."

Triss gaze bounced toward Yennefer, flaring slightly with indignation. Yennefer smiled.

After a seconds narrowing her gaze drifted to a plate and then the boy whose eye she was trying to catch, thwarted now by Ciri. Could she be any less subtle?

Kain finished his tea and sent Ciri a mental message: "Is that a secret?"

Ciri blinked in surprise when Kain's voice sounded in her head and attempted to send something back. "Yes."

She wasn't sure it had gotten through, so she nodded for good measure, subtly gesturing in the direction of the room the sorceresses occupied.

'You were supposed to ask Yennefer for help in training,' Kain sent another thought. 'She agreed?'

"Haven't had a chance since last we spoke," Ciri whispered. "I will do it now."

A man wearing a light leather attire with the Nilfgaardian sigil on his chest entered the inn, attracting all the gazes. He headed for the counter and smiled at Priscilla, clearly appreciating her beauty. But then his eyes flicked to the man sitting at the other end of the bar, his white hair and wolfish eyes glueing the messenger's stare to him.

"You the Witcher?" the messenger asked in hoarse voice. Priscilla set a cup of mead on the counter, and he drank greedily, never taking his eyes off the Witcher. "Are you Geralt of Rivia? I was told I could find you here."

Geralt nodded, "So you have. Speak."

"I'm bearing a message from the High Emperor Emhyr var Emreis to Geralt of Rivia and Yennefer of Vengerberg."

"You can speak, I shall pass it on to her."

"I have to do so privately and with both of you present," the messenger said, visibly worried. "That is the order."

Geralt sighed and turned to the table, "Yennefer! We have a guest." He stood up and gestured for the stairs as he looked back to the messenger. "We shall be alone upstairs. Just as you were ordered."

Ciri looked up from Kain once the door opened and a stranger stepped inside. It did not take long for her to identify who had sent him, though. She knew before he spoke his intentions out loud.

Emhyr.

Ciri straightened and watched Geralt and Yennefer with mild concern, trailing their progress up the stairs.

Triss was still trying to set her sights on Kain, slipping in closer to the duo as much as she could and the others would allow.

Geralt calling Yennefer distracted Triss from her mission, driving her to sit back and to regard them with interest and sullenness as they headed for the stairs.

* * *

Once in Gerald's room, Yennefer closed the door behind them and studied the man in acquainted attire. Was it that Emhyr had sent for her? Had he heard they'd found the rest of The Lodge and if so, how?

Yennefer presented the man a smile that could have been considered polite and waited on him to speak.

"This man says he's a messenger from Emhyr sent to speak to you and me in private," Geralt told Yennefer with a meaningful look, hoping she would cast a spell to keep all that's said inside.

"That is correct," the messenger said, bowing his head.

Considering what Yennefer had done over the last few days and the interest Triss had sent them on the way up, Yennefer had made a point of turning from them, pressing her hands to the door and muttering a spell that would seal the room – keeping anyone from coming in and noise from going out.

She turned back when she was done and smiled at the messenger, moving to stand beside Geralt while she listened to him relay his message.

The man continued: "His Imperial Majesty asks you both to set out on a journey to Vizima and visit His Imperial Majesty at his palace. You shall not arrive by means of magic, however, due to the current political situation. His Imperial Majesty believes you understand that your journey is to begin as soon as possible, as in immediately upon hearing this message." The messenger bowed his head again and stepped back, indicating that he had finished.

"We're to travel in convoy with you?"

"I am to return on my own," the messenger said. "I have other orders to follow. You are to travel without convoy."

"Thank you."

Yennefer nodded, wanting to ask if he had any news on why they were being summoned, assuming that he wouldn't care to tell them even if he did and instead probed his mind. She wanted to make sure they weren't going to walk into fire.

"Do anymore of those orders have to do with us?"

"No, I'm afraid not, Lady Yennefer," the messenger said. "I have to be on my way now, if you allow." He bowed and headed for the door.

* * *

Ciri kept staring at the stairs for a while after the trio disappeared. Kain pulled her down to sit.

"Relax, they're going to be fine."

Triss also looked after them, but then her eyes returned to Ciri and Kain. "You know what it's about?"

Kain shrugged. "It's a royal messenger."

Ciri shook her head. "I know the Emperor expects Geralt to bring me to him. He won't, though. Not unless I agree."

Triss poured herself more tea. "Why wouldn't you consider that?" she asked. "I know how you feel about being an heir, darling, but Kings don't like to be denied. He is a powerful ruler that has means to get what he wants. It might be wiser to at least give him hope that you'll consider."

Ciri's head snapped in Triss' direction. "I don't owe that man anything. Why should I give him hope?"

"Self-preservation, Ciri," Triss hissed, leaning forward toward the girl. "He's a dangerous man. He could've killed people you loved many times already. He still can. You don't want to make him feel he has to prove his power to you."

She leaned back and looked at the messenger descending the stairs. The man went past their table, nodded at Priscilla behind the counter with a smile, and exited the inn.

"Same as The Hunt. Same as Vilgefortz back in the day. Even The Lodge would consider it. Should I give in to everyone who wants to possess me?" Ciri asked coldly.

"I didn't suggest to give in, Ciri," Triss reprimanded. "I said it might be a bad idea to reject him from the get go. He might punish your friends to make you regret it."

* * *

Yennefer picked up on nothing out of the ordinary going on around inside the messenger's head, thanking him once more for the message before gesturing that he was free to leave. He ambled out and left the two alone.

"I'll return to Spearhead and gather my belongings and come back to say goodbye to Ciri. We'll leave from here?"

"Perhaps we shouldn't be in a hurry," Geralt said. "After all, we know what it's about - he's heard we found Ciri and now he wants her by his side. He will demand that."

"You heard the messenger. We're to leave as soon as. No magic. That's going to take time and I'd rather we not get on his bad side. We need those pardons and he'll be less inclined to give it to us if we disobey him."

"It's going to take not even a full day," Geralt argued. "Why are you so eager to run to him as soon as he yanks your leash?"

"Because he is a powerful figurehead. He's her father. Even if only by blood. He can make our lives very difficult. You know that."

Geralt shook his head dismissively. "Do as you will."

He left her alone in her room and went back down to the inn.

Yennefer understood why Geralt didn't want to rush off to talk to Emhyr, he'd been the same way when they first went to the Emperor for help in finding Ciri. They didn't get on and no amount of having the same person in common helped. Fortunately, that wasn't something that was necessary on all days.

The seal would fade in time so Yennefer didn't bother to remove it, instead, she raised her hands to the air, conjured the shift of golden light and headed for Spearhead.

* * *

"Just like the others," Ciri pointed out. "A tyrant like the rest."

She got to her feet seeing Geralt come down the stairs. "What happened? What was that about?"

"Emhyr wants to see us," Geralt said. "Yennefer and me. We are to travel on horses." He sat at the table beside Kain. "Yennefer insists on leaving as soon as possible like he demanded." He poured himself a cup of tea, winced and drank.

Triss watched eagerly, sipping hers.

"It's a bit strange," Kain said. "Not a word about Ciri implies another reason, but it's a bit unlikely."

"I know," Geralt said. "Only one way to find out."

"Do you not intend to go?" Ciri asked, noticing that Yennefer had not followed him back downstairs.

"I do. I won't make her go alone. When she's ready, we shall go." Geralt set his empty cup down and cast a glance at Kain he knew he would perceive, then got up, heading toward the door. "I'll see how Roach is doing."

Kain was not the only one who understood and despite Ciri's urge to follow Geralt outside, sad to be losing him again, if only for a few days, she remained.

Triss finished her tea reluctantly, then got up, too. "I'll see about that breakfast. It's probably ready."

Once she went to the kitchen, Kain turned to Ciri: "We're to follow Geralt when she goes upstairs. He wants to talk somewhere else."

Ciri looked over her shoulder but Geralt had already disappeared outside. "Alright. Do you think she's right? Triss?"

"About what? Your attitude? She suggests cunning, and she's not wrong in reading into the Emperor's possible intentions. But we cannot prevent his plans if he has them. All we can do is react when he makes his move."

"Is it cunning?" Ciri asked calmly. "Or simply reinforcing he can call me like a dog?"

Kain watched Triss saunter past them carrying a pot of tea, and two maids followed her with trays with meals.

"I find it useful when enemies underestimate you. If he thinks he is in control, he's more likely to miss some things."

Kain nodded toward the door and went for the stables.

Perhaps Ciri was just being a coward? Because she truly did not wish to see him, the man she had come to despise so much.

She rose and followed Kain outside.

* * *

The room was as Yennefer left it and nothing had been touched, not even the bed that she'd slept in the night before last or the bloodied clothes she'd removed from Triss.

How quickly she'd healed.

Margarita and Philippa must have added onto Yennefer's magical healing for her to be walking around like she was after the torture she'd endured.

She gathered her belongings together, set them altogether in one spot for easy travel and then, when she was ready, carried every one of them back to inn.

Yennefer shoved it into the corner of Geralt's room out of the way where she planned to store it while they were away. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't take her phylactery on horseback and nor was she going to bother with a wagon.

They wouldn't be gone very long—or so Yennefer hoped—and anything else that was needed if dire could be sent for some time or another.

Either that or she'd risk the magic and fetch it herself.

She grabbed a set of clean clothing, her hairbrush, make-up and stuffed them into a carry hold she'd used for shorter day trips. She made sure she had silver pieces, a couple of potions for healing and otherwise and set it all down under her cloak on Geralt's bed. When she was done, Yennefer made her way for the downstairs in search of either him or Ciri, pausing briefly outside of The Lodge's room to listen for what they might be doing inside.

"Spying?" Triss asked when she appeared on the landing and saw Yennefer hovering outside her chosen bedroom. There were two other people behind her loaded with trays.

"Just making sure everyone's comfortable."

Triss snorted softly. Yennefer smirked. Triss prepared to walk past her and Yennefer extended a hand to barricade her way, unconcerned with the two people waiting.

"What's the deal with Kain?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is you were eyeing him like a slab of meat at the table. Philippa told Geralt she had no interest in the boy. That the pardons would suffice."

Triss sucked in a breath, glanced down at the floor and then met Yennefer's gaze.

"Is it only you in pursuit of him?" Yennefer insisted.

"Of course not," she said, attempting her best to sound as if Yennefer had offended her, as if it was the furthest thing from her mind when she'd already tried to approach Yennefer with this once before. "He's a handsome man."

"He's with Ciri."

"Is he?"

Yennefer narrowed her eyes, itching to wrap a hand around Triss' throat. She knew the only reason he was here was because of Ciri. Was Triss really trying to pretend that she couldn't see their connection so that when the time came she could play innocent and then profusely ply Ciri with her insincere apologies – like she did Yennefer?

"Yes."

"I know they're friends but I didn't think they were… lovers."

Triss didn't seem surprised by the news making Yennefer think that maybe she'd done some spying, listened in on their conversation or picked up on Ciri's inner turmoil about the situation.

"Leave him be, Triss."

Yennefer lowered her arm, narrowed her eyes and headed down the stairs.

* * *

Kain waited for Ciri to prepare her horse, then they rode out, pulling their hoods low.

When they were out of the city gate, he said, "Use your magic and find him."

"Without Yennefer's shield?" Ciri asked, steering Kelpie through a crowd of people before giving her free reins, trying to focus on Geralt. The first thirty seconds it seemed useless, but then... a slight itch along her left palm, embedded into the curve of her lifeline. And with it came an unfamiliar certainty of the direction Geralt had gone. Similar to how she felt Kain whenever he was out of reach.

Ciri took the reins again and steered them to the right, out of the city and across one of the bridges.

Kain let her ride ahead and followed across the bridge along the river flowing alongside the village and toward the forest.

Ciri led them through the trees and into the forest, where the thick branches partially obscured the sun. They did not have to go deep. There was a small clearing up ahead. Ciri saw Roach before Geralt, greedily feasting on the grass and shrubbery along the forest floor.

* * *

They didn't make Geralt wait; he was barely five minutes off the mount before they arrived.

"Seems like here is a safer place to chat than Dandelion's inn," he said in an unnecessary explanation.

Ciri slipped off Kelpie's back and allowed her to roam.

"Something else the messenger said?"

"No, he said only what I told you: for us to come see him immediately. But I didn't want to talk within the Lodge's ears given their vigorous interest in you and your royal connections."

"He doesn't trust that invitation, either," Kain said. Geralt nodded.

"You think he means to hurt you?" Ciri asked, frowning with concern."I'm not all that interesting to Emhyr by myself," Geralt said. "I don't believe I ever have been. Nor Yennefer, for that matter. If he's calling for us, I would presume it concerns you, Ciri. But even though he probably knows we have reunited, he calls for only us two. It seems suspicious to me, is all. So I need you to be extra careful here. It would be a good idea to hide someplace else until we know what's up, but then the Lodge will get alerted. We can't afford them paying extra attention to you and your activities and whereabouts."

"We should agree upon a time to meet. And if you do not show up, we will know you are in trouble. I will come get you out," Ciri said, arms folded over her chest.

Geralt gave her an ironic look one gives one's child when she does something acutely adorable. "If I'm in trouble there, the last thing I want is you coming there or anywhere near there." He shot Kain a look, pointing a finger at him, "You are to stop her from silly steps."

"I'm not leaving you in his hands," Ciri hissed. "He has already taken my mother and my grandmother. I am not letting him take you too."

Geralt took her face in his hands, "I want you to trust me and in me, Ciri. I won't be alone - Yennefer is coming, too. And you will have to trust us to get out of it on our own. Please, just try to take care of yourself and keep your ears pricked. Maybe he wants us out of here to get to you. So I need you to be aware of that and be always aware of what is going on around you. Don't fall into any traps."

He placed a kiss on her forehead and let go.

Ciri's jaw was clenched, tight with tension. Why did Geralt never accept her help? Was she that much of a failure in his eyes?

Fealinn's words came to mind. About how Ciri needed to stay calm in these moments. Forgive them. Easier said than done.

She nodded stiffly and moved to Kelpie's side, running her fingers through her mane, trying to soothe herself with her presence.

"I understand what you mean," Kain told Geralt after casting a glance Ciri's way. "We'll try to be careful. So should you. Both of you."

"We will be," Geralt nodded. "Always. You two, try not to get into any trouble. Maybe it's unfortunate that Avallac'h left. He wouldn't side with the Lodge, and he'd still protect Ciri from any threats, including the sorceresses."

"He's not that far away, and we might not need him at all," Kain said. "We'll be fine. Take care of yourself."

"What are we supposed to do while you're away?" Ciri asked, eyes on Kelpie. "Feels like a waste of time to just sit at the inn and wait."

"What would you do with us in here?" Geralt asked. "If we still had business in the city, you'd find something to do, as well. Only when you do so, try to stay invisible. I would suggest dying your hair, but then the Lodge would know, and we don't want them to know all the tricks. If you want to go ahead and leave to Skellige right away, it might be a good idea. They are as safe as they can be at the inn, and they will remain until they find Fringilla or make sure she is dead."

Ciri would train. But that wasn't going to happen now Yennefer was leaving again.

She couldn't let Geralt know that, though. They didn't need to feel guilty about leaving.

"Right," she said. "We'll think of something."

Geralt smiled and nodded. "I know. I believe in you. I just want to make sure no one gets to you while I'm not here to cut their hands off." He looked at Roach, then up at the sky peeking through the canopy. "I better go back and get ready."

"I'm the safest one here," Ciri pointed out. "I'm water trickling between their fingers."

It was the rest she was worried about.

"I'll come with. I want to say goodbye to Yennefer."

"We'll all come," Kain corrected, hopping onto his black horse. Onyx trotted forward skirting between the trees aiming for the road. He remembered where it was.

Ciri climbed back onto Kelpie and followed Kain and Geralt out of the forest, adjusting her hood when they neared the city.

Before long they were back outside the inn. Ciri reluctantly left Kelpie with the stable hands in favor of catching Yennefer before she left.

Kain stayed downstairs at the bar counter to keep Priscilla company while she did her accounting upon serving him cider, and Geralt went upstairs to his room to get his swords and armor.

* * *

Geralt had been nowhere once Yennefer reached the dining area of the inn, nor was Kain or Ciri. Had they left together or gone their separate ways? Had Geralt done this on purpose to buy extra time? Was he really that worried about meeting with the Emperor again? Not that he remembered their first meeting or anything they'd done together.

Yennefer found Dandelion.

"I need a horse."

"I'll need silver."

"How about a horse and I don't make it so you sing like a frog until the next solstice?"

His eyes widened affronted and his touched a hand to his heart.

"You've a heart of ice."

"As I've heard in one of your more ridiculous ballads. Horse?"

He huffed, whirled on his heels, the lute protectively held to his chest as he went in search of someone to help her saddle a horse. Yennefer trailed his assigned stableman and caught Ciri as she made her way inside. Kain and Geralt must have gone in ahead of her.

"You've spoken to Geralt?"

"Yes," Ciri said, looking her over. "Are you worried?"

"Not particularly. We need our bargaining tools. Are you?"

"Considering what he attempted to do last time I saw him? Always."

"You don't trust us? That we'll be able to keep you safe from him?"

Yennefer touched a hand to the side of Ciri's face.

"I don't trust him with you," Ciri said, leaning into her touch. "I worry he will try to hurt you."

"He can try," Yennefer retorted, smiling softly, cupping Ciri's cheek. "But if it comes to it. I promise it won't let him go that far. You need us. We will be back."

"If he does, I will come for you," Ciri promised. "No matter what Geralt says."

"And what does Geralt say? For you to run? To go as far as you can and to stay safe? He's right. If for some reason something happens to us – take Kain – flee."

Yennefer didn't know him well but from what she did know she trusted he'd take care of Ciri in the same manner Geralt and Yennefer had been trying to.

"If you think I would ever leave you two behind to save myself, you don't know me at all, sorceress."

Ciri took her hand, squeezing it. "So don't put yourself in danger."

"Oh, I do know you, which is why I say – if something goes wrong – flee. We'll be too far and by the time you hear the news, it'll be too late. Don't put yourself in his hands. Don't destroy your life for us. We've lived ours."

Yennefer placed a second hand on Ciri's face and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"But know that we're not going there for a fight. It's about peace – about you – about your freedom. Nothing more, nothing less. We'll be fine."

Ciri would come for them no matter what they said. But she didn't have to convince them of that.

"Alright," she said, eyes closing when Yennefer's lips pressed to her forehead. "Be safe. And be clever."

"Always." Yennefer drew the girl against her, holding her close, inhaling her scent to try and carve it to memory. "If you need us at any point have Triss send me a message. I assume you'll be staying in Novigrad while you await our return?"

"Not sure yet. We might go to Skellige. But I will let you know."

"Please do." Yennefer released her slowly and let her enter the inn as she pleased.

The stable hand in the meantime had started to brush down a black mare.

"Geralt's inside?"

"Yes. Probably fetching his things." Ciri lowered her voice, leaning in a little. "Do you really think the sorceresses have given up on Kain?"

"No," Yennefer replied honestly. "Keep them as far away from him as possible." The only advice she could offer her.

"I will." As much as Ciri was able. Without Geralt nearby, she suspected the Lodge might attempt to take certain liberties.

Yennefer touched a hand to Ciri's shoulder and followed her inside, breaking away to head upstairs so that she could get her carry hold and cloak from Geralt's room.

Ciri remained downstairs in the main room of the inn, so she could catch Geralt and Yennefer one more time before they left, to say an official goodbye.

"Come here, Ciri," Priscilla called pouring her a cup of cider. "Sit here with us."

"Don't worry," Kain said when Ciri approached. "They'll be fine."

Ciri nodded, taking a seat next to Kain, close to his side. "Yes. They will be fine."

They had to be. She would accept no other option.

"Are _you_ going to be fine?" Priscilla asked, regarding Ciri. "Staying for another few days, then? Dandelion's performing tomorrow night."

"I'm fine," Ciri assured her with a smile. "As for staying..." She looked to Kain. "Not sure yet. I suppose we will have to see."

"We plan to stay, unless the whole group's plan changes," Kain added for the sake of any questions Dandelion or the Lodge decided to ask.

Ciri remained silent, her gaze shifting to the stairs every now and then while she sipped apple cider.

* * *

Geralt adjusted his swords belt and swept a gaze over the room to make sure he didn't forget anything important. The things that still lay around seemed to be Yennefer's.

She walked in a moment later.

"Are you ready?" Geralt asked, and smirked seeing no bags. "No phylactery this time?"

"Only if you're willing to strap it to your back," Yennefer teased. She'd never do that to him though. Not unless she really had to. She walked over to the mattress, picked up the carry hold, slipped the strap over her head and against her body and then slipped her cloak into place on her shoulders to conceal it. "Have you said all your goodbyes? What about Triss? Did you let The Lodge know that we'll be gone?"

"I didn't think about them," Geralt confessed. "I spent that time with Ciri. I guess I hoped you'd tell them."

"No. Maybe we shouldn't bother?"

Geralt shrugged and went for the door. "Maybe we shouldn't."

"Definitely not."

They'd find out eventually, especially Triss once she went looking for Geralt but at least that would buy Ciri some time to shield Kain from their influence.

When they came down, Priscilla went to give them a small satchel of snacks and a hug.

"Be careful out there," she said and stepped away to let Ciri approach.

Yennefer took the gift from Priscilla, smiling her thanks although she could have spared Yennefer the hug. She was made for Dandelion.

"Always," Yennefer said, stepping in front of Geralt to hug Ciri again, as if they hadn't been wrapped in each other a few minutes ago.

Ciri stood, wrapped her arms around Yennefer in an embrace and then did the same to Geralt, squeezing them both painfully tight.

"Be safe," Ciri whispered. "And come back to me. If not, tantrums will ensue."

Geralt held her in his tight embrace, savoring the moment, then smiled, "I'm sure Kain will take care of your tantrums."

"He's not my father," Ciri whispered. "You are."

Geralt sneered, unable to deny himself that: "He's your uncle. He'll manage."

His remark earned him a pinch - a hard one - to his upper arm as they parted from one another. "Ass."

Laughing, Geralt pulled Ciri to him and planted a kiss on her forehead, then went outside.

Roach was ready, but very reluctant to part with the feeder.

Yennefer gave Ciri one last look as she followed Geralt out, slipping the snacking goodies that Priscilla had gifted into the saddle bags, accepting the offer of help to get onto the horse from the stable hand. Once astride the mare, Yennefer gave her flanks an encouraging nudge and started away from the inn, leading the way out of town.

Ciri watched them go with a soft sigh and turned to Kain. "So, what do you reckon we should do with our day?"

Kain reflected a bit, watching the two trot down the street. "Probably the best way is to be away from the city and train in the woods."

"Without a shield?"

"I thought about it a bit," Kain said, stepping toward the stables and leaning against the post. "Dimeritium is used for making shackles for mages because it blocks their powers.

"Their powers are based on what they've learned. All of them studied elements, natural magical channels, spells and ancient words that they know have been working all those centuries. Their magic is what they have developed in themselves through discipline and special rituals.

"Your magic, however, is a part of you like the skill of breathing. If in their case dimeritium interferes with their abilities, in your case it might actually interfere with the Hunt's abilities to pinpoint your location."

Kain shrugged, folding his arms.

"In theory. A very far-fetched theory."

Ciri considered that. "I have never worn dimeritium, so I do not know the effects it will have on me. Think we can find any in the city?"

"With all the magical hysteria, there must be an abundance of amulets and rings on the market."

Ciri grinned, pleased at last to have something to do. "Then let us go shopping."

"Fine," he sighed and followed her perky pace.

Those merchants will remember her hair, Kain reflected as they followed the street down to the Market Place.

The market place was filled with various boots and stands, most of which had probably been there since early morning. There were vegetables and meat being sold, as well as fabrics, decorations for the home, and craftsmanship.

Ciri and Kain were far from the only ones out and about and it was easy to vanish into the crowds.

There were many traders yelling about special amulets to protect from evil magicians, but none withstood a closer inspection.

"They're fake," Kain whispered into Ciri's ear. "Which is understandable. The real thing is expensive and comes mostly from Kovir and Povis."

"So where do we find the genuine artifacts?" Ciri asked, adjusting her hood.

"From those who know what magic is and how it works. I'm sure my friend can point you in the right direction."

"Fealinn?" Ciri maneuvered past a group of housewives and joined with Kain again. "Do you think there are even any magicians left in town?"

Kain looked at her with an ironic raise of an eyebrow, "Yes, and your friend's inn is one of such places. It's not easy to leave a city when everybody is under scrutiny."

"But even less will admit to use of magic or to be in possessions of magical items. And I'd rather not include The Lodge in this. The more favors I owe them, the worse off I'll be."

"Don't worry. She is going to find what we need with no problem. And no one will know."

"Alright," Ciri said, steering them towards one of the city gates and bridges again.

They were outside Fealinn's door within thirty minutes.


	33. Chapter 33

Kain's fist hovered at Fealinn's door, then lowered back down.

"She's busy, we better come later, at dusk."

Kain and Ciri strolled away from her hut in a slow undecided pace.

"We can just go into the woods and practice something simple. Whatever you want."

"I don't know," Ciri admitted. "I don't know where to start. What would you suggest – as a basic skill?"

He thought about it a bit as they walked along the river. It babbled lively, glistening in the sun.

"When the druids were teaching me, they started with the world's power, its life force and magic flowing through the nature around. Rivers, trees, stones, soil, winds - everything there is. Once I could feel it, they taught me to connect with it.

"The sorcerers do that to gain magic for spells - they draw from elements. But unlike them, I draw power from nature to mix with mine, to make it stronger when necessary, like in the battle at Kaer Morhen."

Ciri frowned, looking at him. "You have Elder Blood. Is that not powerful enough?"

Kain frowned back with subtle annoyance. "I'm not a god. Nor have I ever thought about myself as Elder Blood."

"I never said you were – nor that I am. But if we are supposed to possess such amazing power, I wonder why it needs to be enhanced. Is that part of the prophecies, you think?" Avallac'h had never said how The Swallow would stop The White Frost. It was possible enhancements needed to be made.

"No one ever told me - nor probably knew - about it, and I've been trained like an average druid. That's why I do what I do."

Kain observed the blooming orchards they were passing through.

"You do possess a great power, Ciri, but do you really believe it's endless? Your body can only express so much, and when it's you against an army - you know what I mean, do you not?"

"I do," Ciri said. "I suppose that's why it's unlikely I will emerge from this White Frost thing alive."

Kain winced, "You're not going into any White Frost, Ciri. Geralt won't let you, and I'll back him up."

"That's not really either of your decision," Ciri said calmly. "I am not saying I will jump head-first into a portal with no more information from Avallac'h. But if he does provide it and a good plan on how to stop it, how can I not if there is the slightest chance I could save this world and every other?"

"And you will believe his plans? How does he even know what this thing is? I've seen it, felt it - it's a never ending blizzard with winds so cold you can die within minutes, Elder Blood or not. I don't see how any of those Aen Elle can know anything about how to stop a force of nature."

"They were the ones to prophesy it and it came true. They have been researching for centuries. If anyone knows, it would be them."

"If they knew anything for certain, they'd have dealt with it already. They haven't, even though there were Elder Blood among them. I find it odd that all the hope now is placed on you. More like, they want to throw you at this thing like a sacrificial goat and see if it changes anything."

"The earlier carriers of Elder Blood were not meant to stop it. The prophecy says those who follow The Swallow will survive." Ciri shrugged. "If there is a chance, and The Frost is coming either way, I might as well be used as a sacrifice. We'll all die anyway."

"We're not dead until we are, Ciri. There is no certainty in any prophecy or any future. There is now, and only now defines what happens."

"But sometimes we have to make choices now to affect the future," Ciri argued, then paused. "Well, not now. But when it happens. Should it happen. You know what I mean."

Kain sighed, stopping in his tracks, and turned to her. "I don't know what happens in the future, but I do know that if I live, you're not going to face any Frosts on your own. Because you don't have to."

That was oddly touching. Ciri did not want him to die, of course, but if she was truly the only one who could stop the Frost like the prophecy said and she failed, everyone would die as well.

She took his hand in hers and squeezed it, unable to really find the words she wanted to speak, and pulled him with her deeper into the forest.

They wandered around the forest for a while, enjoying the quiet of it compared to the city. The birds sang, the insects buzzed, the leaves shuffled and whispered in the wind above them, among the canopy.

Griffin found them and bounced around Kain happily. His beak still bore the reddish smears of his breakfast.

He sniffed Ciri suspiciously, then lost interest (probably having recognized her) and trotted to the side to hunt rabbits.

"So?" Ciri said once the griffin bounded away. "How do I connect with nature like you do? Through meditation?"

Kain shrugged his shoulders with a cunning smile and settled down beneath a tree.

"Has anyone ever tried to teach you traditional magic?"

"Yes. Yennefer did for the year I was with her. But… I don't remember much. Or rather, I am very out of practice. I have only used one spell since then. For a while I thought my magic had left me."

"From what I heard of how the mages learn, she might have tried to teach you how to locate the places where you can draw the force from. That, or she tried to teach you how to draw from elements. It depends on the elements, then, how hard or dangerous it can be.

"I don't ask you to draw anything from anywhere. I want you to close your eyes, focus within yourself, locate the power heart within you, its spirit, its flow, like the flame on a candle, and then reach out and seek for such heart in the nature around you. Listen for it, find where the flow is most prominent for your senses."

Ciri closed her eyes and tried to remember everything that Yennefer had taught her back in the day while incorporating what Kain was telling her.

It wasn't hard to sense her own power. It was always there. Always right on the surface. Waiting.

But Ciri hadn't tried to search for a place of power for a long time. It was sure to be more complicated.

Her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she reached out with one hand, as if that would help her locate the right direction. Hot and cold. Silence and vibration.

With her eyes still closed, she began to walk.

Kain watched with interest, leaning against the trunk, hands folded on his stomach.

She was doing quite well, and he wondered if it was her own talent or if Yennefer had built a good base whenever she had trained the girl. It didn't look like Ciri was doing it for the first time. She was definitely remembering her way with magic.

Ciri followed her instinct, or her magic, whatever it was leading her to a place of power. She didn't open her eyes until she reached it and upon opening them, Ciri noticed she was face to face with a tree. A slightly withered and sickly looking tree.

She turned to look at Kain over her shoulder, uncertain.

Kain met her gaze with a humorous glint in his eye. "What do you feel you've found there, princess?"

"A hotspot," Ciri said, one hand still hovering above said spot. "A vein that is easy to draw from."

"Great. Now, what kind of vein is that?" Kain gestured at the tree beside her.

Ciri hesitated, looking back at the tree. "What do you mean? The element?"

Kain smiled wider. "What do you think I mean? What does that look like to you? Unless you can't tell me what it feels like, that hotspot."

Ciri was uncertain again and feeling uncomfortable, like this was something she should have mastered long ago, only she was too dense to have been able.

She inhaled sneakily, testing her words. "I feel… the cold soil and the water, the worms and beetles slithering over roots, burrowing. I feel the vibration of animals stepping on the forest floor and the warmth of the sun on the trees tallest branches. I… I don't know what else."

Kain couldn't help it and burst out laughing. "If you were training for a poet, we'd be done here."

Ciri glared at him. "You asked me what it felt like. I answered. What more do you want?"

"I asked you about the force you've found - what it feels like. Not what the entire forest feels like to you. Don't describe it to me - tell me what that energy feels like."

"Cold," Ciri said after a few seconds of contemplation. "Like plunging my hand into icy water. But… without the pain."

"All right. Look at the tree. It clearly feeds on that force. Would you want to draw from it?"

"No," Ciri said immediately. "The tree is dying."

"Good. Very nice. Try to find a better spot."

Ciri closed her eyes again and refocused, still for a few moments before she felt the pull of something else.

She followed it and came to a large moss-covered rock.

"Better," she called to Kain. "It feels warm and… rejuvenating."

She looked at the small white flowers blooming from the green moss, taking a second to admire them.

"Good place to start, then," Kain said. "Reach out to it with your power, connect to it, make yourself familiar with it and let it share with you if you feel like it."

Ciri inhaled and closed her eyes again, nervous. She had not had good experiences with this as a child. But surely it was different now?

It wasn't. It still hurt. A dull ache at first that grew more and more intense the longer she connected with the power. She winced but forced herself not to make a sound. She was better at handling pain now, even when it scared her, even when it made her fingers tremble.

Something was clearly wrong. Kain couldn't quite understand what, but something was.

"What are you doing to get that pain? It's not supposed to happen."

"Yennefer said it was," Ciri breathed, trying not to lose her focus. "That I just have to overcome it. It was like this before as well."

Kain stood up and walked to her, gently taking her by an arm. "Stop it, stop. It's not right."

He stood behind her, his hand came to hover in front of her stomach, close but not touching, healing the pain. It wasn't serious, but it could have been if she had been practicing that all those years.

"Did she teach you that? It can only mean she was taught it. And that is probably how all sorceresses do it.

"Come here, sit down with me and relax, rest.

"Do you know what pain is, Ciri? When there is no wound, why does something hurt?"

Ciri sat, legs folded in front of her. "An indication something is wrong within the body?" she ventured. "Or… memories. Emotions."

"Most common reason is resistance. It creates a disbalance, and then pain. If you hurt and you concentrate on that pain and try to fight it, it hurts more because you're resisting.

"It hurts for sorceresses to draw from nature because they do it forcefully while it resists. They take something that doesn't belong to them.

"For no pain, there should be mutual acceptance, no resistance, connection, you see?

"This is why I ask you to find a way to connect to nature, because it is your body's creator. Your body is made from what this world is made of. You have that in common. This world bears you on its surface, feeds you and nurtures you. Once you accept that connection and find it within yourself - the love and gratitude and the mother-child relationship there has to be - then it will share its power abundantly and with no pain like it befits to a mother giving her love to a child.

"Do you understand?"

Ciri nodded. "In theory. How to make it all happen feels more difficult."

She let her hands rest at her sides, gently burying her fingers in the blades of grass beneath her.

Kain said: "If you want to get a response from someone or something - start within yourself.

"You want love from your world - offer yours first. Like you've met your mother. What would you feel for her? Offer it to your earth."

Ciri's mother. The first image to come to mind was that of Pavetta. Ciri was not even certain her memory of Pavetta was real or something fabricated by seeing paintings and sketches. And she wanted to feel love for her, she did… But she felt no connection. The most Ciri could feel for her was pity.

Then her image cleared and Yennefer sprang forth. There Ciri felt love in abundance. That warm kind of comfort that made her body relax, her heart flutter, and could easily bring tears of joy to her eyes.

She tried to let those emotions seep into the earth through her fingers, imagining the world to be Yennefer's soul.

Kain caught an image of Yennefer with ease - it wafted about Ciri like a perfume.

"You've met many people in your travels and before," he spoke in a soft tone to not yank her from her meditation, but rather to direct it. "And you have known a similar kind of love. But with each of those people you have built a love unlike the others.

"Try to connect with the world, with your Mother Nature without putting a face to it. It will have its own once you find that. Remember Freya's Garden. Freya was not the one I was trying to help. And Freya was not the only one who helped me after it.

"It is that Mother that you need to find your way to. She's all around you everywhere from day one of your life. Every tree, berry, animal, river - everything you have ever seen and touched upon this earth is Her. You must feel something. Just let Her know how you feel."

Yennefer's face faded upon hearing Kain's words and was replaced with what Ciri imagined the goddess Freya to look like: golden hair, bright blue eyes, fair skin… But even she faded as they moved on. The face became rounder, wrinkled but beautiful, the eyes brown like earth and skin in a sheen of green. It was not a face Ciri had seen before. But it was kind. Warm. With undertones of merciless rage if needed.

Ciri did not feel afraid. She felt comforted in Her presence. Safe. And Ciri tried to let her know. Tried to share with her those feelings, to make her experience the same as Ciri.

A slow, satisfied smile claimed Kain's lips: she was getting there.

Ciri remained in that state for quite some time before she cautiously started drawing from the power she felt, feeding some of her own back in an exchange. All around them the budded flowers of the forest opened their petals, extending towards the warming sunlight that shone down upon them.

Unlike the time in the Korath desert, this energy felt clean and safe, and, though intoxicating, Ciri was still in control of herself. There were no other voices in Ciri's head than her own.

Now there seemed to be nothing wrong with her exchange, and Kain enjoyed the view without interrupting. It was important for her to fully learn how it was supposed to happen.

Ciri ended it after a while, slowly opening her eyes to look at him as if for confirmation she had done alright.

Kain smiled subtly, "I guess it didn't hurt this time?"

Ciri shook her head no. "It was soothing."

"Means you've done it right. It's very good. Now you know how you could heal yourself when you need to and there are no temples or mages around. Because She is everywhere."

Ciri smiled, eyeing the newly bloomed flowers. "Yes, I imagine I could in a pinch. Thank you."

"I did nothing. You did all the work."

"You guided me. Stop making yourself seem so unimportant."

"I'm not making anything - I'm stating facts. You have done well with the instructions. You're a quick learner."

"Glad to see some things are still the same," Ciri smiled.

Kain leaned back against the tree, peering at her with a small smile. "You've earned a break for whatever else you want to do." He glanced up at the sky. "We have a few hours before dusk."

Ciri swallowed, hesitant and uncertain. "There are some scars," she said. "On my back. Will you help me heal them?"

"I can help with physical healing," Kain nodded. "But when it comes to scars, you have to know some things: the difficulty of healing them depends on how deep an impact they have made on your soul. Simply put, you can successfully heal a scar if you succeed in healing it in your mind and soul. You understand?"

"How can I do that when they are constant physical reminders?"

"Sometimes the emotional scar is so deep that removing the physical one doesn't heal the emotional one. And if you're unable to let go of that emotional pain, the physical reminder might come back."

Ciri was silent, watching her hands in her lap before she finally looked up at him again. "Can we try?"

"Of course," Kain got up onto his knees, sitting back on his haunches. "I merely warned you to try and let it go while you feel your body heal." He beckoned her with a wiggle of his fingers. "Come here. Sit down with your back to me."

Ciri shifted towards him and settled with her back to him, hands resting on the ground on either side of her. She was nervous, very much so, and it had nothing to do with Kain. "Do I need to remove my shirt?"

"It's up to you, but for me it's not necessary." Kain rubbed his palms, urging the magic flow. "Close your eyes and recall how you got those scars. I'm sure it's not hard to remember - the easiest part. When you do that, reach for Mother Nature, ask for her help and healing, and then imagine how the wounds that gave you the scars leave none this time. Remember the blows, but see how they leave no scars. And let those marks go."

He held his hands at her back, trying to sense the exact thing he had to heal.

"You ready?"

Ciri nodded. "Yes."

Was she really? Could she do what he asked?

Ciri closed her eyes and easily conjured up the familiar memories of Bonhart whipping her raw, over and over again. She remembered her back and buttocks wet with blood, numb, while simultaneously feeling as though every nerve was on fire.

She remembered the scent of Bonhart's sweat, the hungry gleam in his eyes whenever he managed to beat a cry out of her, and how he'd watch her after, while she was curled in on herself on the floor. Trembling. Naked. Vulnerable.

She hated him so much. And hated herself even more. For crying. For not being able to fight him off. For being at his mercy.

Ciri's fingers dug into the earth, her breathing shallow and erratic as if it was happening all over again.

"I'm failing," she whispered. "Let me try again."

While Kain's magic began to gather in his hands, something in Ciri was still resisting. Some unbidden images seeped into Kain's mind, flashing in front of his eyes.

Her admission explained it.

"It's in the past, Ciri," he murmured in almost a whisper. "It can't hurt you anymore."

"He's dead," Ciri told herself. "I killed him. I killed him."

Her eyes remained closed and she tried to start over again, imagining the lashes of the whip but this time pretending there was no pain. No marks left behind. Like his whip had been as soft and harmless as a string of yarn.

Kain closed his eyes, as well, to get a better focus for the both of them, and felt the power flow through his hands toward her. Reluctantly at first and stronger later.

Though he was not touching her, Ciri's back felt warm and pleasantly tingly. Something was happening. Something good, she hoped.

She continued the silent mantra, hoping it was enough to help Kain along.

At some point, Kain felt the healing had been done, and the flow got slower and more reluctant.

He gradually withdrew his hands and waited for her to come back from her trance on her own.

"Did it work?" Ciri breathed after a while, reaching behind her and beneath the hem of her shirt to feel the skin there.

Kain smirked to himself. "I don't see through things. You tell me."

She felt along her spine, up towards her shoulders and down towards her tailbone. The skin was smooth. No roughness or welts. He'd done it.

There were tears in Ciri's eyes and she blinked them away, trying to still her racing heart. It felt like a massive weight had just been lifted off her shoulders. It felt like she had finally beaten the son of a whore called Bonhart.

She stilled, her hand frozen on her back beneath the clothes.

Kain quietly got up to his feet and stepped from one to another, getting the blood flowing, giving her a moment as he strolled a few steps away.

Ciri smiled. She couldn't stop smiling. "I want to go swimming," she said, looking up at him before getting to her feet, twirling on the spot to navigate where the nearest body of water was.

Griffin trotted from the woods and stopped as Ciri went past him, his ears pricking curiously. He and Kain followed her; Kain was also curious – whether she would locate what she wanted quickly enough. After all, she now knew how.

It wasn't the mote around the city Ciri led them to but a small lake deeper among the trees and rocks.

A deer was drinking when they arrived, its neck bent. But the moment it sensed them coming it took off running. They were alone.

Ciri removed her boots, bare feet pressing down on the forest ground as she shed her coat as well.

Griffin stared after the escaping deer with interest, but didn't chase. He'd had his meal, and now merely approached the lake to drink.

Kain stopped at the water, toeing off his boots and unbuckling the belts on his jerkin.

Ciri undressed entirely, for the first time in years unmindful of her own nudity. She did not linger on shore, instead making her way out into the shallow water, seeking the deeper parts where she could be submerged entirely.

It was still chilly, but not nearly as bad as it had been on Skellige. Ciri swam, turned to check on Kain's progress and immediately averted her gaze again, attempting to give him whatever privacy she could offer in this situation.

Kain discarded his clothes in a pile on the grass and went into the water. It bit his skin with cold, immediately seeping the chill into his bones. He dipped his hands into the water as he went deeper, concentrating for a moment to regain control of his inner power and pour some heat into the water around him. Soon enough his muscles began to relax the warmer the lake was getting against his skin. He dipped quickly, surfaced and brushed the water out of his eyes, and swam languidly, casting a glance at Ciri.

Ciri smiled at him, though she was not sure he could see, the lower part of her face concealed by water as she swam a large circle around him.

"Griffin doesn't share your affinity for water?" she called after a while, eyeing the beast on the shore where he was watching them.

"He's not fond of water in his wings, but he still splashes around at times - keeping the wings open high."

Ciri swam closer to Kain, smiling impishly. "Do you think he likes me?"

Kain threw a glance Griffin's way. "He knows you. Recognizes you. As for liking, I guess he's undecided."

"Hm, I suppose that will have to suffice for now. Perhaps he is wary of my intentions."

"He feels you don't intend to harm him or me, but his acceptance of your presence means neutrality. Animals like you for things you do for them or because of how they feel in your presence."

"I'll take it," Ciri said. She'd once read in one of Triss' romance novels that the young dapper man who had pursued his beautiful lady, needed to gain the approval of her family and friends in order to strengthen their relationship. She wasn't sure the Griffin could ever give his blessing, but the fact he wasn't trying to scratch her eyes out seemed like acceptance enough for now.

Kain smiled, "He might decide to like you yet."

"I hope so. I'd like to be in your life, and thereby his, for quite some time to come."

Was that one of the things she said that scared him? But how could he not consider that himself now he knew he had a brother?

It amused Kain. "Looking to live in caves and forests?"

"If that's where you take me, I suppose so." Ciri said, dipping under the surface of the water and emerging a few meters up ahead, sweeping her hair from her face.

Kain let out a humorous hem and swam for the shore.

Ciri stayed in a bit longer, swimming one more small round before joining him on shore.

Kain collected some firewood and made a small campfire while she was getting dressed. Griffin immediately settled down next to it and began to clean his feathers.

Ciri dressed and lay down on one of the flat rocks beside his campfire, letting the sun and the flames warm and dry her off. "How many days should we give it before we start to worry about Geralt and Yennefer?"

Kain sighed. "We can start worrying as soon as they arrive to the palace."

"We won't know," she said, examining her lifeline and remembering how it had bled when Geralt died years and years ago. "We won't know if they've even made it to the palace."

Kain looked up at the sky. "They'll be there after sunset."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I know where the palace is. A day's ride from here."

"I am not talking about time," Ciri said, glancing over at him. "We do not know what Emhyr has planned. There could be an ambush on the way." She would not be surprised.

Kain winced in doubt. "Ambush is for Scoia'tael and bandits, but he's a ruler. He summoned them to have them in his control, under his roof and rules."

"He's a trickster and liar." Ciri rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. "Nothing about him can be trusted."

Kain chuckled softly, "Are you talking about the Emperor or Avallac'h?"

"The Emperor. Why? You think Avallac'h wishes them harm as well?"

"No one knows what Avallac'h wishes. Aside from controlling you."

"Well, in this instance, he is not the controlling man I worry about."

"Stop worrying until you know," Kain advised. "No use worrying over suspicions."

Ciri sighed and groaned. "They're more than suspicions. Last time I met Emhyr, he somehow managed to convince both Geralt and Yennefer to commit suicide. I'd be a fool not to worry."

Kain frowned, simultaneously confused and disbelieving. "How did he manage to do that?"

"I don't know. He and Geralt went off to talk privately and when they returned, I was told I was to go with the Emperor, while Yennefer and Geralt would slit their wrists in a bath.

"And they were going to. But Emhyr changed his mind and let me go. So I returned to them."

Kain stared at her, utterly perplexed. "Sounds crazy. You were told that they would kill themselves? For what?"

"I was not told anything. Other than that I would never see them again. But it was not hard to put two and two together when I returned and found them in the bath calling out to be given razors from Emhyr's men." Ciri shrugged. "We were all fairly beaten up at that time. Emhyr had come upon us right after a battle with mages and bounty hunters. And he had an army at his disposal. I doubt we would have been able to even make a dent in them at that point. Perhaps suicide seemed the more pleasant option. At least then Geralt and Yennefer got to say goodbye.

"They knew Emhyr's true identity. He would not have let them live were I to go with him."

Kain thought about it, watching the fire grimly. "Why did he change his mind?"

Ciri shrugged again. "I don't know. Fifteen minutes after we set off, he simply embraced me and told me goodbye. Let me go. Maybe he just could not stand me crying. I've been told men do not like it."

Kain shrugged languidly. "Maybe he simply remembered that he was your father. If that is so, there's still hope for him."

Ciri's smile was cynical. "I doubt he ever forgot. Even when he declared he was going to marry me."

"One thing is to declare things," Kain mused, "and another one is meaning it while looking into your eyes while you cry."

"Perhaps. Doesn't mean I forgive him. Doesn't mean it is forgotten."

"It doesn't need to be forgotten. But forgiveness is not for him alone, as you think. Forgiving is for you, as well. To free you from that pain, from the scar you still nurture."

"I don't know how to do that. I'm not sure I am kind enough."

Kain leaned back onto his elbows, watching the fire. "It's not really about kindness as much. Imagine what this grudge is - he is keeping your prisoner with the things he's done to you. And when you choose to forgive, you cut that tie. You free yourself. You let it go, and he has no emotional power over you, anymore."

"You make it sound so easy…"

Kain shook his head once. "Maybe it depends on the motivation. If you want to be free of it, you will find a way to make it happen."

"Has there ever been anyone you had to forgive?"

"Instructors at the school, felines, dryads, even my mother who made us be apart. There's always someone to forgive. Not as much when you're alone in the woods, though."

"And you managed to forgive them all? Just like that?"

"I understand where they are coming from, and understanding allows me to let it go. I don't like to judge other people's choices. I have my own to worry about."

"Well, I don't understand. I don't understand those who are needlessly cruel."

Ciri slipped off the rock she'd been inhabiting and came closer to the fire.

"Everybody has their reasons," Kain said. "Even if you don't understand Emhyr, his reasons make sense to him. Your reasons make sense to you while they might puzzle someone else."

"I think I am too angry to forgive. I have been told I am a very angry person. Too angry."

She held her hands over the fire to warmth them.

"And I know why he did what he did. But it justifies nothing." She was silent a moment. "Should we train some more? Try something else?"

Kain could understand where anger was rooted, but it wasn't something she could resolve within minutes. Not even if she wanted to.

He addressed her question. "We can do whatever you want. There's still an hour or two before the sun sets."

"When in training with Yennefer, she forbade me from drawing power from fire. She said it was dangerous. Have you any experience with it?"

"I haven't drawn from anything but the nature - however, it contains all elements. So you could say I've drawn from all of them at once.

"Fire is whimsical and can be dangerous, so she was right to warn you."

Ciri nodded. "I only tried it once. I am unlikely to do so again."

"An unfortunate attempt?"

"I succeeded in what I set out to do - healing that unicorn foal. But the power was… intoxicating. And not in the good way. It made me arrogant and cocky, and there were tempting voices and horrible visions in my head. Visions of what I could do should I choose to. Death and destruction."

Kain nodded shrewdly, "There are different kinds of magic, and there is always a choice. Mages like Yennefer and the Lodge mostly use the dark kinds. What I've been taught is the white kind. In both ways, there is a price. For dark magic it's possible self-harm, corruption, temptations and addiction to power when they want more and more. For white it's the harm that comes for using any dark magic and drawing from any dark sources, repercussions from any wrong use of power."

"Do you use dark magic? Have you recently?"

"I don't use it. Given my life up to this point, I didn't have to."

"How can you tell the difference between the two?" Ciri asked, curious. "Is white magic always healing?"

"With white magic you work through love and gratitude while serving as a conduit. Black mages work through their selfish desires and aiming to be a source, so they constantly search for ways to become more powerful.

"In simpler terms, a white mage is a part of whole, a conduit to power he requests for certain purposes - healing or defense. A black magician wants to be a standalone source, as powerful as can be, getting more and more addicted to power."

Ciri swallowed, brow furrowed in slight concern. "And if the power comes from within? Like with us? Does it make us selfish?"

"Your body is made by the elements of this world, and its ability to generate power is not something you have earned. It is due to how your genes have been combined. So what is there to be selfish about? How you use the power given to you defines you - because it's the only thing you can actually influence and be selfish about."

That made sense and made Ciri feel more at ease. She was aware her questions sounded like those of a child, but Kain was the only mage other than Yennefer, and the reluctant Avallac'h, that she had been able to have such conversations with, and she wanted to know his view on it all. "You said sorceresses often work with dark magic. Do you think that makes Yennefer a bad person?"

Kain smiled a little, amused. "I don't think I have ever encountered a person thoroughly bad or good. Extremes are rare or nonexistent in nature when it comes to character. No one is fully good or bad, white or black, it's more of shades of grey.

"Yennefer is a mix, like anyone else. Like you and me. She is capable of good and bad deeds and her choices define her."

It was strange to consider Yennefer anything other than good. Her presence always filled Ciri with warmth and comfort. But Ciri doubted it was like that for everyone.

"When I was younger I wanted to be exactly like her. So beautiful and powerful she could silence a whole room just by entering."

"It's a great quality for a queen. For a sorcerer – only until a certain moment when the tables turn and magic is outlawed again. Then she's a target and everyone knows her as soon as she passes by on the street.

"I've been as recognizable as a witcher, but I never enjoyed attention. I prefer to be invisible - so I see and hear more."

"I don't think she enjoys it either," Ciri admitted. "She has a lot of sadness in her. She just refuses to let anyone see. Even me."

"She made her choice in becoming a mage," Kain reasoned. "She chose her image and how she would be perceived. In some instances, or places, it's better to be known and feared, in others it's best to stay hidden. It all depends on choice. There are sorceresses anyone has barely seen, like my mother, and there are those like the Lodge - every face known by many."

"Yennefer was never truly treated as a member of The Lodge, I think. I'm not sure if that is a good or bad thing."

"The Lodge is not the only group of known faces. A mage can be known on his or her own. And then it's even more dangerous because the said mage is alone with no one to offer protection or aid."

"Well, she has me and Geralt now," Ciri said. "If he regains his memory of her at least."

"How come he lost it?"

"Years and years back, before they met me, Geralt and Yennefer fought a djinn. Somehow Geralt made a wish that protected them both from said djinn and bound their fates together.

"When we were last in Skellige, it turns out Geralt and Yennefer tracked down another djinn to have that wish broken. Yennefer wanted to know whether their feelings for one another were real or just forced because of that first djinn. They managed, I believed, but Geralt lost his memory of her in the process."

Kain curved his lips in a sad smile. "Djinns are instruments of chaos, their magic is unpredictable like they are, and making wishes is a very dangerous business - they can turn out completely different from what a person wished.

"This unfortunate turn is not surprising. If Yennefer was the one to make that last wish, this side effect has to be a price, like a punishment for using such magic."

"Do you think it can be broken? Or is all of Geralt's memories of us as a family lost?"

"There is no way of knowing that," Kain looked at her sympathetically. "I would guess it's down to what she wished for, exactly. If that love was real, it would come through, and if not - it wouldn't."

"I suppose I will just have to continue to be hopeful. Be a shame to finally get my family back only to realize it is broken."

Kain stared into the fire pensively. "It only means it was broken to begin with - because Yennefer didn't trust what she had. It drove her to risk it all, throw the dice for all or nothing. Love is a gift, and any disregard for gifts has a price."

"Everything has been broken for a while," Ciri commented, trailing a finger along the ground, idly drawing in the dirt. "It's a childish dream to want your parents together. But I cannot help it."

"It's hard to love someone who's not ready to love," Kain murmured wistfully.

Ciri glanced over, feeling he was assessing himself more than her at this point. "We'll see."

"Has she told you why she doubted his feelings? What drove her to make that second wish?"

"I don't think she doubted his feelings; I think she doubted her own.'

"She wasn't ready to love and thus sought a way out - a justified way out. And then she got it, but not in the way she liked. It's a harsh justice."

"Yes. I am just grateful he did not forget me as well. Not sure I would be able to handle it."

"You're his Surprise Child, he couldn't forget you."

"He forgot the love of his life," Ciri pointed out, getting to her feet. "Shall we go see Fealinn?"

Kain looked at the sky; it was showing more pink and orange the lower the sun was getting.

"If we don't move too fast, we might get there in time."

"Let's put out the fire then," Ciri said, eyeing him curiously. "Can you do it by magic?"

Kain raised a hand and a sphere of water floated up above the lake surface and toward the campfire. It flopped down on it and dowsed the flame.

"Unnecessary," he smirked, "but since you wanted to know."

"Impressive," Ciri grinned, shaking her damp hair free from her shirt-collar and starting back the way they'd come.

Kain pulled on his hood and went after her, picking his way between the trees.

"Have you and Fealinn ever been, you know, together?"

Kain cast a gander at Ciri, mildly amused by the question.

"No. Not for the lack of temptation, rather because we never had time or chance. We never spent time together in Brokilon, and outside of it we met sometimes by chance when our missions crossed. Both pretending to be strangers."

Ciri nodded. "Will you now that there might be time?"

"I don't plan such things."

"Oh." The better question would have been Do you want to? But it felt too bold. Too demanding.

She couldn't quite forget Yennefer's words about how he might fancy another. Fealinn, more specifically. And Ciri did not know how to compete with such a sensual, beautiful creature. Or even if she should compete if Yennefer was right. It seemed selfish to do so.

She walked in silence, deep in thought.

"It's not what you wanted to ask, I assume," Kain said after a bit.

"I ask what I shouldn't. It's none of my business."

"If it's anything that would worry your thoughts later on, better ask and be done with it."

"Even if it is entirely obnoxious and will most likely make you either uncomfortable or angry? Possibly both?"

Kain gave her a doubtful look. "Angry? Is it that bad? I'm intrigued."

"Do you want her? Fealinn?"

Kain took a moment to give it a short thought.

"Physically, I should admit to certain moments when I wouldn't mind that development. Even emotionally, she presents certain comfort because she knows me well, and I know her, there is the needed familiarity and friendship in place.

"But I know our paths are too different. We wouldn't stay together. And that lessens the meaning and sense of the act."

"She is beautiful," Ciri admitted. "And undoubtedly skilled if she can bring pleasure without even touching a man where he wants to be touched. And she seems to understand you. It would not be strange if the two of you found one another."

"She is my friend," Kain said. "We don't have to be intimately close to bring comfort to one another."

"I know. It is just… with perfect women like her, like the sorceresses, what chance do the rest of us have?" Ciri nudged his shoulder with hers to let him know she was jesting. A little.

Smiling, Kain observed her with interest. "What do you deem as perfection that makes a woman such? Magic? Glamour spells?"

Ciri shrugged. "They always know what to say, what to do. I never know."

"But you do find things to say and do. So why do you belittle yourself so?"

"Do I?" Ciri laughed a little. "Not the things a man wants to hear, surely? If Yennefer was here now, she would be cringing."

"What do you imagine a man wants to hear?"

"I don't know. Something enticing?"

Kain restrained a smile, looking totally serious. "Like what?"

"If I knew that, I would be one of the enticing ones," she laughed.

"You probably have at least some ideas, otherwise you wouldn't have stated that other people do it better than you. For... how would you know, then? Right?"

"Mostly from watching Triss. She's not exactly subtle."

Ciri paused and placed a hand on his arm, smiling coyly and pressing her breast against him in a playful imitation of Triss.

"Oh, Geralt! You are my hero!"

Kain laughed. "That's way too obvious to be enticing. However, for some men it works like a charm. Those you usually locate in taverns, tipsy and ready to be a hero in someone's eyes."

"I haven't been able to learn from anyone else. Yennefer and Geralt never courted in front of me. Also, I think their kind of enticement is… different. They fight a lot."

"If they fight, it's no courting. It's fighting."

"They fight and fuck, then repeat it all over again. They think I don't notice, but I have. Of course, it could have changed since I was away."

Kain reflected on it a moment, then shook his head. "I don't imagine love like that. What you describe is a circle of lust based on emotions."

"Perhaps. I would not know. I have never been in love before."

"Before..?"

"I… I mean I have not been in love. I have felt lust. And intrigue. Maybe even infatuation. Not sure I have known love."

"It's good that you can tell," Kain remarked, eyeing the orchards ahead blooming beneath the darkening sky.

"What do you mean?"

"Tell the difference between all those variations. Infatuation and lust and love."

"I suppose that is an advantage. Might keep me from getting hurt in the long run."

Kain looked up at the apple tree they walked under and flicked his wrist, knocking an apple, then another from the top of the canopy, and caught them in his hands. He offered one to Ciri and bit into the other. It was firm and juicy, not overly ripe, just as he liked them.

"Thank you, Archer," Ciri grinned, biting into her own apple as they walked. "So many tricks up your sleeve."

"Still the same you saw many times."

"Doesn't get old. One day I will be able to do the same."

You can do it right now. You just do not."

"We need the chains," she reminded him. "Just in case."

"I think you put too much confidence into the Hunt's abilities of tracking you. Even if they know where you could be, they're not all that quick to travel. Not in big packs. And we can deal with small ones. One after another. Until it makes such a dent in his forces that his people - those Aen Elle he presumably rules - notice it and put a stop to his dismissal of their lives over one impure-blood girl."

Ciri winced. "Impure-blood girl? Ouch."

"It's what Aen Elle see you as - a dirty blood, a human. Same as me. We are unworthy of a second glance in their eyes."

"Yes, they told me as much when I was with them. Reminded me often. Even as they ordered me to give them a child."

"If so, we have a good chance of them realizing that their own lives are more precious than trying to come after us."

Kain raised his hand to knock, but Fealinn opened the door and smiled at them.

"I'm aware you had to wait," she said, stepping aside to let them in. "I apologize."

"Fealinn," Ciri said with a smile, throwing the apple core away. A neighboring goat quickly ran to claim it. "You have nothing to apologize for. We came unannounced."

"Oh, but you were... um, your presence was clear enough for me to sense," she said, closing the door behind them and turning to face them, looking from one to another. "What brings you? Ciri would like another massage?"

"No. Not that it wasn't excellent," Ciri hurried to say, shooting a glance at Kain. "But we are here for a different reason. We need dimeritium cuffs. Do you know of anyone who would be able to provide any?"

"Not specifically cuffs, though," Kain corrected. "An amulet or a ring or a bracelet would do. Better two bracelets."

Fealinn frowned in mild confusion. "Why?"

"We want to try and mask her power while she trains," Kain said. "Because of the Hunt."

"Oh." She looked at Ciri thoughtfully. "Strange idea, but maybe... Who knows, it might even work, given your power.

"Well, I do not have it, but I do know where to ask. If you would come back, say, tomorrow night, I will tell you the answer."

Ciri tilted her head, curious. "You know, but will not tell us until tomorrow?"

"I should find out whether the person I have in mind has any," Fealinn said. "Dimeritium is mostly being bought by Nilfgaard. And now by Eternal Fire cult right here in Novigrad. Though their slice of that pie is significantly smaller."

"We understand," Kain said. "Thank you."

"Thank me when I have an actual information," she responded. "Can I get you some cider and a chicken pie? One of my clients brought it today - my sessions helped with her spine. She baked me a huge chicken pie. Will you have a supper with me?"

Ciri looked to Kain to gauge his reaction before smiling. "I'd love to. Thank you. Dandelion will have a heart attack, but he will have to manage. What can I do to help?"

"Just come to the table," Fealinn smiled leading the way. "It's all ready, I merely pour the cider - or make some herbal tea - and cut the pie."

Kain took off the sword belt and they sat at her table while she fetched mugs and a knife for the pie.

"Why is Nilfgaard buying dimeritium?" Ciri asked. "The Emperor favours mages and elves."

"He likes control," Fealinn said, setting the mugs with cider in front of them. "Right now mages are hunted and dimeritium is in high demand."

"If they return in his favor, he'll already have the dimeritium for any future moment he might need it," Kain added and took a sip of cider.

"No redeeming qualities whatsoever," Ciri murmured, finding herself to be truly disappointed, realizing in the depth of her heart she wished Emhyr to be a better man.

"There are, of course, mages that give us all a bad name," Fealinn remarked placing the plates with the pie slices on the table. "All this witch hunt didn't come from nowhere."

"People will always be wary about something they don't fully understand, be it mages or non-humans," Kain added.

Ciri took a sip of her cider. "Let us hope the next generation of sovereigns will be better."

"It's not all so bright with the heirs now, I'm afraid," Fealinn said. "While the wars are raging, people die alongside their rulers, and for now all that seems to persevere the longest are the Black Ones."

"Things change," Kain said. "That can change, too."

"If only Emhyr had a worthy heir, it might change," Fealinn said. "But he doesn't seem to be going anywhere for now."

"That would be grand," Ciri said. "Or maybe he will be murdered. Like his father."

"Life will put everything in place," Fealinn said and smiled sitting down at the table. "What have you been up to today?"

"Kain taught me how to draw power from nature and then we went swimming," Ciri said, pushing the pie towards Kain so he could help himself to a piece first.

"Drawing from nature?" she smiled. "Wonderful skill. I assume you're making progress."

"She's a quick learner," Kain confirmed, and took a bite out of his slice.

"I had no doubts," Fealinn said, eyeing Ciri with approval. "Do you like it?"

"Magic?" Ciri asked, helping herself to a slice of pie as well before nudging the plate towards Fealinn. "I do. When there's no pain and anger."

"When do they appear?" Fealinn asked.

"When I do it wrong or lose my temper. The latter makes it near impossible to control," Ciri replied.

"Why would you lose your temper? What would make you lose it?"

"Injustice. My loved ones in danger. My loved ones dying."

"Yes, that's an understandable reaction," the elf nodded. "However, it could be harmful to a mage and his or her abilities. Magic is very responsive when strong emotions are involved. And it could lash out in unpredictable ways. Ways you might not want it to go. It would help plenty if you work on your control. Magic is just a force, a chaos, if you like. Your task is to bring control and direction. That is what a magician does."

"And there I am not a quick study, I am afraid. I have always had a quick temper, always struggled to control it," Ciri admitted.

"Best way to start is from a meditation," Fealinn suggested. "Do you meditate?"

"I do. Too often for my liking," Ciri smirked in jest, taking a piece of her pie.

"And how do you do it?" Fealinn asked, looking curious.

"Usually seated in the forest somewhere. Though lately it has mostly been atop a bed or on the floor. Avallac'h used to guide me, to direct my thoughts towards peace and forgiveness, to accept what cannot be changed. But we have not spent much time together lately." Ciri shrugged.

"It's a nice place to start - some peaceful scenery that makes you feel at ease. Can you imagine something very beautiful? Maybe a waterfall or a lake or even a seashore. Or it could be a forest clearing or a field full of flowers. There you could start practicing peace.

"Whenever you feel your emotions stirring, you can connect to that place from your meditation - to that special place inside you that is at peace. It would create a habit of finding calm when you need it.

"As any habit, it needs a lot of practice to get rooted well."

"I can try. I once visited a world that was very cold, but very beautiful. Closer to the stars. In the darkness it sparkled and shone like a million diamonds. Quiet, but so busy at the same time."

Fealinn smiled. "Whatever place you choose, be it real or imagined, save it in your heart and remember how to get there when you need your calm."

Ciri smiled, grateful for her input. "I will certainly try. Thank you, Fealinn."

Kain listened half-heartedly to their discussion while he finished his meal, looking at the window. It was already dark outside. He wondered how things were in Vizima; it didn't feel so good.

While he contemplated that intuitive wariness, he barely noticed his medallion vibrating lightly against his chest.

Kain frowned, covering the place where it was beneath his jerkin with his hand.

Fealinn's smile dimmed, "What?"

"I don't know," Kain murmured. "It senses magic."

Ciri immediately looked around them, but of course, from what she could see they were alone.

"Do you sense magic?"

"This house is protected by magic," Kain said, "so yes, it's everywhere in here."

"It's true," Fealinn added. "I have protective magic here, it makes this place safe."

"What the Cat is sensing lies beyond here," Kain said.

Ciri got to her feet and went to the nearest window overlooking the garden and the other houses beyond, trying to glean something, anything, in the dark.

"The Hunt?" she asked, swallowing. "Could they have sensed us?"

Kain stood up. "I'll look around, and you stay here. I'll be back soon."

"Don't be stupid," Ciri said. "You're not going alone, Kain."

Fealinn touched a hand to Ciri's shoulder, "He's right, they're looking for you. And he can go unnoticed, while you can't do it yet. He'll be fine on his own. Stay here, this house is shielded."

Ciri's heart clenched painfully at the thought of letting him go, but she let Fealinn still her. For now.

"I'll be all right, I promise," Kain said adjusting his sword belt, then pulled the hood on and left.

The village was quiet and dark, as if people left it years ago. The city, however, rang with distant screams and there were orange glow of fires visible around the roofs.

The gates were abandoned, and people behind them were puzzled and panicking like a herd of sheep without a shepherd. Kain backed away and trotted along the wall, letting his senses guide him. When the Cat medallion's vibration intensified, he took a moment to focus his power and clear his mind of thoughts, then leapt up the wall like a cat climbing the tree fleeing from a stray dog. The orange glow was concentrated in the center, around the market place. He heard screams and clanging of swords. The closer he got, staying on the roofs, the colder it got.

The Hunt was truly here.

* * *

"Sit down, Ciri. Try to relax," Fealinn suggested, watching her pace back and forth in front of the door with fists clenched in anxious fists.

"No. I can't stand this."

"He knows what he's doing."

"Even the most skilled and powerful can fall. I witnessed it mere weeks ago," Ciri argued, her mind wandering to Vesemir. She would not find any semblance of peace until Kain returned.


	34. Chapter 34

Roach and Geralt weren't in any hurry; she was trotting lazily without any intention to pick up her pace, and he didn't mind.

Yennefer, though, seemed nervous.

Magic was so much easier to travel with, and, despite the cloak, there were obvious witch hunters posted all throughout town.

Yennefer only relaxed once they hit the outskirts and she no longer had to worry about being peeled off her horse or someone recognizing something about her.

She slowed so that she could fall into a trot beside Geralt and Roach, although her own mare echoed her concerns and wanted to run.

"I don't feel good about leaving her."

"What do you think will happen to her? She's not thirteen and alone, anymore."

Yennefer tossed Geralt an indignant glare, one she was sure replicated Triss's earlier. "A lot can happen. I'm not foolish enough to believe that your brother is going to be enough of a force to stop The Wild Hunt should they choose today to show up or find some other means of finding her. I worry."

"Because you haven't seen my brother in action fighting the said Hunters." Geralt gave her a smile, hoping to reassure both of them. "They'll be fine."

Yennefer nodded. Kain's fighting skills had been thundered about so much so that Triss was still plotting to turn the boy into a mystical breeder.

"I wish I had the same kind of confidence. The fact of the matter is that we've lost her once and I hardly want to do it again."

Geralt shot her a glare, "It won't happen again. Not while I still live."

"Nor I," Yennefer agreed.

Thought that spurred her to drive her heels into the mare's side so they could ride a bit faster. She knew it was pointless, but the sooner they got there, the sooner they got back.

* * *

They were met with respectful nods of the soldiers and guards, and even the Emperor's lackey that hated Geralt's guts bowed and smiled and invited them to follow him to the Emperor.

He led them to the library Geralt was already familiar with.

"Master Witcher is to wait here, for His Majesty wishes to speak to Lady Yennefer alone before His Majesty summons Master Witcher to join them. Please," the chamberlain gestured for a chair at one of the tables, "rest. I shall come for you shortly."

He turned to Geralt's pretty companion and bowed again.

"Lady Yennefer, please, follow me."

Yennefer was tired from the journey—which, all things considered, was quite long. Once they'd arrived, the Emperor hardly wasted time.

She nodded within the man's direction, offered Geralt a reassuring smile and fell into step behind the messenger.

The chamberlain led her through the corridors and past the throne room, up the stairs and through another corridor that ended with a tall door and a pair of guards standing still like statues.

The chamberlain went between them and opened the door after the knock; and as he stepped into the room and Yennefer made to go in after him, the guards seized her by the arms and quickly, like street magicians pulling a trick, snapped a pair of heavy metal shackles on her wrists.

And then, she was led - or half-carried - into the room where the Emperor sat behind his desk, rubbing his chin in thought. His massive rings gleaming in the candlelight.

The chamberlain stood at the wall, his hands behind his back, his face impassive.

The guards put Yennefer in front of the table and stepped back to the door where they remained, waiting for further orders.

"Why, greetings, Lady Yennefer," Emhyr said. "I hear your journeys took you far. Have you found my daughter?"

There had been no time to react as two hands clamped down on each shoulder and the chains were sealed around Yennefer's wrists.

She tested the tension as if she couldn't believe what had happened, cringing inwardly when she heard its clatter and felt her magic temporarily dull in the background.

Her heart dropped and she was shuffled forward like a slave. She couldn't even taper down the urge to fight, one of the soldier's hands bruising as he dragged her.

Yennefer calmed only once she saw the Emperor seated behind his desk.

After being placed before him like a prized cow, she hardly found herself able to contain her fury or to think rationally like she'd intended when they came here.

"What's the meaning of this, Your Excellence?"

A courtesy that had a bit of a snarl to it as Yennefer raised her hands, jingling the chains as if he wasn't aware that she was wearing them or might not have known as much.

Emhyr merely raised an eyebrow at her outburst, as if it was nothing more important than a bee disturbing his quiet with its buzzing.

"I have asked you a question," he reminded. "Do not make me ask it again. Speak. Where is Cirilla?"

"She's safe," Yennefer said after a lengthy pause.

It hurt to address his question when one's pride was hurt.

"But she's not here. She had no care to see you."

Emhyr's brow creased subtly as he pondered her response.

"I see," he said eventually, stapling his fingers over the table observing her. "Even though you were supposed to help with that exact fact, I may yet forgive your insolence. Because you can yet help. You are here, after all. She shall be, too. Unless she wishes to marvel at your pieces."

He waved a hand, and the guards stepped forth to grab the sorceress under her elbows again.

"Don't do this!" Yennefer yelled as soon as the guard's hands clamped around her shoulders, moving to hoist her off her feet when she started resisting. "This is not the way to go about getting her on your side!"

Only Emhyr stared at her blankly, scarcely seeming as though he even saw her as she was carried out like a doll for what Yennefer assumed would be jail or the gallows.

* * *

The Chamberlain - Mererid or whatever his name was - left and closed the door behind him, abandoning Geralt with the Emperor just like when he hired him to fetch his daughter. And just like back then, he had only the one question for Geralt.

"Where is my daughter, Witcher? You had to bring her to me."

"I had to save her," Geralt corrected calmly. "Which I have started, but haven't finished yet. The Hunt is still after her, and she has to stay hidden."

"Are you deaf or dense?" Emhyr inquired. "Or both? I am the Ruler of North and South. I have all the means in this world to protect my own flesh and blood."

Geralt smiled nastily, "But not to find her, apparently."

His face darkened, he got up and began to pace slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. "I believe I have made myself utterly clear, Witcher. Many times. You bring her here, or I shall put a lot of efforts into making your life exceedingly difficult, mayhap even lethal. And that concerns not just you, but your black-haired sorceress, as well. And everybody you ever loved or liked, starting with that annoying poet with flowery name. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely," Geralt nodded with his nasty smile widening. "I merely feel it's not clear enough to you that whomever you consider important to me is the same to her. What is your goal, Your Majesty? To make her resent you even more than she already does?"

"Her relationship with me is not your concern, Witcher. The sorceress and you depend on her decision right now. She survives if Cirilla comes here to speak to me."

Geralt tried to keep emotion off his face and demanded, "What have you done to Yennefer? Where is she?"

"Nothing yet, but many things can be done to a witch that can't respond with magic. She's fully at my mercy. Just like you are."

He picked a golden bell off his desk and rang; the Chamberlain returned with four guards.

"You are to follow these men to your new quarters," Emhyr said, and waved his hand dismissively. "I don't know if you believe in gods, but if you will - pray, Witcher. Pray for Cirilla to come save both your lives."

Gnashing his teeth as the guards grabbed him and rid him of his swords, Geralt made himself sneer menacingly. "You have given her to me, Duny. You have made a promise that couldn't be broken by you, nor even me. And now you're playing against destiny. Let me tell you what I have learned: Destiny never loses to people. Not even to kings."

Emhyr scowled and watched Geralt being taken away.

* * *

After being hauled down a series of hallways Yennefer eventually reached the jails in the west of the castle, hidden below its depth, panic increasing as visions of being on the rack swept through her mind.

"Where's Geralt?!" she hissed as her struggles intensified.

The Emperor and Geralt didn't get on and Yennefer worried that Emhyr might do something serious to cause Geralt harm.

She'd been asking about him since they started carrying her and neither man cared to listen. One broke away to unlock one of the cells while the other dropped Yennefer inside. It didn't look too far off from the place they'd saved Margarita and Triss from, although the stench of piss was less prevalent in the air.

"Stay put," one of the two soldiers added snidely, slamming the cage door, locking it for extra measure. Neither exchanged any other pleasantries before leaving.

* * *

The portals were no longer there, but the round frozen marks were scattered around the market and some in the streets leading to it. The crowd of people and traders caught there when the attack began were tightly pressing together like a bunch of scared sheep. The Riders trotted around on their armed horses, their hounds crept in circles around the crowd snarling and watching so no one got away. A few ripped and frozen corpses lay at the turns to the streets - the failed escapes.

"People of Novigrad," Eredin's voice boomed as he paced before the frightened crowd on his stallion, white puffs of smoke condensing around him and the mouths of the watchers. "Each of you wants to live, we know that. Even the most pathetic of lives yearns to continue, and we would let you. On one condition: if your city stops hiding the one we want. The girl with ashen hair, travels with one or two white-haired witchers. A scar on her face and emerald eyes. She should be in your city right now.

We shall return in five days. You are to give her to us, or we will take every life we come across. Do we understand each other?"

A few guards were pushed forward from the crowd. They looked very misplaced.

"We... ah... um... We understand, sir... um... We will find the girl."

"Good," Eredin boomed, leaning forth in his saddle. Kain imagined his nasty smile widening beneath the helm. "You better."

He waved a hand, and the wizard stomped his staff into the pavement; the pebbles turned misted with frost. The air distorted and a portal opened. The hounds snarled and howled and went into it one by one. When it came to the Riders, the first of them rode past the crowd of frightened people and swung his sword in passing by. One of the guards fell down, his armor frosted over. The Rider trotted into the portal and disappeared. The others went after him.

"It's for you to remember I'm not toying with you, humans," Eredin said. He was the last to ride into the portal. The Wizard stepped after, and the portal closed.

The crowd waited in frozen terror for another while, then gradually began to move. Women began to wail, men were pale and lost wandering around the market covered with frost.

"We have to track that girl or we're doomed!" someone cried. "The king should know! And all the guards! And everyone! The flyers! We need flyers!"

"I know her! I saw her at the market today! She was with that young Witcher!"

"We need artists! Best artists to draw flyers!"

"Right away! We only have five days!"

"What if they escape?!"

"We have to track them down! Right now! Before they get anywhere!"

"I saw them at _Rosemary and Thyme_! They might be staying there!"

"Go there now!"

"Artists! Where are the artists?!"

Kain turned and ran back, leaping over the roofs. It was still quiet at Dandelion's inn; people were oblivious and listening to Priscilla playing her lute. No one noticed Kain as he slipped through the crowd to the bar where Dandelion was talking to someone.

His eyes widened when he noticed Kain; he quickly excused himself to meet the witcher halfway.

"Gods, Kain, where is everyone? I was making myself crazy here, and no one tells me anything! What is going on?!"

Kain told him what was going on a few streets away from his establishment, keeping it short but clear. The poet was getting paler with every sentence Kain uttered.

"Oh my... Ah... Oh... What... What are we going to do?! Are they going here?!"

"You need the Lodge's help," Kain said. "Their magic can help convince the people that we were never here. But you need to hurry, you have minutes left."

"But... But... What about you?"

"We're going to be fine, don't worry. I'll take care of Ciri, we'll see you later. I'll make sure she's safe. You have to make sure you here are safe, all right?"

He nodded frantically, his eyes shifty. He was searching for ways out.

"Don't lose your minutes, run for the mages now!" Kain nudged him to the stairs and hurried for the door.

* * *

"Ciri, no!" Fealinn exclaimed as Ciri reached for the door handle, her slight frame appearing behind the girl and her hands clasping Ciri by the shoulders.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing. Something is obviously wrong, otherwise Kain would have returned by now."

Ciri could sense Fealinn's magic, subtle and soothing, trying to calm Ciri's restless body. But it only had the opposite effect. Ciri was too frightened.

"You have to trust he will return here safely."

"Why?" Ciri all but snarled, whirling on the beautiful elf. "Why should I trust that?"

Fealinn looked momentarily lost for words and Ciri could tell she, too, was worried.

Ciri softened, her own hands coming to rest gently on the elf's waist. "Fealinn, I cannot lose him. I cannot lose anyone else. I know everyone thinks I am incapable of protecting myself, of going into battle. But that is the one thing I know I can do right. I have to go."

She headed for the door, trying to ignore any further protests from the woman behind her.

When Kain opened the door, Ciri almost barreled into him.

He ushered her back in and closed the door behind him.

"I asked you to stay here," he reprimanded.

"And I did," Ciri replied, looking him up and down. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Kain gave her a skeptical look, then glanced past her at Fealinn.

"The Hunt was at the market square. They announced that they're after an ashen-haired girl that travels with one or two white-haired witchers, has a scar on her face and emerald eyes. They gave the Novigrad people five days to track us down or they will kill every human in their way when they return."

Fealinn stared at Kain, but he saw her deep in thought, frantic calculation shimmering in her gaze. "Your hair. You have to dye it right away. I have the herbs. We'll do it now." She hurried to her pantry.

Kain looked at Ciri. "I warned Dandelion. The Lodge will cover them."

Ciri stared up at him, horrified. "We can't let The Hunt kill those people. I'll have to lead them somewhere else. It's my fault they are here to begin with."

"They will tie you up and hand you over if they catch a drift of you anywhere in the city or even beyond it. You can't lead the whole city away - they will rip you apart to preserve their lives exactly as they are."

"Novigrad is the only city no one could ever take or claim," Fealinn said emerging from the pantry with a basket of herbs, berries and powders. "People will never leave it. They will sell their own mothers and children to the Hunt to stay there. It's all they know."

"So they deserve to die?" Ciri asked, brow creased in emotional turmoil. "We need to direct The Hunt elsewhere."

"I didn't say we should let them die," Kain said. "But we have time to find a way to fix this."

Ciri scrubbed a hand over her face. "We need to find a way to warn Geralt as well. If he comes back to town, people will attack him."

"We'll warn them," Kain assured, taking Ciri by the shoulders. "Don't worry. One problem at a time."

"Have they gone, The Hunt? Was Eredin here? Did they hurt anyone?" Ciri asked, unable to keep herself from doing so.

Kain sighed and sat down at the table, casting a glance at Fealinn boiling the coloring mixture.

"Eredin was there," he confirmed. "He announced his demands to whomever was at the market at the time, a few people tried to run and the hounds got them. Then the Hunt left and people began to plan their own hunt for you."

"Brilliant," Ciri murmured, feeling a headache set in behind her eyes. "I summoned them here by practicing magic. Doesn't matter how little it was."

"It couldn't be it," Kain said firmly. "They had help. Perhaps from the very creature that has been helping them before. The Crone directed them. That dream meant something. She knew where we were. She told them."

"How would she know?" Ciri sat down beside him. "Could she be using Vesemir's amulet in some sort of tracking spell?"

"I'm sure she doesn't hold on to it as a memento. She snatched it for a reason. And it had my blood on it when she did."

"Can we find a way to block it?"

Kain shrugged, "By killing her?"

"It's risky to go against the scorned Crone," Fealinn remarked, setting her pot off the stove to cool down while she stirred it. "She will be ready for you, and perhaps even have some Riders for aid."

"Well, we might not have much of a choice." Ciri reached across the table to take a sip of her cider. "How can we find her? Must we draw her out like we would The Hunt?"

Kain thought about it, turning the cup around on the table. "She is weak without her sisters. If my dream has any truth in it, she is confined to that place in the swamps. That wooden house with a sharp cone roof. It's her place of power, the only one she has left. She probably wanted me to see it to lure me there."

"Like I said, she will be ready," Fealinn said. She was scooping the mixture from the pot and depositing it into a bowl. "Ciri, you first. Your hair is longer."

"Do you think it is in Velen?" Ciri shrugged out of her jerkin and rolled up her sleeves, scooping up a handful of the mixture Fealinn provided before cautiously smearing it into the lengths of her hair.

"It's somewhere in the swamps around the Bald Mountain."

"I could take us there." Ciri grabbed another handful and rubbed it into her hair. "It could draw The Hunt away from Novigrad as well. Unless they are predicting this outcome."

"I don't think they would rob themselves of the joy to make you blame yourself for Novigrad. Even if they ambush you in the swamps with that Crone's help."

"Then we should go as soon as we are able." Rubbing the concoction into her roots, Ciri eventually raised her head and looked between the two of them. "Have I got it all covered?"

Fealinn and Kain nodded, and the elf pointed Kain to the pot. He stood up and took the swords and cloak off, then scooped the dark mass from the pot and started rubbing it into his hair.

"Sit for a bit," Fealinn told Ciri and poured more cider into her cup. "Let the color take hold."

"Do either of you have a way to send messages? Other than by post, obviously." Ciri sat down beside Fealinn, wiping her hands on a cloth the elf handed her.

Fealinn and Kain exchanged glances, and she said, "I used my mind with those I knew, or animals and birds. I can send an actual message but need to know where I send it. It's dangerous, though." She regarded Ciri. "You want to warn the Witcher and Yennefer? She is a mage, she will protect them both, don't worry."

"I know she will, but would rather she didn't have to. If we could get word to them not to return to Novigrad..."

"You have to think about yourself, Ciri," Fealinn reasoned. "So they wouldn't have to worry about your protection. Then they can take care of themselves. I will find a way to warn them if they return here. But you two have to make sure the scared crowd doesn't find you."

Ciri was silent because no matter what she did it seemed impossible to make everyone else understand she wasn't worth all this fluster. It seemed much more important to ensure Yennefer and Geralt were safe and wouldn't run into an ambush coming back to town.

Ciri drank.

* * *

After a while - no way of telling how long, for time was not an observable factor in the dungeon - Emhyr sent for the enchantress, and his guards dragged her back to stand before him, in chains and a filthier dress.

"Your Witcher is very annoying," Emhyr mused almost lazily. "But you're probably already aware of it. So how about a small deal? I squelch my irritation and don't rearrange his hide, and you tell me all about my daughter from when you went to hold that battle at your witcher keep to now when you left her to come see me."

Yennefer straightened up despite the ache in her limbs, the hunger in her belly and the irritation she felt with Emhyr once the men who'd dragged her inside stepped away.

"Where is he?"

He wasn't in the same holding area as Yennefer was.

"Not where you are," Emhyr spread his arms, smiling a cold smile. "Where he better stay, because he is to leave there only if he's dead. If you don't want it to happen right now, answer my question. If I have to repeat it - your witcher shall gain a few new scars."

"Ciri will never forgive you for that," Yennefer stated coolly, wanting him to understand that if it wasn't for these chains biting into her wrists she wouldn't have hesitated to launch him through that window or send him to the deep sea where some kind of monster could swallow him up. "Nor will I."

Emhyr smirked darkly, "You think it makes any difference to me whether you forgive me or not? She will have to accept her responsibility as a princess, and it won't matter whether she forgives anything or not. She will have to understand that she cannot escape her crown and duty.

"Now, I will have to repeat my question and send my men to scar your witcher some more or do you recall my inquiry and answer?"

Yennefer was well aware Emhyr didn't care what she thought one way or another, but she wanted him to understand that it was a veiled threat. That if she were to be free of her chains, any cordiality she possessed for the man would be buried, along with her hand in his back. Yennefer should have been afraid, but given what she knew of the man's relationship with his daughter and her distaste for him, Yennefer wasn't feeling all that inclined to speak. "That's a waste of time. Geralt doesn't remember anything about the battle. He hardly remembers me. I found a Djinn I thought might be able to grant us the help we needed, and I messed up. Had you thought to ask me as your guest upon my arrival, you'd know that already. What you're doing now is torturing a man who has done nothing but care for your child as you should have."

Emhyr rubbed his temples, annoyed. "You tell me all about my daughter since you found her or I give the order to hurt Geralt severely while you watch."

"No."

Geralt hadn't broken and neither would Yennefer.

It killed her to think of what they'd do to him – to her. The point was that they'd both done everything in their power to protect Ciri and neither of them was going to give up now.

"We know what we signed up for taking on the role as her parents."

Emhyr laughed, but there was not a sliver of mirth in that sound.

"You're never going to be her parents. No matter how hard you try."

"Blood doesn't make one family."

If it did, then Yennefer, like Ciri, would have been tied to the worst people.

"You might not have learned that lesson yet, Emhyr, but you will."

"Between you and me, sorceress, the one regretting this conversation shall be you." He checked a huge ruby ring on his finger and clucked his tongue.

"Last time: you tell me about Cirilla or they bring you the Witcher's sword hand. Which one do you choose?"

Yennefer thinned her lips with considered determination and curled her hands into fists. The only active thing she could do.

"Unlike you, mighty Emperor, Geralt would go to any length to protect his daughter, even if that means sacrificing a hand."

Emhyr nodded, "Very well," and waved a hand at the guard at the door.

He bowed and exited.

Yennefer resisted the urge to watch the man go, to call the soldier back and instead focused her gaze on the floor, on some spec that had been missed and aged. "If you truly believe that torturing us is the way to get to Ciri, then every detestable thought she has about you is valid."

Emhyr lowered himself into the chair and sighed, directing a bored gaze her way. "I'm the Emperor of North and South. I cannot concern myself with what children think about me. My concern is the future of my throne. The land and its people depend on it."

"She isn't children, she's one—singular—and she's your blood as you so prudently reminded me. You hurt Geralt, you hurt her. You don't understand that? I always presumed you a smarter man than what you're acting."

"I shall do what I have to do," Emhyr said. "And she will know that it was your choice rather than mine."

The doors opened and one of the guards returned with a small tray and showed the freshly severed hand lying on it to Yennefer.

"Shall I send for another," the Emperor said, "or have one of yours?"

"She'll know that you left me no choice and that I was trying to protect her," Yennefer snorted contemptuously. The semblance of civility she usually had in these matters having been drained from her at the sight of the hand.

She averted her gaze sharply, felt tears burn behind her eyes but refused to let them fall. Men automatically thought they won when you cried.

"Take what you need to assuage your pride. I'll give you nothing."

Emhyr smiled a lizard's smile. "She will know that you had a choice but decided to maim the man she loves like a father." He looked at the guard: "Bring us the other one - so Lady Yennefer can take the whole set to her quarters with her."

The guard set the tray on the desk before Yennefer, bowed and left.

Yennefer wanted desperately to be sick at his second command, to curse, to snap his neck clean off his shoulders.

She stared at the hand before her, trying to gauge if it were real, if it was in fact one of those gentle hands that had brought pleasure to her body so thoroughly, along with unmistakable caring that made her ache.

Only she couldn't see through the rush of tears that had started at their own accord.

When the guard returned with another hand still oozing blood, Emhyr nodded and considered Yennefer attentively.

"Please, see the Lady to her cell and take the hands that are now hers with her."

A pair of guards grabbed her, the third picked up the tray.

Yennefer was still silently crying when they came to collect her, dragging her back to her jail without carrying her as they'd done twice before. She didn't struggle and once they'd deposited her back in her cell, she cried harder, the same way she had when talking to Ciri about how she'd lost Geralt the first time.

This had sealed their fate.

Geralt needed his hands. There was no way he'd live without them – that he would even want to – and the resentment that would come from that, if he were to even survive the wounds, was enough to strike a killing blow to Yennefer.

She winced when she looked at the floor and saw the hands there, dirtied, bloodied and unrecognizable in their horror. She sat down and stared at them, not touching, unwilling to abandon her present punishment.

* * *

When Kain was done and sat down, as well, Fealinn cut them a slice of the pie each.

"We should do something about the scar," she said. "Nothing can be done about the eyes, though."

"Eyes change naturally in different light," Kain said. "It's easier to hide."

"You wish to heal it?" Ciri asked, frowning and uncertain how she felt about that.

Kain and Fealinn exchanged uncertain glances, and Fealinn gave a small shrug, "Trying to mask it is more complicated - the exposure to sun and winds and rain ruins make-up salves and powders; and maintaining a magical illusion is draining for an unexperienced mage."

Ciri's gaze fell to the table and she drank again. Deeply.

"At first I thought a disfigured face would keep men from trying to force themselves upon me. But it did not. They do not look upon your face anyway.

"And then... it served as a reminder. That I am not invincible. That no matter my training or my power I am flesh and blood like everyone else.

"And lately, now that I have had to rehash and share so many of the things I have experienced when I was alone, it has reminded me I am a survivor. That I endure even the worst conditions."

Ciri sighed, still not sure how she felt about it all.

"But if it will help us, do what you can."

"Remember what I told you," Kain said. "If that scar runs deeper, it will return. If you want it to return, it will do so sooner. But for the time being it's safer if you don't have it."

"I could draw some elvish ornaments over it," Fealinn said. "But then people will take you for a Scoia'tael, and it's even worse."

Ciri smiled a little. "The Aen Elle always called me the daughter of Lara Dorren. They said the human generations between us did not matter. And yet they wasted no time or effort in telling me how watered down my blood is.

"Being Scoia'tael would not be the worst. But I understand your point."

"Scoia'tael are being hunted and killed on sight," Fealinn said, taking a bucket from behind the corner of the kitchen. "It's best to not resemble them. Or an ashen-haired girl with a scar and emerald eyes." She smiled sadly and went for the door. "I'll bring water from the well, you sit tight."

Ciri mirrored Fealinn's sad smile, darting a glance at Kain. "I know it is silly and unimportant, but... I feel a kind of sorrow having to pretend to be someone I am not. Hiding, once more. Always."

Fealinn sighed and went outside.

Kain gave Ciri a sympathetic look. "It's to protect people who see you. If they recognize you, we will have to protect ourselves, and they get hurt. I don't want that. You don't, either. It's a necessary compromise. Temporal one."

"I know. I am simply tired of it all."

Kain smiled subtly, "Life is tiring. It's a struggle that comes after a bit of rest, and sometimes you find some happy moments along the way, sometimes you do not."

"Tell me of your happy moments. Comfort me."

Kain chuckled with no humor and slowly shook his head. "I don't think there has been anything since I saw my mother last. I've been following the path, wherever it led me, without thinking of my personal gains. Simply aiming to be where the life would put me, where the world needed me most."

Ciri frowned. "You have felt no joy since then? None at all?"

Kain pondered. "Nothing bright and significant. It's been all pretty... even. I haven't been giving my feelings much of a thought. I was just living."

"Is that not sad? No joy... What is the point of it all?"

Kain shrugged. "I was to be a witcher. Witchers need no joy. They're made to serve humanity. So, I would guess, that service was supposed to be the joy."

"Feelings suppressed by mutations. You never went through them."

"I did it to myself. I shaped myself into what I was supposed to be."

"Was it what you wanted to be?"

Kain peered at her for a long moment, uncertain of what to say.

"I never knew what I wanted. Before mother took me to the school, I thought I'd be among the druids. Even though she was already telling me we were to live hidden. I thought I was hidden enough there. And I was content with that life. And then at the School, I thought it was needed from me to be a witcher, and I learned to be content with it. When I got to Brokilon, I learned to bear it thanks to Morenn. When she died, I sort of exhausted reasoning and went on just... living."

"Existing," Ciri corrected with a small smile. "Like me. Maybe there will come a time when we can start something new. Something better."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, maybe once The Hunt is defeated, and whatever comes after that, we can start to live. Not just exist."

"I do live." Kain turned to the door as Fealinn came in with the bucket full of water.

"It's cold," she said, "but there's no time to warm it. Ciri, you first. Come here, yes. Bend over that basin, yes, like this. I will pour water and you rinse your hair."

Ciri's hair took two thirds of the bucket, Kain's took the rest, and then Fealinn gave them towels and observed them with a keen eye.

Ciri's hair was dark chestnut while Kain's became almost black once again.

"It panned out nicely," Fealinn said with an approving smile.

"What now?" Ciri asked, drying her hair and wiping at the skin closest to her hairline to ensure the dye hadn't stuck.

"Your hair," Fealinn said. "You don't look like someone they should be searching for. Aside from the scar, that is."

"I mean, what do we do next?" Ciri hung the damp towel over the back of her chair to dry.

"I have to check on Dandelion and the others," Kain said, putting the cloak on. "If you keep the scar, you better wait here."

"I am coming," Ciri said determinedly. "Kelpie is there. And I need to see that Dandelion and the others are alright with my own eyes. Take the scar if you must."

"You need to want it gone, and you don't."

"I am coming," Ciri repeated, getting to her feet and locating her jerkin.

"If someone recognizes you - and they will try - we'll have to kill people."

Ciri smiled. It was without warmth and filled with a persistent frustration and bitterness. Though not directed at him. It was the situation itself. She hated it. She loathed it. For a few moments after reuniting with Geralt and Yennefer, Ciri had begun to feel so close to freedom. So close she could taste it. But it continued to be taken away.

"Will you please bring Kelpie away from there?" Ciri couldn't look at him when she spoke. She was scared it would make her cry. "And I will need my sleeping draughts."

Kain sighed deeply and caught Fealinn's meaningful look, then peered at Ciri.

"I do understand how you feel," he said in a soft tone. "But I don't want to kill anyone. If anyone will see you, I'll turn around and bring you back here, you understand?"

"No, you are right. I should not come. I will be putting everyone in danger." Ciri did understand the peril of all of this. "Just allow me to feel sad about it. Better I work through it now rather than later."

"Fine."

"I'll make some tea," Fealinn said, cleaning the kitchen from the bucket and bowls.

Outside Kain found two black horses grazing behind the hut. They snorted and approached. Kelpie and Onyx. Kain peeked into the hut and beckoned Ciri.

"You've visitors."

He left her to it and hurried for the city. There were guards at every gate this time. He slipped along the wall and over it like the first time. From the roofs, he saw that most of the city didn't sleep. People who saw the Hunt or heard one of the witnesses' story told and retold it to others.

It wasn't empty in front of Rosemary and Thyme, nor inside. People still discussed their predicament and exchanged ideas of resolving their issues.

Kain slipped inside unnoticed like earlier. There was no music, only worried discussions and drinking.

"It was horrible!" Dandelion exclaimed pulling Kain away to the kitchen. "They searched the whole place, and if not for the Lodge's spells, they'd be dragging us out to the square and bonfires or worse."

"It's not you they want."

"I don't believe scared people ever care about such details," the poet reasoned. "They're ready to murder anyone they view anyhow connected to their problem. How's Ciri?"

"She's worried plenty but fine."

"You two need to hide away somewhere on Skellige or... or... Kovir? Poviss? Brokilon? Anywhere!"

"We can't leave it like this - people will die here if we flee. The Hunt will cut out everyone they find."

"Gods," Dandelion ran a hand through his hair. "You can't let them catch you, either. Geralt will kill me for letting you."

"I'm pondering another idea. We need help of someone who has power within the city."

Dandelion frowned, deeper so as soon as it dawned on him. "Oh, you don't mean-"

"Is there a better idea? Going to the king who loves putting mages on fire?"

"No, no, of course not. But..."

He had no chance to finish his thought as a newcomer entered the inn.

Another royal messenger.

Dandelion gasped softly; something was wrong with Geralt and Yennefer.

"I need to speak to Cirilla," the messenger said at the counter.

"But we don't have anyone by that name here," Priscilla responded.

"She goes by the name of Ciri," the messenger said. "I need to relay the royal message in person. By the royal orders."

Kain placed himself in front of the messenger and touched his right arm, squeezing subtly while he looked him in the eye.

"Your message will reach her and you can assure the king that you have done it right," Kain said, pushing the thought into his mind. The man's eyes went foggy, he nodded, entranced.

"Cirilla is to come to Vizima and meet His Majesty the Ruler of North and South as soon as she hears it, and then her friends might be spared. If she doesn't come by next sunset, they are to be put to death."

"You may return now," Kain said, squeezing his arm again, then withdrew his hand.

The messenger blinked like a man waking up from a slumber, then bowed and turned to leave.

"Damnit," Dandelion said, bumping his fist down on the counter. "That bastard!"

"We'll figure it out," Kain said.

"How?!" Dandelion stared at Kain with a suffering, imploring gaze. "What can we possibly do with the Hunt and now the Emperor? All at once!"

"Don't panic," Kain said. "We're still alive. That means we can still do something."

"I think the Lodge is going to relocate to Skellige, given newly discovered trouble. Cowards."

"Even so, you might want to do the same, Dandelion. Both of you."

"Where would we go?" Priscilla asked. "We have worked so hard on this place and its name. If we leave it all now-"

"You will survive," Kain said. "This place won't go anywhere. But you need to be safe to return when this is over."

"We'll have to think about it," Dandelion said. "How much time before the Hunt returns?"

"Four days."

"We'll see what we can do, but first I have to know Geralt is safe."

"That's fair," Kain nodded. "I'll take care of it."

"Convince Ciri to go to Skellige," Dandelion said. "It's the best place to be, with that elf sage of hers."

"She won't agree to go alone."

The poet rolled his eyes and shook his head, but didn't argue. It was the truth.


	35. Chapter 35

"Kelpie!" Ciri exclaimed, rushing outside to embrace the mare, stroking the sides of her long neck. "How did you know I was here?" Ciri had not summoned her.

Of course, Kelpie did not answer. But she nudged Ciri's shoulder with her muzzle and snorted softly.

Onyx behind her was already busy feasting on Fealinn's garden.

"Take them around back," Fealinn said, watching them from the doorway. "They're less likely to be seen there."

Ciri nodded and did as told, leading both horses behind the cottage to another grassy patch where they could occupy themselves.

She allowed herself another two minutes of Kelpie-cuddles before she returned to Fealinn. She was pouring the tea as Ciri entered.

"Come sit," Fealinn invited.

"I've been sitting a lot lately," Ciri remarked, taking a seat anyway to not be rude to the gracious elf.

"Not in your blood to do so?" Fealinn ventured.

Ciri shook her head. "No. I've been restless ever since I was a child. I would always sneak out of the castle to play with the children of the village. Even when my grandmother forbade it."

Fealinn smiled, nursing her cup of tea. "She was a strict woman?"

"Very. But also kind. I miss her."

"The ones we have lost are still with us in spirit. In our hearts and memories. She is not entirely gone."

Ciri shrugged. "I suppose not. But I wish I could feel her more clearly. She would know exactly what to do in these situations. Of course, she had entire armies at her disposal. Might have helped."

The elf laughed softly. "Possibly." She pushed Ciri's cup towards her. "Drink, Ciri. It will calm your nerves."

Ciri obeyed.

Kain didn't waste time on sneaking around the city to see what was going on and went directly to the village.

They were finishing their tea when he came in.

Ciri stood immediately, her empty teacup deposited on the table. "Are they alright?"

"They are, the sorceresses helped. But there's another problem." Kain took his place at the table when Fealinn poured him a cup and gestured for the chair. Kain sipped his tea and told them about the royal messenger.

Ciri was silent while Kain spoke, but the moment he finished that stopped. "Then I have to go. I knew it was a bad idea. They shouldn't have gone!"

"You can't just go," Kain reasoned. "He's obviously prepared this, and you have no way of knowing what you're walking into. We need a plan to ensure all three of you get out of there."

"Obviously. But from what you told me we don't have much time." Ciri rubbed the back of her neck. "I can transport us all out of the castle but not unless I have Geralt and Yennefer close enough to touch."

"He wouldn't want to give you that opportunity," Kain said. "He might keep them locked up in different places. And then you can only save one at the time - which gives him a chance to kill the other out of spite and to punish you."

"I wouldn't put it past him if he went for such a plan," Fealinn said.

"So what do you suggest?" Ciri asked, bracing her knuckles on the tabletop. "Distraction technique?"

"I'm good at sneaking around unnoticed, but in a place so big and unpredictable as the palace it would be useful to have a doppler's help."

"Only there's probably some magic alarm in place," Fealinn said. "Any mage or creature using glamour will set it off and be killed or seized."

"Dudu would be willing to help, I am sure," Ciri mused. "But how can we bypass such magic? I do not even know which mages Emhyr has on staff. Think the alarm could be disabled by a sorceress?"

"Were it so easy, all mages would be doing it and passing into cities and castles undetected," Fealinn said.

"Then we'll have to manage on our own," Kain said.

"Are you certain?" Ciri asked. "You'd be the one doing all the heavy work. The one in danger."

"On the contrary: I will have to leave you alone with him."

"He won't kill me. At least not right away. He needs me alive. They all do."

"There are things worse than death. He probably wants to trap you there."

"Yeah, you don't have to tell me," Ciri muttered, sweeping her hair away from her face. "We won't know what he wants until I get there and it will have to be handled then. Our priority is to get Geralt and Yennefer, as well as yourself, out safely."

"There is one obstacle now since we couldn't predict it: your hair. We don't need him to know how you disguise yourself."

"That's a fair thought," Fealinn agreed.

"I can wash it out once we near Vizima."

"It's a good mix," Fealinn said. "You would need my help with that, otherwise it would hold for at least three or four days with daily washing, gradually fading."

"It's all right, I have another idea." Kain smiled at Ciri a bit cunningly. "You don't have to meet your father right away. Let's go."

Fealinn hugged Kain at the door and pressed her lips to his in a kiss. "Be careful."

Kain smiled, "Thank you for everything."

"You can always count on me." She went to hug Ciri. "Both of you. Be safe."

Outside, they mounted and rode quietly toward the woods to make a loop around the village and stay undetected.

"What do you mean I won't have to meet him? I am not risking Geralt and Yennefer's lives to keep my hair a secret," Ciri declared as they rode on.

"How well can you feel Yennefer?" Kain asked when they determined the direction to stay off the road. "I can only find Geralt."

"I can't," Ciri admitted. "I have never been able to. Not unless she opens a portal near me."

"Well, that's complicated," Kain admitted, contemplating. "Perhaps I'll be able to find her, but it would take more time. Do you have anything of hers?"

Ciri shook her head. "When I had to leave her as a child, I did not exactly have time to take any belongings. The closest would probably be the sleeping draughts considering she made them."

That certainly made it difficult. But there was no other way short of leaving her there, which was unacceptable.

"I'll try on my own, then."

Kain nudged his horse, and they sped up along the forest line, keeping to the shadows and trees until the city loomed ahead, a black lump under the starry sky.

"We stop here," Kain said dismounting. "You'll have to wait for my signal to get him. It should be precise locating. I hope you can do it. He's your destiny. It should be enough of a bond."

"I am getting Geralt?" Ciri asked, slipping off Kelpie's back. "And you will find Yennefer?"

"I'll do my best, I promise." Kain took Ciri by the shoulders, their eyes locking. "Don't do anything until I tell you. We can't risk any more than we do."

Ciri nodded. "I won't. Are we to meet here once we are out?"

She looked over her shoulder at Kelpie and Onyx. "Should we hide them further away?"

"I hope you can be quick about it - grab him and bring here. It might take us longer, but here is good enough to wait. If you will have to go further away, I'll find you. Worry about yourself, I'll do the rest."

"I will be in and out in a flash. If we, by some chance, aren't here when you return, get Yennefer to safety."

Kain's fingers squeezed on her shoulders, "Make it back in a flash, or neither of us is going anywhere if you're not here."

"Don't you dare get yourself hurt over me," Ciri warned, pulling him in for a quick kiss before she pushed him away. "Go. We don't have much time."

"I can say the same to you."

* * *

Kain had no problem getting into the city: the gates were open, probably waiting for Ciri to arrive. The guards didn't turn their heads when he went past them in his magical trance. No one noticed him on the way to the palace; people looked through him and thought it was a breath of wind when he walked past them.

The guards inside the palace were none the wiser. It took a bit to wait until the gate opened to let out another pair of soldiers to change the guards. Kain slipped inside like a shadow while they did.

Ciri watched Kain disappear into the shadows, then set her eyes on the palace. She had never been here before. Against all odds. But she had heard many tales of how spectacular it was.

It did not seem that way to Ciri. It felt cold and dark. A place she would not like to stay.

She wondered whether it had always been that way, or if it was the effect of Emhyr and his merciless, tyrant ways.

Kelpie came up behind Ciri and nipped at her fingers. Ciri pulled her hood up, directed the mare back to the grass with Onyx, and kept an eye out for Kain again.

* * *

The palace was huge, indeed, full of corridors and halls and chambers. It would take Kain all night to wander aimlessly. There was only one way to do this.

He found himself a temporal refuge in the corner near the entrance where he wouldn't be seen by the guards and disturb his trance to focus on Geralt, his energy, his scent.

After a while, Kain had something. A trail he could follow. With footfalls upcoming, he cleared his mind once again, but now there was a tug of the energetic residue. He snuck past the strolling guards chatting about some tavern girls and went quietly for the stairs.

The library was empty but lit very generously by numerous candles and three fireplaces, one in each room.

Kain slowly made his way around studying the books, maps and parchments on the desks. He shuffled among them and came up with a drawing of Ciri's face. A masterful work, the eyes, the expression of subtle worry, the strands of hair framing her beautiful face. The cheek with the scar was turned away from the viewer by the angle of the portrait: she was looking intently into the distance behind Kain's right arm.

He folded the drawing and hid it in into the inner lining of his jerkin, then continued his examination. Geralt's trace was more saturated here. Kain could sense where he had sat, what he touched. But it wasn't the one he was after.

It was much more difficult when it came to Yennefer. Kain spent more time wandering around the library sniffing her out.

She had been there, he found a bit later, but not long at all. There was a mere whiff of her presence, as fleeting as it could be if she walked in and out almost immediately.

Kain stopped at the fireplace, watching the flames while pondering his further actions. It was easier to try and follow her trail around the palace. But then it would take him longer and might jeopardize his disguise. It's hard to keep your mind empty and thus undetected while searching for someone. Kain could do that tracking from here, but it would cost more. And if someone walked in...

He sighed and lowered into a chair, closed his eyes and concentrated. No more time to waste.

* * *

The time passed painfully slow and the longer Ciri was left without any word from Kain, the more she worried, the more she paced. Not even Kelpie was able to calm her nerves. Ciri just wanted all three of them out safely.

While she waited, Ciri focused on her bond with Geralt, trying to sense for him, to ensure she would be able to travel to him when Kain gave his signal.

* * *

Yennefer stared at the hands for hours, a sickening blue as they began their steady disintegration. The guard who'd cut them off had come in regularly to abuse her about it, to drive deeper the mistake Yennefer had made and the fact that Geralt was dead.

He grinned about it and without even reading his mind Yennefer knew he was proud.

Ciri would hate her.

Yennefer hated herself. She also hated the soldier peeking at her through the bars as if she were an animal in a cage, who'd found at length a stick and prodded at Geralt's lifeless hands through the bars as if he expected them to fight back.

He couldn't even come inside to goad her.

She'd fought him off before, tried to protect the hands from harm as if Geralt might feel them in the afterlife, and snarled at the man. All that Yennefer could, all that was permitted now that she was no longer able to unleash her anger.

He laughed, nudging the sorceress's back, making a lewd suggestion she hardly cared to hear as she picked up the dismembered limbs, carrying them deeper into the cage with her.

* * *

It was going nowhere.

With a frustrated huff Kain opened his eyes and looked at the fire as if it could tell him how to fulfill his task.

It told him nothing, but the tiny white flickers in the heat of the flame-tongues dancing over the blackened logs like eager lovers made him think of something. He sat back and closed his eyes again.

Her hair... That luscious raven hair, smooth and heavy like heaps of silk... That scent... Almost impossible to forget, and Kain was certain it was chosen with that purpose, just like everything else meticulously collected in her image like a complicated elvish riddle composed of hundreds small pieces with uneven edges that were hard to place together so they fit. In her, everything fit like in some divine creation, and no piece went without the other and the other next to it.

The flickers of cold flame, blazing like little stars she had impossibly tamed to wear on her collar... They glistened and blinked in the dip between her collarbones, sitting in the rays of the black onyx star, and the pulse worried her skin over its tip in subtle beats...

The diamonds in her star... Tiny stars in a black one, shimmering with power, soaked with the very essence of what the sorceress was...

Kain felt it. Like a sudden cloud of a scent, a perfume that covers you as someone approaches. He sensed the trail now, and the hollow, murky stench of despair lacing it. He didn't dig in to explain it; he had to become a shadow once again.

He got up from the chair and followed the shimmering thread through the corridors and stairs.

* * *

"Don't ignore me, Sorceress!" the guard commented snidely from opposite side of the cell. "What you're in love with those hands? They can't do anything for you!"

Yennefer barely registered that the steel trap had opened until she felt hands clamp down on her shoulders and hoist her from the floor. The blue limbs dropped from her lap like two pieces of useless meat, clapping sickeningly as they hit the ground, sound that echoed around her and temporarily made Yennefer lose hold of her sanity.

There had only been one other time she'd gotten that close.

She gasped in horror, bringing her hands up to prevent the guard from stepping on him—on what remained of Geralt—only it was the least of his concern.

A flat hand connected with the side of Yennefer's face and her cheek flamed.

"That's better," the guard snapped as soon as her eyes had focused on him, laden with hatred and shimmering with their familiar violet warning.

"Beautiful," he commented discourteously, twisting her around, shoving her back into the wall, one hand coming to rest against her chest while the other hand wound its way around her throat. "You should learn manners."

And with that, he'd leaned in, the intention as clear as the smell of death on his breath.

"C'mon, hurry up, ye shit," the second guard said, casting a quick, shifty look over his shoulder to make sure they were alone and had time.

Who would care? Those sorceresses are whores, everybody knows that! One more, one less, who counts? Certainly not the Emperor. He wanted her punished, and they were doing what the king ordered. They always did.

The first guard detached his lips from her mouth with a loud smack, grinning, his hand tightening on her throat while the other fumbled under the lower rim of her corset in search of the waistband of her pants, pushing them down her hips. When she tried to fight him, he pushed her head into the stony wall harshly, making her vision darken for a long disorienting moment, his breath all over her face like from a large horse.

"You keep still, bitch, ye hear me? Or it'll be worse."

He pushed her black leather pants further down and shoved his hand between her thighs, fingers probing like claws. He grinned.

"Ye get wet for me, witch, ye'll get it good. I'll make ye forget yer freak."

He was so eager unlacing his pants' crotch that he very unfortunately failed to notice how his partner jerked with a quiet grunt and fell down like a cut down tree. The fallen guard's boots were still trembling unevenly when the first man was abruptly ripped away from his victim like a kitten grabbed by the scruff and thrown out of the cell. He connected to the wall with such force his metal chest piece cracked like a boiled egg when he fell on the floor. A thin trickle of blood snaked from one of his nostrils.

Yennefer began to slide down the wall when Kain caught her and held her upright.

"Hey, you hear me? Don't pass out, Yennefer."

The guard's hands had been there, his fingers nestled between flesh Yennefer never otherwise would have considered inviting him, and then, he was gone and she was incapable of keeping herself upright.

Whether it was because Yennefer hadn't eaten in how long or because she'd finally had the law straw, she couldn't be sure and nor did she care.

At least she didn't until she peered up into two familiar eyes.

Geralt?

_How is he here? They've tricked me?_

"Geralt?" Yennefer murmured, vision blurring with shock and tears, fighting the dark spell that wanted to pull her under.

"Yennefer, stay awake!" Kain hissed, glancing down briefly but making no move to make her decent. She had to do it herself. He tapped a hand on her cheeks to get her out of the lethargy. "Wake up, we have to go. There's no time. You hear me?"

Yennefer's vision cleared and Geralt's face faded away, giving way to Kain and the warmth of his hand on her cheek. She blinked with confusion and then shuffled to her feet, finding the strength again, feeling the black fade.

"How'd you get here? How'd you know? Where's Ciri?"

"Too many questions," Kain said, flicking his gaze down to her hips meaningfully. "Get ready, I shall take you out of here."

He turned away to give her privacy while he closed his eyes and invoked Ciri's image, her face, her eyes – her essence.

'It is time,' Kain sent to her, a mere whisper inside her head as if he stood behind her and she could feel his breath tickling her neck.

Yennefer followed Kain's gaze, remembering the position she'd been in a minute ago and then righted herself as best she could, using the wall to brace herself while she hauled up her pants in turn as her chained hands would allow, fixing the leathers together to keep them from going anywhere.

When he turned back to face her, Yennefer felt less insane and more in control.

Kain turned back when the jiggling of Yennefer's chains stopped, and approached, taking her wrists in his hands to examine.

"That's going to take efforts." Kain peered into her eyes, a shadow of sympathy passed through his face. "I can't help you with magic to not alert any possible mages the king has. Without it, it's going to be painful. I'm sorry, it's the only way."

"What is? You're— do what you have to."

"Try to be quiet," Kain said softly, taking hold of her left wrist, shifting the shackle to see. "It's very narrow, made specifically for women's wrists. It's going to hurt."

Yennefer glanced down at her hands, trembling slightly from the cold and in anticipation of what he was going to do or she had assumed.

"I can take pain."

He tightened his fingers around her shackled wrist and another around her hand, squeezing it like a dead chicken leg, then abruptly squished it breaking her thumb bone. He pulled the shackle off her broken hand as quickly as he could.

She'd had enough of pain and broken bones in her life. And yet, once the bone snapped, the urge to scream had torn through her like a kick to the chest.

She bit down on her lower lip, drawing blood, hissing in relief once he'd managed to remove the steel although the pain had remained, weakening the arm.

"Quickly! Finish it!"

Kain did as she asked. The bone, so thin and delicate in her hand, cracked softly, sickeningly, and the shackle came off, taking some skin with it, drawing blood.

Her hands were shaking, she was leaning against the wall and panting. Kain felt sorry for her pain, but a part of him couldn't help but recall Freya's Garden on Skellige and her choice to do away with it for a nasty spell.

There was always price to pay for ill choices. Even for mages. Power always tried to balance itself.

After the second finger had snapped, Yennefer had to lean into him to muffle the urge to shout out, temporarily feeling the strength evade her again.

The chains were gone and the magic awakened like a beast.

Only it was muffled.

"You're too weak," Kain remarked and held out a hand to her. "I don't know if I can heal you. But you can. Go ahead, take what you need."

She accepted his offer, focusing on taking a bit of his energy. The limbs straightened at once, popping into each their sockets with an echo.

Her drawing was painful; it tugged at Kain's innards as if she shoved a hand into his solar plexus and squeezed her fingers like talons of a big bird.

Yennefer let Kain go once she was sure she was strong enough.

He grunted, taking a moment to even out his breath and find his center.

Her pain didn't disperse, lingering, assuring her that her thumbs were weak and that they'd be useless for a while. That she needed to heal.

"Thank you," Yennefer breathed at last, working her fingers, trying to make sure they kept up and would work as was needed when the time came.

"I'm not sure I can get us out of here."

He peered up at her, focusing.

"Can you take yourself out of here? Can you feel Ciri? She's a mile from the city, waiting for you. Can you portal to her?"

Yennefer closed her eyes and felt for Ciri, attempting to probe her energy to latch onto that comforting familiarly.

Only her head wouldn't allow it.

"He's dead," Yennefer said and swallowed thickly.

She glanced down at the ground, to where the hands still lay, scuffed from the struggle and almost unrecognizable.

"I—I… they took his hands."

Kain cast a puzzled glance down at the floor where she looked and made out two severed hands in the dark. He winced, adding up the things she said in his head.

He couldn't think about it. Not at this moment.

"You have to go NOW, do you understand?" Kain took her by the shoulders like he did Ciri earlier, locking his eyes with hers in the dark. "Can you or can you not?"

Ciri was going to hate Yennefer once she told her, and that in itself was a fear. Also the least Yennefer deserved. She raised a hand, still aching from where Kain had cracked the bones, and a brief time later the portal appeared.

"Get out safely," she urged, not because she cared for the boy, although he had her in debt for saving her, but because of Ciri and because of who he now was to Geralt.

A moment later, Yennefer stepped through the portal.

* * *

Kain had not made it back since Ciri returned from the palace, and once more she was left pacing.

Something that stopped once a portal appeared a few feet away and Yennefer tumbled out. Ciri rushed to her, took her by the arms to support her.

"Yennefer! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Yennefer murmured once she felt Ciri's hands on her arms, drawing the girl against her tightly. "I couldn't bring him with me. I didn't have the energy."

"It's alright. I will go in after him if he's not out soon," Ciri said, urging her to sit down where she could rest her back against the tree. "What happened?"

Yennefer took her suggestion and moved to the ground, staring at her feet, finding for the first time in her life that she lacked the confidence to speak plainly and clearly to Ciri. "Your fath— the Emperor happened. He had Geralt and I locked away. He's trying to draw you in."

"I know." Ciri knelt before her. "He sent a messenger to tell me he'd kill you if I didn't come."

"And that's why you're here? You should have fled."

Ciri smiled a little, pushing Yennefer's curls away from her face. "I know the past years may have made it seem otherwise, but I don't like to run and hide."

Yennefer glanced up at her from where she sat and considered the truth.

"The Emperor dismembered Geralt."

Ciri stared at her, unsure she had heard her right. "What?"

"He took his hands."

"I… I don't know what that means."

Yennefer let out a shaky breath. "It means they chopped off his hands and that I've basically killed him."

"Who did you kill?" Geralt walked toward them from the woods where he had followed his call of nature earlier, frowning as he saw Yennefer. He squatted down before her. "Are you hurt?"

Ciri watched Yennefer with growing concern, worried she might have hit her head. Or was she delirious from whatever they had done to her in there?

For a moment Yennefer thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, that Kain had materialized like he'd done before. Only he hadn't, and every fiber before her was Geralt. But how? Had they got to him first?

Yennefer glanced down at his hands, taking a hold of them, shifting to her knees so that she could better inspect what damage they may have done to him.

"I'm fine—nothing but scratches," she muttered. "Are you?"

Frowning deeper in confusion, Geralt tried to determine whether she was in her right mind. "Chained me up in a cell, and that's about it. What happened to you? Did that bastard do anything?"

"Nothing but torture me mentally!"

Yennefer was angry now, but not at Geralt.

"I told Kain— does he know you're here?"

"He knows I was getting him out. I took Geralt, Kain took you," Ciri said, getting to her feet and peering down at the slope where Kain had disappeared earlier.

"Then hopefully he'll be fine getting back to us."

Geralt heard the noises coming from city. They knew their prisoners were gone.

"You two should go," Geralt said. "Take the horses and go. I'll wait for him and we'll catch up."

"Not happening," Ciri warned Geralt. "I am not leaving without him. And out of the three of us, I am the one who can get him out without a sword if it is needed."

"You're not going back in there, you hear me?" Geralt hissed, eyes blazing at her. "It's exactly what Emhyr wanted. We can't let it happen."

"Geralt's right. If you go in there—then it's exactly what he wants."

Yennefer pushed up off the ground.

"I'll go in after him. I shouldn't have left him."

"No one's going anywhere," Geralt said. "Yennefer, you're weak, and Ciri can't get close to the palace. I bet he has some mages at the ready the whole time. And now they're searching for us. He can take care of himself. He's proven it enough times."

It was a bit longer than each of them wished, but eventually, Geralt heard the horses galloping and reached behind his back for his sword. Two horses rode to them across the field, a man on the leading one. He stopped abruptly and slipped off as he neared them.

Kain. His hair was dark like Ciri's. Next to him was a worried Roach. Yennefer's horse began to graze behind them.

"We should go now," Kain said, shoving Geralt the reins. "Before they track us with magic."

Satisfied only when Kain appeared out of the dark, Ciri whistled for Kelpie and climbed onto her back, waiting until the rest of her company was ready before they hurried away.

They didn't take the road, sticking to the wooded areas where they would be harder to track and less likely to be seen.

"We can't go back to Novigrad," Ciri informed Geralt and Yennefer, having to strain to talk over the rapid hoof beats of their horses.

Geralt slowed down his horse, and Ciri's mare adjusted her pace.

"What happened?" he asked.

"The Hunt came. Put a price on my head - deliver me to Eredin when he returns in a few days time, or everyone dies. They're all searching for me now. As well as the two white-haired witchers I travel with."

It was hard to digest at once; Geralt didn't expect the Hunt to just come out of nowhere to attack Novigrad out of all places. It did make sense, however, that they took people by surprise.

"Fantastic," he commented. "Turns out we need to catch up."

They rode into the woods and settled with a small campfire to take a break.

"We can't sail to Skellige now, either," Geralt said. "They won't let any ships out."

"The Hunt will return in four days and kill people if they don't hand her over," Kain said. "We have to help people fight them back. But there's only one person who can convince them to do so instead of handing us over."

Geralt looked at Kain over the crackling fire. "Dijkstra, you mean. It's a wild card. Might work, or might not."

"There's only one way to find out," Kain reasoned. "Unless you want to try Radovid who Philippa hates so much."

"Or I lead The Hunt somewhere else. Far away from Novigrad, taking away their reason for going there in the first place. We can't put all those lives at risk. The children..." Ciri sighed.

"They're not interested to follow you away where you will escape again," Kain reasoned. "They know they've found something good here where they can actually get to you. No matter what you do with your magic from now on, they shall come in four days and gladly slaughter people even if you give yourself up."

"I agree," Geralt said, looking grimly at Ciri. "It's not in their interest to go on your wild goose chase now that they said they'll come. The only way is to meet them on their chosen ground. They might still not have the resources to bring more Riders like they did at Kaer Morhen. Therefore, we have a chance to beat them. But only if people of Novigrad cooperate."

"We need Dijkstra," Kain added. "And the Lodge. Though Dandelion said they were going to flee for Skellige."

"I might need to change their minds," said Geralt.

"What do we do about Emhyr?" Ciri asked, looking between the three of them. "No doubt he will send soldiers after us all, or maybe target someone else I care for. And do we even have the pardon we need for The Lodge?"

Geralt looked at Ciri somberly. "Right, we do need that pardon. But he'll never give it to us without meeting you. I don't say you have to, Ciri. We can think of something else."

"That'd be too many hunters after one deer," Kain said. "We have to try and resolve that issue with Emhyr. Also... While I was searching for a way out of the dungeon, I saw someone in a cell. A woman with the same chains on her hands. She could be a sorceress. We have to get her out."

"I'll take Ciri and we'll talk to Emhyr."

Yennefer had more than one bone to pick with him and she knew what to expect going in.

"I'll talk to him," Ciri said after a moment's contemplation, looking to Yennefer. "Are you sure that's wise? What if he tries to hurt you again?"

"I know what to expect now. It's the fastest way in and out and we'll control the conference. If for whatever reason I can't get us out, you can – no hesitation."

"I can't let you go alone," Geralt said.

"Who's going to save them if they fail?" Kain said.

"And if he executes Yennefer?"

Kain shrugged. "There is always some risk. But if Ciri is with her, there is no reason to do that in front of the princess."

Ciri looked to Kain. "Teach me how to send that signal. Should something go wrong, I can let you know."

"It took me years to learn," Kain said. "But even if your signal is weak, I'll catch it. I'll be listening. Just imagine me as closely as you can and send your message."

"You can't go now," Geralt argued. "Yennefer is too weak. There are mages serving Emhyr. He won't let you do anything. He won't be fooled twice in the same day."

"While the man sleeps, then. He has to."

"He might choose to not sleep until he gets us," Geralt remarked. "But Yennefer has to recover and we need to come up with a plan. That mage in his dungeon. If it's Fringilla, we need her."

"Not sure I'll be able to take us directly to his bedchambers, anyway," Ciri said. "I don't know the outlay of this palace."

"You'll go in without magic," Kain advised. "Thus we make sure no magic alarm hits you."

"Right," Geralt echoed.

"Great," Yennefer offered in return.

"You two should try to get some sleep," Ciri told Yennefer and Geralt. "Get your strength back."

"I need to get back to Novigrad," Geralt said. "Talk to the Lodge and make sure Dandelion is fine."

"No," Yennefer retorted. "We're all going back together. We're not splitting up anymore."

"And go see Dijkstra," Kain added.

Geralt nodded. "If we have to."

"Did you not hear the part about people searching for you as well?" Ciri pointed out.

"They already searched Dandelion's inn. We have to talk to the witches before they leave for Skellige or into hiding," Kain said.

"No," Yennefer repeated, grabbing a hold of Geralt's thigh as if she expected him to flee. "If it is Fringilla in those cells then you have to get her out. The Lodge won't negotiate without the pardons, anyway, and they might decide to negate the entire idea if they find out what Emhyr has done to us. We need to keep their faith."

"I need to make sure they don't disappear before we save her or not," Geralt argued. "I need to talk to them. Or Triss."

"Triss then," Yennefer agreed. "I'll send you back."

"You sure you can take us to Dandelion's? You need rest."

"If she can, she will rest there," Kain said. "Ciri and I will ride." He held a hand to Yennefer, "Take more, if you need it, and go."

"What about Emhyr?" Ciri asked.

"He isn't going anywhere."

Yennefer took Kain's extended hand, gently this time as a way of saying thank you for what he'd done for her in the jail and to accept his offer—only she didn't start drawing on him yet.

"We go now?"

"Take what you need to portal yourself and Geralt to Dandelion's. Ciri and I will manage on our own."

Yennefer did as he entreated, siphoning of his essence again, being sure just to take enough to open the golden door and rose of the ground, releasing him once she was fully on her feet.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Another skillful motion of her hands and a minute later Geralt and Yennefer were carried back to Novigrad.

Kain and Ciri watched Geralt and Yennefer disappear before they put out the fire and got back on the horses.

"Do you really think people of Novigrad will be able to hold their own against The Hunt?" Ciri asked, remembering how they had basically slaughtered an entire village back in Skellige.

"No one could take the city by siege," Kain said, maneuvering his horse between the trees. "But if the attack is from within, they have enough soldiers and people trained for battle to fight to maybe kill a few Riders. Aen Elle are stronger, better trained and dressed and have magic. Without our help Novigrad can hardly win this."

"People will still die," Ciri said, frowning. "I hate this. This senseless death in my name."

"You still don't get it that it's bigger than you. It's one world invading the other in whatever name or for whatever cause that they deem fair. There were many other worlds before this one. They keep doing it because they don't want to choose another solution for themselves. If not for that Elder Blood, there would be another reason, territory. Their world is dying, so they would take this one after cutting everyone else out. It is happening because of what they are like rather than you being you."

"I know that. And I know deep down were I to give myself over, these innocent people would all die anyway. But it still pains me," Ciri admitted.

Kain cast a look at her when they rode out of the woods and the crescent moon on the sky provided more light.

"Compassion is good for your heart," he said. "But there is a fine line between sympathizing and torturing oneself over someone else's crimes."

"Just another thing to work on." Ciri threw a small smile his way. "How are we going to enter town? Stick to the rooftops?"

"We have four horses with us, so no."

"We could leave them at a stable outside of town," Ciri suggested. "I've a feeling the color of my hair won't deter anyone from paying us extra attention."

Kain smiled a little, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe you should use the roofs."

Ciri eyed him curiously. "Think you won't be searched at the gates?"

"I know how to not draw extra attention. I've been a spy for years."

"Alright." Though it was likely they would search everyone entering and leaving the town at the moment, considering what was at stake.

* * *

"Oh gods, you're all right!" Dandelion cooed, ushering Geralt and Yennefer into the furthest corner and up the stairs away from the crowd. Thankfully, his clientele was engaged by Priscilla's performance. "You both look too pale and exhausted, but it's all right, it can be fixed with some Erveluce and... and a bath..."

"The Lodge," Geralt interrupted when they stepped into his room. "Are they here?"

"Yes, for now," Dandelion nodded. "Although I honestly don't want to go in and see what they're doing there."

"Nor do I," Yennefer said. The short travel had hit her hard despite what she'd taken from Kain. "I need a mattress."

Dandelion nodded. "And my horse?"

"She belongs to the Emperor now," Yennefer jested.

He cursed, mumbled something about cursed violet eyes, and turned his attention back on Geralt.

"You should talk to Triss," Yennefer said and slid up behind Geralt. "Triss alone."

"Um... no offence, Yennefer, but you ehm... smell... a little... of... of... um..." Dandelion winced searching for any words that wouldn't turn him into a toad when Geralt came to his rescue with the harsh truth.

"It's piss and shit and death. We've been to Emhyr's dungeon."

"Oh," Dandelion looked from Yennefer to Geralt with an expression of both disgust and sympathy. "A bath it is, then. Please, um... open a window or... something. Did Ciri get you out?"

"Offence taken." Yennefer drew back from Geralt with a touch of self-consciousness and gifted the bard a glare. "She did. She's on her way back to Novigrad with Kain."

Dandelion's features softened with relief and he nodded. He'd opened his mouth to rattle on about some other trivial nonsense, probably to prod more about what had happened, but Yennefer'd had enough.

"Well, I would hate to further taint such a rich establishment with my smell and be accused for the cause of its lack of patronage. I need rest. Have your precious Priscilla send up some soup."

Geralt smiled, watching Yennefer's annoyance seep into every gesture and soak her expression. "You're still in my room, so I'm afraid I'm not going anywhere, nor are you." He turned to Dandelion as he lay the sword on the table. "We do need that bath right away, and… the soup, too. Thank you."

"No problem, coming right up," the poet said, backing away to the door. "I'll… eh… would bring the water myself, but… um… my hands are my bread, Geralt, you know that. And I can't really let you go downstairs and be seen with buckets… or even without them…"

"Just get the food, and Yen will manage the water." Geralt cast a glance at Yennefer, giving a small shrug, while Dandelion disappeared out the door.

The door closed behind Dandelion and Yennefer focused on Geralt. Had he remembered the baths she'd made for him in the past when they'd been together? Maybe the trauma of their time in the Emperor's dungeons had shook something loose in him?

"I won't be able to warm it up," she warned, knowing that even if she wanted to, she didn't have the strength for that task.

She could barely tend to this one.

Yennefer threw open the windows, focused on the well located outside of the Inn a short distance away. She hoped that there was no one there to see what she was about to do and to alert anyone as she didn't have the strength to check or make certain.

She extended her hands, felt the magic leap from her fingertips and snake out in search of its target, returning an instant later in form of a thick funnel of water that leapt into the bath with a messy splash.

She paused a moment to catch her breath, shut the windows and then slowly started to strip.

"Is it to your liking?"

Geralt merely smiled at the display of magic and approached to dip his fingers into the water. He gave Yennefer a mock displeased mien.

"Cold. You could do better, I was somehow so sure."

With a sigh, he shoved a few logs into the fireplace and cast Igni; the flames flashed and crackled gaining force and spreading over the wood.

Yennefer narrowed her eyes with playful irritation. It shouldn't be that easy given what they'd endured – she had endured in that jail – but it was.

Geralt was alive, Ciri was safe, and that's all that mattered.

Yennefer left her clothes in a heap at the window, knowing that for a time she'd never wear them and would opt for something else, and sauntered over to the bath.

She grimaced as her toes slipped into the cold water, brushing it off as she sank deeper and eventually submerged entirely, briefly trying to cleanse herself.

Geralt feasted his eyes on her figure until it submerged in the tub, then fed another log to the fire and sat at the table watching her.

The door opened and Dandelion clumsily got in carrying a tray.

"Here's your soup and- I'm not looking! Not looking! Excuse me... Here... Your dinner."

He put the plates on the table, trying to keep his back to the tub. "Ciri and Kain haven't come yet. But I suppose it's too early to panic."

"It is," Geralt agreed. "They'll be fine."

"You don't always have that certainty," Dandelion remarked. "Shame, because many times when I need you calm and relaxed you're just doing everything in your power to get yourself into more trouble."

"I don't need to remind you how your score of trouble is scarcely lower than mine," Geralt sneered.

Yennefer quietly broke the surface to catch her breath, wiping the water from her eyes, watching the two bicker back and forth and finding comfort in their normalcy. They were the strangest of companions.

"Do the two of you need some alone time? Should I step out?"

She'd positioned her arms on the edge of the tub, breasts pressed against the side of the wood, gifting the two with her most charming of smiles – even if forced.

"No," they reacted in unison, and Dandelion added:

"Perhaps you wish it's me who steps out, and I guess, all things considered, it's not such a far-fetched thought. I shall go back to our guests, but I will have you both know that I'll be needing the details of your Vizima adventures."

He gave them both in turn a stern look, summoned to install the belief that he wasn't joking, then left them alone.

Yennefer watched the door close behind the bard, gaze averting to Geralt.

"Need me to help you undress?"

She slipped a hand out of the water, using a single finger to pry about the belt with invisible hands, whatever was attached to it dropping to the floor with a clunk.

"Only if you plan on making the water warm," Geralt said, buckling the belt back and settling at the table to eat.

"I don't," Yennefer said, relaxing the hand, smiling as he moved to eat.

"But you are free to join me."

She splashed more water around herself, over her face and arms, scrubbing away the grime. Truth be told she just wanted to hold him, to revel in the fact that he was real, that he had his hands and that she hadn't killed him.

"The cold may do your muscles good."

"I do prefer to treat myself where I can, for those moments are too rare to miss out on any single one of them."

Geralt sent a spoonful of soup into his mouth and hummed with pleasure. He only now realized how starving he was.


	36. Chapter 36

Kain and Ciri rode a bit further around the village and across the bridge to the city southern gate. There were four guards with no work on their hands.

"Ye better have a letter of safe conduct," one of them said, placing himself in their way.

The other laughed, "How many arses ye have to travel on four mounts? Hmph, people these days."

"Hoods off," the third commanded stepping from behind his companions. "And prepare the papers."

They pulled the hoods off; Ciri's hair spilt around her shoulders and framed her face, somewhat masking the scar. The guards scrutinized them in the light of torches, visibly disappointed.

"What's with the letters?" Kain asked. "We haven't been told about that - we merely follow orders delivering the horses meant for Sigi Reuven. Know him?"

The guards' enthusiasm faltered, they exchanged uncertain glances.

"The fuck he does with horses?" the third guard asked and brought his torch closer to Ciri's face.

"The heck should we know," Kain said. "Our job is to deliver the order. But rumor has it the good sir Sigi got some interest in the races at Oxenfurt. These are our best ones."

"Oh yeah?" the second observed Roach with itching doubt. "Ye say they're fast? I'd look at that."

"Hey, the wench has a scar!" the third announced, pointing a finger.

"So ploughin' what, look at the damn hair!" the first argued, however his hand crept toward the sword.

"She got it from Kelpie, a skittish mare," Kain said. "The bitch swayed her head and got her with the bits metal end. There was blood like it was war. She dropped the reins and we barely caught the darn beast."

The fourth scoffed. "I always knew horses were malicious shits."

"No pass without the letters," the first said.

"I'd like to see you folks face Sigi that you made wait," Kain said. "Cause him any more hassle with letters and whatnot and I bet yer sweet arses ye be sorry ye stand here tonight."

"Aw shut up!" the second waved his metal-gloved hand. "Not much ye know, smartarse."

Kain leaned forth in his saddle, a cunning smile on his lips. "I do know that while you're collecting your future trouble with Sigi here stalling his goods, yer friends at the Glory Gate are apprehending some high-end criminal with ashen hair that they boasted to get rewarded beyond their dreams for. I guess that gate indeed brings glory tonight. Shame it's not yous who's gettin it."

They exchanged another set of glances, panic and anxiety rising like waves in a stormy sea.

"Go on, get through, ye stupid shits," the second roared at them, scaring Roach; his armor clanging as he propelled his arms to usher them through. "We got work to do here instead of dealin' with yer nonsense."

They didn't wait to be asked twice and trotted up the street to Dandelion's inn while the guards hurried to the Eastern gate to catch some glory by the tail.

"Kain The Deceiver," Ciri smirked once the guards fell away and they continued down the street. "I am impressed. You are a skilled liar."

Kain shifted on Onyx's back, uncomfortable. "I'm not proud of it."

"I think in this case, with people who wish to kill you, it is alright."

"Everything has a price," Kain said contemplatively. "Every deceit, every person manipulated or hurt, every bit of magic misused, everything comes back to its owner."

"Shit will come to us either way, Kain," Ciri replied softly. "It has since our birth. Before we were even capable of making such decisions. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Kain simpered without much mirth looking over at her. "The day you decide to not suffer over your enemies' sins, I'll consider your proposal to not brood over mine."

Ciri glared. "I thought we'd already established you are much more emotionally stable than I, Archer? And older." She shrugged teasingly as if that alone should have better prepared him for handling such feelings.

"Mm. Thirteen years. Too old for you, princess."

"Oh, that is not true. People marry their daughters off to ancient men all the time."

"Didn't take you for a marrying kind."

"I'm not. When my grandmother tried to have me marry, I ran away to Brokilon."

Kain laughed, slipping off Onyx as they neared the inn's stable. "Of all places."

"Well, it was not entirely intentional to get lost in those woods." Ciri followed his example and slipped off Kelpie, handing her over to a very nervous stable hand before they went inside.

"Keep your head down so your hair falls over your cheeks," Kain instructed before they went for the door past the few inn's guests that had stepped out for a pipe smoke.

Inside, Priscilla was singing about raven stormy locks - her best ballad yet - and no one paid Ciri and Kain more mind than a fleeting glance as they snuck toward the stairs.

Ciri immediately went for her room where she hoped the sleeping draughts were still residing. She found them on the nightstand in the pouch Yennefer had given to her and tied it to her belt.

Kain left her to it and turned to the room that had been his. It was a bit cold and abandoned. A huge part of him still felt the need to go where Griffin was. Nothing felt better than when he was next to Kain and there was nothing to worry about for the next few hours.

Ciri's door opened and Dandelion peered inside.

"Ciri!" He exclaimed as though not having expected to see her there. "Priscilla said she thought she saw you. Are you alright? Unharmed?"

Ciri nodded, smiling affectionately. "I am. Tired, but fine."

"Oh, then you should get some sleep."

"Geralt and Yennefer – they made it here?"

Dandelion snorted. "Of course. Geralt and Her Enchanting Highness are in his room as we speak, washing up and eating."

"Good." Then Ciri did not have to worry about them for a few hours. Now that she had her sleeping draughts she might even be able to get some sleep.

Dandelion left and Ciri downed one of the potions, not even pulling her boots off before she collapsed atop the bed.

* * *

Yennefer watched Geralt eat with a touch of envy, raising her hand once more, drawing one of the soup bowls toward her so that she could eat and bathe at the same time.

The sooner she slept, the better.

"Did he torture you?"

"Chained me up with arms spread, and that was about it." Geralt directed a gauging look at her, swallowing. "You? What happened to you there? You were... saying strange things back there."

"A lot," Yennefer offered, bringing the bowl to her lips. "He made me think he'd killed you."

Geralt raised his eyebrows, but had to admit to himself he was hardly surprised. "Hoping to gain what, exactly?"

"A swift death," Yennefer supplied bitterly, focusing on slurping the hot soup, not wanting to make a mess in the water. "And information on Ciri."

Geralt frowned, "What else would he summon us for. What did he want to hear from you? I was merely chided for not fulfilling my job of bringing her. Then he said she'd come herself now that we were there. And then - hello, dungeon."

"Basically the same. Only he wanted to know where she was and I refused to tell him. He punished me for that."

"By lying to you about my death? And you believed him?"

"He formulated proof to give his word merit."

Geralt hemmed, chewing on a piece of potato, peering at her expectantly.

Yennefer slurped the soup, making a point of ignoring the heat on her tongue, and carefully set the bowl to float on the water when she was done.

"They took your hands. At least what they said were your hands."

"Hm." Geralt helped himself to another mouthful.

"Ciri's back here, safe," Dandelion said, stepping in, making a show of looking anywhere but Yennefer's way. "I hope she'll rest."

"Kain?" Geralt asked.

"Priscilla saw both, but he's not in her room, if that's what you're interested in."

Geralt smirked and drank.

"What is the plan now?" the troubadour asked. "Do we flee Novigrad before the Hunt gets back or..."

"We still need to explore our options," Geralt said.

"What options? Which direction to flee? Wasn't it Skellige?"

"We entertain the idea of staying to fight."

Dandelion paled, fell back against the door behind him. "Are you insane? They'll rather cut you all to pieces and sell to the elves than fight them."

"That's why I said we should explore our options," Geralt said, finishing his meat.

Yennefer pushed aside the bowl as Dandelion entered again to inform them of Ciri's return. She could breathe easier knowing that the girl was back.

"But before then. We need rest." She glared at the troubadour and extended a finger in his direction.

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he took a step back.

"Dare I say I agree!" he yelped.

Yennefer smiled softly, saw him turn on his heels and head out the way he came.

She scrubbed her hands across her arms, washed her face and then slowly stood, climbing out of the bath, reaching for the sheet nearby to dry off.

"You should speak to Triss at your earliest convenience."

"I shall." Geralt finished his ale and watched her idly while she dried herself off. "You can rest, I'll settle it all myself."

"You mean the Lodge?"

"Yes. And whatever comes next. Kain's idea about Dijkstra is worth following. He and I will manage."

"And while you do that, Ciri and I do what? Take care of the Emperor?"

"You two rest," Geralt reminded her, his mouth twitched in the smallest of smiles. "You can't do anything right now before you sleep. So lie down and sleep."

Yennefer wrapped the towel around herself and ambled toward the mattress, climbing beneath the covers. "You should also sleep. I wasn't the only one in those jails, Geralt."

"I'm a witcher, Yennefer," Geralt said, mildly amused, and strapped the sword belt on. "I can go on without rest for a long while. I did no heavy lifting in that jail. I opened no portals and endured no torments. I shall be fine. Worry about yourself for a change."

He gave her a small smile and left the room.

Yennefer stared at the spot he'd been a minute ago, sinking down into the pillows, unable to contain the sadness she felt.

If Geralt had been himself he'd have realized how traumatizing this day was for her, that the idea of her sanity had been a mere touch away from breaking.

That it had been there, so close that she could taste it and could still taste it brimming. And yet, instead of comforting her as Yennefer knew he would have, he'd walked out, left her with her thoughts, with the images of what she thought was his hands and the grief.

A tear squeezed from her eye, followed by another, and another, until it seemed it was all she did until eventual darkness claimed her.

* * *

Ciri was sleeping peacefully when Geralt came into her room on quiet feet. Smiling, he approached and pulled the covers up to her chin, then lit her fireplace to warm her room a bit. He didn't dare kiss her head to not wake her. He took a long moment to look at her calm face, then went to get Kain.

He emerged from the door, a tray in his hands, when Geralt raised his hand to open it.

"Dandelion," Kain said. "I think he was under the impression we were all starved."

"Weren't you?"

Kain simpered, leading the way downstairs. "Maybe a little. I didn't quite realize it until he brought the food."

"That's true for all of us. Ciri and Yennefer will be resting now, and we have someone to visit."

"I figured."

Triss appeared in the corridor as they headed for the stairs. "Geralt," she said, casting a fleeting glance Kain's way, then threw her arms around Geralt's neck, squeezing. "I'm so happy you're unharmed! It's horrible what could have happened…" She pulled back, a bit alarmed, "Is Ciri all right?"

"She is resting."

"Oh, good. Yennefer?"

"Same. Tired, worried and now resting."

"I see. It's good. I'm glad you're all safe. And… Geralt, I believe we have to talk – all of us – and discuss our newest ordeal."

"I have nothing to tell them, yet, Triss. We have to take care of one thing first."

She squinted with suspicion. "You can count on my help, Geralt, you know it. I can go with you."

"I know, and I appreciate it. But I can do this one."

Triss rose on her tiptoes and kissed Geralt's lips. "Be careful." She went upstairs to the Ruby Suite the Lodge was occupying now that Avallac'h was no longer there.

* * *

People in the city were on the edge. Kain and Geralt had to resort to different narrow dirty streets to avoid patrols and ever-watchful citizens that couldn't sleep and preferred to roam around looking for something they didn't know about. Priests of Eternal Fire preached on all corners once in a long time gathering huge crowds that buzzed, cried, wailed and complained. Some prayed, their lips moving, while staring at the priests pleadingly as if their further fates depended on the yelling figures in red robes. Endless patrols passed through the crowds, new flyers were being put on the walls and doors; many fluttered across the pavement like dead moths.

Dijkstra wasn't alone. It felt like Geralt was going through something that had already happened before as they crept through the corridor – still battered since Philippa's outburst – and the hushed voices from the library reached him.

"If we don't resolve this soon, we're all gonna be there at the stake or on the sharp end of those freaking bastards' swords and peaks."

"I am well aware of that," the drawling but angry voice of Sigi responded. "You need to calm and trust me. After all, you're still around. Not thanks to solely your own hard work."

"Let me move in and drag that coward from his hole," the other one hissed. "A few rearrangements to his goldy locks and he's gonna sing the tune we wanna hear. It all can be solved within minutes. How much of the precious time left are you willing to waste, Sigi?"

"None. I told you I'm on it. If you're eager to join Cleaver's ashes at the stake, you can go drag shit out of holes. But if you want to live, you better let me work."

"Aw, fuck you and your work. Look at where it got us. Who the fuck gonna shovel all this crap away when you let the ploughin priests and hunters roam our streets and take out all the forces we coulda used? Huh? What kind of work is this?"

"That's precisely what we need to discuss," Geralt said, strolling in and past the tall dark bookshelves with Kain in tow. "Greetins, Dijkstra. Francis."

Dijkstra didn't seem surprised at all, while Francis Bedlam glared in the poor candlelight like an infuriated foglet cornered in his own cave.

"You better clean up after yourself, Witcher," Bedlam said. "Because if you flee and leave us up to our ears in your shit, ye gonna be sorry, I swear to all gods and ploughing flames out there, ye hear me?"

"Francis," Sigi interrupted, a small smile of superiority tugging at his lips. "We will resolve it now if you leave us and make sure no band disturbs a certain Inn without any proper orders. Please, do that in the name of our fruitful relationship."

"Fruitful, my arse," Bedlam grumbled and pushed past Geralt heading for the door.

As soon as the library doors swung closed behind him, and his boots echoed further and further down the corridor, Dijkstra dropped his smile in favor of a grim glower.

"Took your sweet time, Witchers. Now, what is there to do with you and your little princess that managed to ruin my city? How did she bring the Hunt here? I thought you were taking care of it at your fucking keep. What were you doing there? Picking daisies?"

Geralt sighed folding his arms and looked at Djisktra with a tired annoyance. "We were fighting an army you can't even imagine. We lost people, we almost died – all of us – because of how few of us there was. You refused your help, so you have no right to complain. It wasn't our doing to direct them here. They did it all on their own. I have no way of knowing how they track her, but they must have deduced this somehow."

"How they did it is secondary to what we should do to save your precious city," Kain said, leaning a shoulder against the bookshelf.

Dijkstra gave him a skeptical once-over. "You even a witcher or a mage?"

"Both. What difference does it make?"

"Because it seems we need all kinds of freaks on our side of the barricades." He flicked his small, sharp eyes between them. "So how the hell you suggest we save Novigrad?"

* * *

Though Ciri's sleep was peaceful, she woke what had to be a few hours later. It was still dark outside. She felt a sense of unease and decided she needed to check on Geralt and Yennefer in the next room.

Only when she got there, the Witcher was nowhere in sight. The sorceress, however, was asleep like Ciri herself had been minutes earlier. Or at least it looked as though she was.

Ciri crept close and lay down behind her on the bed, letting her front mold to Yennefer's back and resting an arm over her hip. When Ciri was her student Yennefer would never have allowed such a thing. She had been colder then, as if scared to get close.

Ciri didn't get the sense she was frightened of that anymore. Not with her. So she rested comfortably beside the sorceress, content to be in her presence.

Yennefer sensed immediately who it was that had crept in behind her, an arm snaking from beneath the covers, hand coming to rest upon Ciri's.

"Have you slept well?" Yennefer asked without opening her eyes or turning to regard her, content for the time to just be able to lie with one another for a while.

"Yes," Ciri answered softly. "Did I wake you? I did not mean to."

Yennefer patted her hand reassuringly to let Ciri know she didn't mind the company.

"I've had more than sufficient rest, my sweet. Have Geralt and Kain returned?"

"Returned from where? I haven't seen either."

Yennefer lifted her hand gently and shifted so that she could roll onto her back.

"Geralt said he'd take his— his Kain to tend to the few that he had to do. That was last night." She wasn't too worried and wasn't going to allow herself to worry yet. "How are you feeling? Prepared to deal with the illustrious Emperor?"

"It's still night," Ciri murmured, glancing towards the window. The sun had yet to rise. "I am alright. And I do not think I can ever be fully prepared. But I am willing. That is a start. Though I have no clothes fit to visit an emperor."

It was indeed night because as soon as Yennefer's gaze fixed on the lack of light from outside she could feel weariness close in, as if she'd been deluding herself.

"There's no need to worry about fashion or the usual formalities. Emhyr needs to see who you are now, who you've been required to be for the last two years."

"Did he hurt you? While you were there – did he hurt you?"

"Very much," Yennefer stated. "Don't worry yourself about that. It's nothing that can't and won't heal."

She shifted the hand so that it had come to rest on Ciri's hair, lovely locks that were always reminding of her adoptive father's, providing who she truly belonged to.

Ciri's expression turned dark. "What did he do? I need to know."

"He made me think he'd killed Geralt."

Yennefer couldn't think of a worse outcome and even the mere mention had brought tears to her eyes again.

"I'm sorry," Ciri whispered, the information fueling her hatred for the man who dared call himself her father.

"Not your fault." Yennefer combed her fingers over the top of her head, through her hair gently and drew her closer to Yennefer's side. "You can't help who wants you and the degrees they're willing to go to."

"No. But I can hate them for it." Ciri closed her eyes, comforted by Yennefer's presence and enjoying being beside her.

"That you can," Yennefer mused. She'd come to dislike the Emperor immensely. Not that she'd ever really liked him. She'd tolerated him for resources and what he could do for his daughter. "Don't let it eat you up. You're far too young for such bitterness."

"And yet I have so much of it. Enough to last me several lifetimes. Certain people say it would be better if I could just forgive, and they may be right. But I am not sure I can. Not yet."

"No one can make you forgive until you're ready." Yennefer knew that well enough herself. "Just don't let it ruin you."

"I'll try not to," Ciri smiled into her hair. "Sleep, mother. I will watch over you."

She needed her rest if she were to portal them to Vizima later.

Yennefer smiled at Ciri's thoughtfulness. "You need the sleep as much I do, my surprise. Close your eyes. Dream."

She paused mid thought.

"You still have of the remedy I made you?"

"Yes. I had some just a few hours ago. It keeps Him at bay," Ciri murmured, obediently closing her eyes even if she was unsure she should sleep. It seemed an unfair thing to do while Geralt and Kain were off taking care of business.

"Good."

Yennefer continued to stroke her hair, enjoying the modest gesture and soon allowed her own eyes to close so that she could drift off beside her.

* * *

"A grand plan," Dijkstra commented, looking either bored or preoccupied. "In theory. It is a damned lot of work. And all of it for me. What are you going to do? Skip to another part of the world?"

Geralt watched him with narrowed eyes. "What do you want?"

"Something else needs to be done," the spy said. "Something that your plan can't work without. Tell me, Witcher, what stands in the way of magic in our lovely city?"

"It's not just the Eternal Flame cult that you're implying, is it?"

"Of course not - those bitches are a bunch of cowards unable to sleep soundly while some can practice magic that they can't do. The biggest obstacle is not those priests, nor the pathetic Witch Hunters. It's Radovid, and you've known that for a while. So what do you think now? That regicide is too dirty for your clean hands or you finally understand how this shit hole works?"

"You know perfectly well I can't get involved in such matters," Geralt said, displeased and uncomfortable.

"Well, what can I say to you, Witcher, other than congratulations on your epic failure to protect the people you were created to protect, as well as your own daughter. They all will die, your daughter will be taken away from you forever, the city will fall, and the they will decide to finish the job and conquer the rest. And all because you stepped back when it was crucial to act. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal," Geralt grimaced.

"And what about you?" Sigi considered Kain like he were a speck of shit stuck to his new shoe. "Are you shitting yourself the same way your new friend is? That your hands are suddenly clean after all the spying and assassinations performed in the name of that monstrous forest?" He sneered nastily. "I've been doing my job for a long time, boy, I can put pieces together until they fit. You're one of those infamous Brokilon agents. None of you were ever caught - alive. Your dyed hair doesn't fool me, either."

"What do you propose?" Kain asked. "That I murder Radovid in the name of saving Ciri and Novigrad?"

"All I want from you is a little help. Neither of you has to kill him. Merely help get him where we need him. And that is it. Then we can gather the forces and save everyone. Is that so bad to pay with one life for so many?" He bored his eyes into Kain. "A spy to a spy, you at least should understand, Cath. Your name, isn't it."

"If Radovid dies," Geralt said, pulling Sigi's attention from Kain, "what then? We still have the cultists and their crazy mob of hunters and followers."

"You leave that to me," Dijkstra smirked. "I know exactly how to sway crazy mobs. All I need from you two is your word that you will do your part. Do I have it?"

"Hm." Scowling deeply, Geralt threw Kain a quick grim look. "Fine. We'll help."

"Excellent," Sigi said. "Leave the rest to me. We will need dimeritium, and much more than the witch hunters possess. Find a way to get us more, and it's one problem less with the spectral portals."

"We'll see what we can do," Kain said.

"Good. Meet me at Passiflora after sunset. We shall have things to discuss. Now get the hell out of here, it's time for work."

* * *

Dandelion poured Erveluce into three cups standing on the counter. Even Kain didn't reject the offering and sipped.

"Sigi told the truth, I used to be a spy," he said in response to their curious looks. "Not all the drinking required on missions was a pretense."

"Makes sense," the poet grinned. "Especially since your taste is sharpened to the higher probe.

"So that's why we weren't arrested," he added. "I thought it was a strange luck."

"Dijkstra was expecting me," Geralt said. "He ordered your inn untouched to deal with us personally."

"He does like to deal with us personally," Dandelion grimaced and drank. "What now?"

"We meet him again to discuss details. Before that, we have to get some sleep. And figure out where to get more dimeritium."

"We had some left at Kaer Morhen," Kain said. "In the boxes. We can pick them up if Ciri helps with her jumping talents."

"Right," Geralt grumbled. "Another way for them to track her. Can she even use her power with dimeritium?"

"I believe she can," Kain said. "But we need to check it. We didn't have a chance to."

"All right, one thing at a time," Geralt said. "She needs rest. And we need to talk to the Lodge."

"Even without the pardon, there is sense in offering them to help us," Kain said.

"Of course," Dandelion said. "Novigrad people will be grateful. No more witch hunts."

"Without that pardon, there is nothing to stop the hunts and executions," Geralt reasoned. "We do need that pardon. And Fringilla."

"What are we celebrating?" Triss asked, almost snuggling up to Geralt with her arm hooking onto his. She shot a look at Dandelion and he silently produced another cup and poured wine. She took a sip and smiled, content.

"Too early to celebrate," Geralt said. "We're just drinking. To wash away the meeting we're back from."

"Oh," she narrowed her eyes briefly. "You went to the bathhouse. How did it go?"

"We'll need another meeting to determine that," Geralt said. "But he's willing to help us fight for the city."

"What's the price?"

Geralt sighed. "Radovid."

Triss sipped her wine, contemplating. "It could be expected," she said. "He wants Redania. And now he can get it with your swords."

"I'm not killing him for Dijkstra," Geralt said. "He wants me to help guide him where they want him."

"Will you?"

Geralt shrugged and drank. Dandelion quietly refilled the cups, watching attentively.

"Ciri and Yennefer are still here?" Kain asked.

"Oh yes, sleeping, I presume," Dandelion said, casting a glance at the table where Zoltan and his game partners roared in laughter.

"Were they going somewhere?" Triss asked, looking from one witcher to another. "Alone?"

"They wanted to negotiate with the Emperor."

Triss stared at Geralt, "The pardon?"

He nodded, "Among other things."

"Haven't you been kept prisoners just some hours ago?" She looked at Kain with a glimpse of hope. "At least you should understand how risky it is to send them on their own."

"We are aware," he said. "But the less he knows about our abilities the better. Should something happen to prevent their return, we'll do what we can."

"But we cannot predict what can happen before it does," Geralt added and downed his wine. Dandelion refilled again.

"Yennefer is a mighty mage," the troubadour said, "and Ciri can do things no one else heard about. They should be fine, right?"

"Right," said Geralt.

"Not necessarily," said Triss, observing the men sternly. "He might not like magic, but doesn't feel shy about keeping sorcerers as hired labor. Slaves, more like."

Geralt shrugged languidly, "Not much we can do about anything in advance, Triss. They will have to manage. No one else can find a way to placate Emhyr but his flesh and blood he's been looking for."

Triss sighed, setting down her empty cup. "We have to talk to Philippa and Rita. We need them for the battle. If you deliberately keep them out, it won't end well. You both know we need them."

"We know," Geralt sipped his Erveluce and smacked his lips in pleasure.

"But we do need Ciri's help with him if you want your friend back," Kain said. "We believe he has Fringilla in his cell."

"And without at least teasing the Emperor with what he wants we cannot get her out legally," Geralt said, "which needs to be so."

"Gods," Dandelion muttered, drinking. "When does all this horror end…"

"I'm sorry, Dandelion. You should've chosen your friends better," Geralt cracked a smile and downed his wine.

"I chose the best," Dandelion said sourly, "but there is always a higher price on those."

* * *

Ciri didn't sleep, but when she was almost certain Yennefer had fallen back into slumber, she carefully pulled away and left. She was hungry. The dinner at Fealinn's had been interrupted and most of the pie remained untouched.

She padded downstairs where she found Dandelion, Triss, and the Witchers in conversation.

She slipped in under Geralt's arm and leaned against his side.

"Where have you been?"

"You're supposed to be sleeping," Geralt reprimanded, embracing her with one arm while Triss still clung to another.

"Naughty girl," Dandelion commented and clucked his tongue.

"Am I?" Ciri questioned with an impish gleam in her eyes and an amused smile on her lips. "Where have you been?"

"Bathhouse," Kain said and finished his wine.

"And? Can we count on Djikstra's help?"

"Most likely," Geralt said. "It's better for him to save the city rather than lose it."

"It's the best city in the world," Dandelion said. "Losing it is like... like the end of the world."

"Which will come if we lose against The Hunt," Ciri reminded him, and then when she caught the forlorn expression on Dandelion's face, amended: "Sorry."

"We haven't lost yet," Geralt reminded. "Let's not lament the city before we do all we are going to do to prevent it from happening." He turned to Triss, "We need more dimeritium, but there is no normal way of getting it in time."

"Yes, I can help with that," she said. "Powder?"

"Yes, for the bombs."

"Where will you get it from?" Ciri asked Triss. "Surely no one in the city is willing to co-operate with sorceresses at the moment?"

"Kovir," Triss smiled. "They will gladly cooperate with me there. Though I would need help with heavy lifting." She looked inquiringly between Geralt and Kain.

They both nodded. "Sure," Geralt said.

"I'll have the basement cleaned," Dandelion said. "Zoltan will make the bombs."

"Good," Geralt said. "We should bring more from the keep."

"Perhaps we better leave those boxes for when we need them again," Kain suggested. "If Triss gets us enough, we don't have to tap into that stash."

"The pretty Witcher is right," Triss smiled brilliantly, tipping a wink Kain's way. "We should have enough."

Geralt shrugged. "One trip less is fine with me. I hate portals."

"When will you leave?" Ciri looked between the three of them. "When it dawns?"

"It would be wise to sleep first," Dandelion said cautiously. "It's going to be a long day, you all need to rest."

"He's right," Triss said, looking from Geralt to Kain. "I can help to make less sleep more fruitful. It will restore you in less time. Fully herbal solution and a bit of good old muscle relaxation."

Geralt pondered, casting a gander at his brother who gave an imperceptible could-be look.

"Thank you, Triss," Geralt conceded and placed a kiss on her cheek. She managed to turn her head ever so slightly to catch the kiss with the corner of her mouth.

"It's the least I can do."

Ciri's eyes narrowed ever so slightly because she knew damned well Yennefer would not appreciate the display Triss was putting on with Geralt. Was this always the way with love? Two people fighting over the third? It seemed exhausting and painful.

"Fealinn would be able to do it better," she murmured under her breath, mostly for Kain's ears.

"What is it, dear?" Triss asked, leaning into the counter to see Ciri past Geralt.

"Nothing." Ciri forced a smile and signaled it was a private matter between Kain and her, not wishing to hurt Triss's feelings by making her think she was doubting her capabilities. Ciri wasn't. Just her motives.

Triss displayed a hearty smile and cast another look that traveled from Geralt to Kain. "You shouldn't lose any more time, boys," she said, tugging lightly at Geralt's arm. "The sooner you can rest the better for the city."

Geralt hemmed in agreement and thanked Dandelion for the wine.

"Oh, it's nothing, my dear friends," the poet grinned. "You go now. I'll explain everything to Zoltan when he's... free."

Triss tugged Geralt toward the stairs and threw a luring glance back over her shoulder to Kain. "Don't be long."

"Yennefer's shackles are in her saddlebag," Kain told Ciri when the Witcher and the sorceress reached the stairs. "Dimeritium. They need to be delivered to Fey or a master armorer you could trust. Once you know what you want - a bracelet or two or a necklace."

Ciri scowled after Triss and Geralt before Kain caught her attention.

"I don't know anyone I can currently trust," she mused. "I'll have to do some research I suppose."

"Then Fey it is. She knows who can be trusted."

Ciri nodded. "I'll take it to her now while Yennefer still sleeps. If we are lucky we can find someone to work on it while we visit the emperor."

"She knows who can be the best for the job. If you can wear it - who knows, perhaps the Hunt's magic won't work on you.

"I better go upstairs: don't want to make her believe I'm avoiding her. It attracts more attention."

Ciri took his hand in hers before he could leave, stalling his progress momentarily.

"Um, Triss' hands are known to... wander," Ciri warned. "At least in Geralt's case. I would not be surprised if it was the same with you."

Kain smiled, amused. "I have never lived as a saint, either."

"Oh." Ciri knew, of course. She had never considered him anything remotely saint-like. Good and decent, yes. But that to her had nothing to do with his past sexual exploits.

And now... She was not sure what he was saying. That he wouldn't mind should Triss' hands find their way beneath his sheets?

That stung, and the fact it did so made Ciri furiously angry with herself.

She let go of his hand and backed towards the door. "I'll go fetch those chains. See you later."

Kain watched her go, somewhat dumbfounded. Her emotions flared, and he sensed it, but she removed herself too quickly for him to probe for any specific details. Nor did he feel he had the right.

He walked along the wall and went up the stairs to his room.

* * *

In the stables, Ciri located Yennefer's saddlebag and the chains inside.

Sorceresses tended to recoil from dimeritium as though they burned their flesh, but Ciri felt no such discomfort.

She peered around the stable to make sure the workers had gone for the night before she wrapped the chain around one wrist, sensing whether it felt different or not. It didn't. It didn't feel like her magic was suppressed either but she couldn't be sure. Not until she tried.

Ciri wrapped the other end of the chain around her free wrist, closed her eyes, and focused on Fealinn, disappearing in a flash of green.

Fealinn nearly dropped the bowl when Ciri materialized in the center of the kitchen. "Oh gods, my heart! Ciri… Are you all right? What happened?"

Ciri winced. "Sorry. I did not mean to startle you. But I require your assistance again and there are guards stationed at every entrance and exit to the city."

"Oh, of course," Fealinn said, putting the bowl on the shelf and wiping her hands on the kitchen towel. "What is it?"

Ciri held up her hands to show Fealinn the chains, unwrapping them from around her wrists. "Do you know anyone who could transform these chains and cuffs into jewelry for me?"

Fealinn's eyes widened a bit. "Dimeritium, isn't it? Where did you get those?" She looked at Ciri in mild worry. "Have you robbed the Witch Hunters?"

Ciri laughed softly. "No, nothing like that. They were on Yennefer in Emhyr's dungeon. Kain and I got her and Geralt out."

"Oh dear gods, Ciri! Dungeon? Not that it's surprising, considering the Emperor's ways... I hope they are all right."

She sifted through a few boxes in the pantry and came out with a cloth. She held it out to Ciri.

"Put it here. Touching it does me not much good."

"Nature's way?" Ciri asked, placing the chain and cuffs neatly on the cloth and wrapping it for her. "Or is it some curse that gives dimeritium its power?"

"Everything in nature is balance," Fealinn said, accepting the bundle gingerly. "It has a natural ability to dim magic in people, it weakens mages and distorts the concentration and power needed for a person to perform a spell. It has to do with its magnetic properties."

"Why do you think it does not affect me the same way?"

"You're the Elder Blood," Fealinn said. "No one knows much about your kind here in this world, for your ancestry comes from another. But magic you possess must be too powerful for dimeritium to affect it or disbalance it much. You are a mystery, Ciri. And alas, I am not a Sage."

"And the sage I do have is not willing to share much," Ciri said, smiling crookedly.

"Thank you for your help, Fealinn. You are a treasure."

"I'm glad I can help. I shall take it to my contacts and see what I can do. I know a couple of people who can work with it. They would never sell you out, either. Non-humans, you see."

"I appreciate it. I hope you will remember me if there is ever anything I can do for you in return."

The elf smiled, "I appreciate it. Is there anything else I can do? A massage? I bet there must be a lot on your mind, given the circumstances."

"I'm not sure I have the time," Ciri said, peering out the window. "Yennefer and I are going back to Emhyr come morning."

"Perhaps the best would be to get some sleep, then. The sun will rise in a few hours."

Ciri nodded. "I shall make my way back and try to do just that. And leave you to do the same. Goodnight, Fealinn."

"Stay safe, Ciri."

* * *

"Your solution probably won't work on me."

Triss smiled, discarding his shirt on the chair while Geralt lay down on the bed on his stomach. "Not the potion, no," she agreed. "But this one will help you sleep and rest."

She straddled his legs, rubbing the ointment between her palms, and began to rub it in, massaging his muscles from neck and shoulders to his arms and his back. The Witcher closed his eyes and smelled mint, red pepper, chamomile and some other herbs he couldn't quite identify for the mixture was well done and proved to be a good fit. After a bit, his skin felt cool and warm at the same time, which added to the pleasure of her skillful touch.

"I could go with Yennefer and Ciri to Vizima," she offered. "To make sure they don't get ambushed by whatever mages serve Emhyr now."

"I believe they will be all right for as long as he doesn't smell any trickery."

"Aren't you worried he would try to lock Ciri up?"

"I worry all the time, Triss. Doesn't mean I can make it any better with my interference. I figure I have to trust them. Ciri has to meet him. And I would love to be there with her and have her back, but I have things I have to fulfill on my part."

"Oh, Geralt," she sighed, kneading her fingers along his spine so every nerve uncoiled beneath them. "It's going to be all right. I do not intend to alarm you. I only wish to help. You can count on me, don't forget."

"I never do."

"Is that true about Fringilla?"

"Kain said he saw someone in the cells that could be her. He doesn't know her, but given she was in the shackles…"

"I see. It has to be her, then. She was at his court before we lost touch."

"Ciri and Yennefer will get her out of there."

"Good. That would make Philippa more compliant."

Geralt hemmed wistfully, "After everything we have already done, she should be."

"You know her, Geralt. She's bitter and harsh right now, which is understandable for the situation our kind finds itself in these days."

"You still have enough political weight in Kovir to get the dimeritium?"

"Of course. I have allies there. They offered me a place at the court. It still could be mine."

"What keeps you here? Ciri?"

"And you. I couldn't live in peace until I know she is safe and you are… happier."

"I wish you could allow yourself to be safe, Triss. You deserve that court."

He felt her lean in and her cool lips over his ear, "I don't want to be away when my place is here for now. Where you and Ciri are. She is my little sister. Always has been."

Geralt made a quiet sound of acknowledgement, almost drifting off. He was truly tired, and sleep was welcome. He had to get up and go to his room, but it was so hard to move…

_Just another few minutes… and I'll go… _

* * *

Triss came in smelling of some herbal ointment; Kain smelled mint that appeared to be more prominent. There were a few more… Pepper?

She showcased a round wooden jar with the ointment. "Geralt is probably dreaming already. Your turn. I have a potion to ensure your good sleep – you don't have mutations, so it should work." She produced a small vial from her pocket and set it on the table next to the ointment.

"What is in it?" Kain asked.

"Nothing unnatural," Triss smiled. "All herbal, perfectly safe for a druid. Mint, chamomile, cinnamon and cloves."

She poured water into a cup from the pitcher, then added the potion from her vial and held it to him. He took the cup and drank. Triss observed approvingly and opened the ointment jar, scooping some with her fingers and rubbing it between her hands.

Kain added another log to the fireplace, then discarded his shirt upon Triss's instructions and lay down much like Geralt earlier.

She wasn't Fealinn, but her hands didn't lack the skill, he noted. She knew where and how to relieve the muscle tension and how to make it pleasant enough to lull and calm. He closed his eyes, but tried to maintain his guard. Her attempts at probing his mind didn't go unnoticed.

"How does it feel?" she asked. "To have a brother?"

"Strange and not at the same time. Hard to explain. Do you have siblings?"

"No, but there are people who I deem family, some sorceresses I got close with. Yennefer among them. And Ciri is my little sister. I loved her the same day we met. She was such a lovely child. I wish I could have helped her more back then."

"You did all you could."

"Her… issue was unusual," Triss trailed off, adding more ointment to her hands as she moved lower on his back. "Her unbidden gift was too strong, making her and people around her suffer. She said things that instilled fear, and I felt a bit helpless." She paused, indulging in her massage, then asked after a bit, "Has she had any trouble with sleep while with you?"

"She has bad dreams at times, but we all do."

Triss pondered it and how he didn't skip a beat, although she sensed he wasn't saying things as they were. "She used to speak in her sleep. Does it happen?"

"I don't keep watch while she sleeps."

"Oh… of course. I'm sorry. It's a bit intrusive of me. I merely thought you were… together."

"We spent a few nights in the same caves and rooms. But she didn't have any issues."

"It's a relief," Triss said, smiling as if he could see her, rubbing the balm into his waist, her thumbs pressing on each side of the spine along the nerve endings. "Do you like her?"

"What is not to like?"

"Aw, you know what I mean. Of course she is precious. But what is she to you? You changed your life for her. Why?"

Kain contemplated a moment. "I could and wanted to help."

"She likes you not for just helping her, Kain. You two… it's like a miracle. Destiny."

"I don't meditate on destiny much."

"What else would you call it?"

"Why would I want to call anything by any name?"

Triss shrugged wistfully, gliding her hands up his back to his shoulders. "Our minds like order, I suppose. They like to know what is going on. How this or that is called."

"I have no such issues."

She giggled softly. "You and Geralt are more alike than one would think."

"So I've been told."

* * *

Ciri returned to her room at the inn a few seconds later, feeling almost giddy from getting to use her power several times in the same day. It had been a while.

She peered out into the hallway, but it was quiet. Nothing to see, nothing to report, so she lay down atop her bed and attempted to get some more rest.

* * *

Triss had Kain turn over and straddled his thighs, leaning over him to start from the shoulders and chest. Gliding strategically, ever so slightly, against him, she studied his face, noting more and more features that connected to Geralt.

"You do look alike," she murmured. "Even with your dyed hair."

"Or you merely like to see it. New facts shape your sight."

She laughed. "Oh, a smart one, but I'm afraid it has solely to do with your blood. Even though Geralt is mutated, you two haven't lost that little bond."

"And what of it?"

"Mm," she leaned over him, her hands gliding up his stomach to his chest as she did. He felt her breath tickle his chin and mouth. She smelled of raspberry and mint. "You two look too dangerous for every unguarded heart," she whispered, her lips teasing his with feather touch.

Tempted to open his eyes, he realized his eyelids felt too heavy - the potion was beginning to pull him to sleep. His mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. "I've never heard of a sorceress with an unguarded heart."

"There might be many things you haven't heard of yet, Witcher mage."

He felt the warmth of her touch on his lips; he felt her hands, her curling fingers on his sides; fire crackled far away, and her hair tickled his chest…

He slept.


	37. Chapter 37

When Yennefer finally woke, it was without interruption, and it was dawn. She could tell because the usual shadows had been chased from the corners of the bedroom and the candles that had been lit had burned down to their ends.

She sat up, pushing the blankets off her legs, freeing herself of the sheet that had tangled around her, and then carefully got to her feet.

Yennefer walked to the window, saw some people serving at the inn milling around below, and then went in search of her clothes.

She stepped into them, dismissing half of her usual morning routine of moisturizing, removing and reapplying the make-up that had smudged around her eyes.

It was rare that she was seen that way anymore.

By the time Yennefer slipped from Geralt's room, she looked the same as she always did—dressed in black and white, looking fabulous—and was more than ready to follow through with their plan. When she reached the main hall of the inn, no one in her little tribe was there, save for Dandelion and Priscilla who were talking and eating together, arguing about lyrics and the best way to tell of The Witcher's newest adventure.

Priscilla looked up as Yennefer approached, smiling despite the fact that she rarely paid her any mind while Dandelion appeared to focus more intently on his bowl.

"No one's up?"

Priscilla shook her head. "They returned in the wee hours."

Yennefer gave a hem of acknowledgement, allowing her gaze to drift to the male bard who was uncharacteristically quiet. Surprising, considering how eager he was for information on what had happened to them at the palace the day before. You'd think he'd want every perspective he could get.

"Are they well? Geralt never returned to his room."

Priscilla darted a look at Dandelion, refusing in turn to meet her eye now and from the energies coming off of him Yennefer could sense he was ready to flee.

He shot up from his seat.

"Excuse me, but I have a song I must attend to—"

Before he could register that Yennefer had done anything, he was sitting down again, confusion marring his features before a realization and dismay seeped in.

"You're hiding something, Troubadour."

"Why would I ever care—"

Yennefer speared him a bland look, probing at his mind and saw him cringe back, his hands gripping at his head dramatically as though he knew and was trying to prevent it.

"Because you care about Geralt and because if I'm reading your wailing thoughts correctly you're worried I'm going to skin him alive."

"You wouldn't."

No. But if he was eluding to what Yennefer thought he was trying to tell her…

"That wouldn't save you."

He flinched, his eyes darting from Yennefer's face to Priscilla as if to beseech his partner to help him.

"He's upstairs. He's with one of the other witches. Triss, I believe."

That shouldn't and didn't alarm Yennefer initially but with how they were acting, she was supposed to assume that whatever had happened had extended beyond talks of strategy.

"Is there any breakfast?"

Priscilla nodded, ever so helpful, and got to her feet, disappearing into the kitchens to collect of what she'd thrown together. Dandelion remained to look at Yennefer with something akin to pity and wonder.

* * *

Ciri didn't sleep, and when she thought she heard movement out in the hall, got off her bed and peered outside. No one was there, but it was possible Yennefer was awake. If she was up, they'd be leaving soon.

Ciri headed over to Kain's room and stepped inside, freezing in the doorway when she caught sight of Triss straddling a seemingly sleeping Kain.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Triss asked nonchalantly, stroking her hands lightly down his chest and stomach before slipping off him. She picked up the ointment jar off the table and showcased it to Ciri before closing it. "They need a good, enhanced rest, and I helped like I said I would."

"Sealed with a kiss, is it?" Ciri asked suspiciously, stepping out of the doorway.

Triss smiled in a confused fashion. "What is that supposed to mean, darling?"

"The way you look at him, the way you touch him... With a hunger. Like you do Geralt," Ciri remarked. "You fancy him?"

Triss frowned subtly, collecting her jar and vial from the table, then looked back at the sleeping man as if with a sort of wonder. When she met Ciri's gaze, her lips widened in a smile that was girlish, bubbly, as if they were back at Kaer Morhen, the two sisters gossiping about romance and dreams.

"Ah, Ciri, my love! I, like every other woman in the world of magic, fall a victim to beauty and charm. Who wouldn't fancy either of them? Would you judge me for having a certain taste?"

"If you act on it, knowing what you know – yes," Ciri said. "I see how it is with you, Geralt, and Yennefer. Him in the middle, you and Yennefer always at odds..."

Hurt came through Triss's features. "Geralt is a grown man capable of deciding for himself, and I hold no power over his choices. Nor anyone else's but my own. I haven't been anything but a friend for him. You have nothing to accuse me of this time, Ciri. I would never want either of them to be unhappy - let alone because of me. It would make me miserable. I love them both dearly and would give my life for each. And you, my love."

"And the same goes for him," Ciri said, gesturing to Kain. "He has every right to make his own choices. He will. So I am asking you, if you have similar… urges… towards him… to not act on them while you know how I feel. If you must, then please wait until I am no longer here to watch."

Triss studied her with a perfectly executed innocence of astonishment. "How would I know how you feel when you never told me? I do not venture with reading what doesn't lie in my own head when it comes to my closest people."

Ciri gave her a knowing look. "You do know. Hell, even Geralt has figured it out and he's usually blind as a bat when it comes to these things."

Triss blinked, looking stung once again. "But, Ciri, he spends way more time with you. And maybe you're more open with him - I haven't had the same honor. You didn't really answer my questions about him back at the keep, but rather denied my suggestions of romance. So has it changed? You love him now?"

"I... I feel for him. I like him so very much."

Love? That seemed too much too soon. Too big of an endeavor. Would Ciri even recognize such a feeling?

"And he knows. I told him."

"Oh, Ciri," Triss sighed with a smile simultaneously warm and sympathetic. "He said you weren't together, nor did he mention romance. I'm so very sorry if I misinterpreted his answer. I do not wish to stand between two happy hearts. I desire to find my own."

"We're not... happy hearts," Ciri murmured, frowning. "We're confused," she gestured to herself. "And completely avoiding the topic." A gesture in Kain's direction this time. "But I would really like to figure it out without a crowd of beautiful women throwing themselves at him."

Smiling, Triss wrapped her arms gently around Ciri, still holding her jar and vial in hands. "My precious Ciri, I would love so much for you to find your answers and happiness. I wish it for you with all my heart. But I wouldn't be your faithful sister had I not tell you the truth, however bitter, so you wouldn't be confused and mistaken: wherever he goes, there will always be heaps of beautiful women trying to claim his heart and body, for the same has been happening in his brother's life. He's too desirable for anyone to stay blind about it.

"Women of beauty and power, of storms and magic, sorceresses or queens... We may rule the world and kings' hands, Ciri. But we still don't always get chosen by those we want."

She kissed Ciri's cheek and strolled out of the room.

Ciri's arms were stiff at her sides as Triss hugged her, her courage and hope draining from her the more the sorceress spoke. Like it was a cause too impossible to even attempt.

She swallowed when Triss let her go, and trailed her with her gaze. I do hope one of those women won't be the one who considers me a sister, Ciri wanted to say but didn't. She let her go. And then Ciri left as well.

* * *

Some time later, when the sun had risen, Ciri headed downstairs and found Yennefer alone at a table having her breakfast.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, taking a seat opposite the sorceress, adjusting the sword strapped to her back.

"Why the rush, Sparrow?"

Yennefer could tell Ciri was angry, perhaps even a bit disappointed as her stance and energy was pure defensiveness. Probably not to dissimilar from Yennefer's own.

Ciri shrugged. "I'd like to get this over with so I can go back to fantasizing about driving my sword through The Hunt's cold hearts.

"As would I." Yennefer pushed aside the plate. "Would you not rather go with a full stomach?"

Ciri glanced towards the kitchens. "I'll take something to eat on the road. I've become quite skilled at it."

Yennefer nodded, got to her feet and cast a glance within the direction of the rooms. "Perhaps we should inform Geralt of our plans."

"I believe Triss has put both him and Kain to sleep. But if you wish..." Ciri gestured for her to go ahead, buckling the straps on her jerkin.

"_And_ Kain?"

Triss was brazen. Yennefer had always known that about her.

"No bother. Let's go. We'll ride some of the way. We'll take your mare?"

"Can you get us out of the city gate without being detected?" Ciri asked, moving over to the bar counter and helping herself to a piece of bread, wrapping it in a cloth napkin and slipping it down the bag at her hip.

"Unfortunately, not undetected. I could disguise us. Temporarily."

Ciri paused to reconsider. "Perhaps best to let someone know we are leaving. In case trouble should strike." She wasn't sure if Emhyr would be able to confine her if he wished, but she did not want to find out. "Where is Dandelion?"

"He went to write his latest ballad."

Yennefer broke away from the table, scanning the area in search of the blonde.

"He must have taken his little bird with him. They were here. Outside?"

"Let us check."

They headed outside but neither Dandelion nor Priscilla were in immediate view. Ciri headed for the stable to ready Kelpie and leave her bag with her when she found the two kissing heavily in the saddle-room.

Ciri cleared her throat awkwardly, trying to capture their attention while waving Yennefer over. "Found them."

Yennefer trailed Ciri outside, into the stables, and then came to stand beside her, envying the couple locked in what appeared to be a passionate embrace.

She raised a hand, gave the slightest motion of her hand and heard them yelp as they broke apart as if by a crazy gust of wind.

Dandelion looked startled and then annoyed. Priscilla appeared to have started the same way, her lips puffy from their kissing.

"Ciri and I are on our way to talk to the Emperor."

"Now?" Dandelion sputtered, swiping at his mouth.

"As good a time as any," Yennefer said, turning away from him, encouraging Ciri to get her Kelpie saddled and ready.

"Let Geralt and Kain know when they wake?" Ciri asked of him before turning to tend to Kelpie. "You're bringing a horse of your own, Yen?"

"Sure," Yennefer said.

She turned her focus on Dandelion and saw him flinch.

"You can't expect me—"

"I do."

"You've two capable hands of your own!"

Also Yennefer could tell he was somewhat uncomfortable as certain areas of his body had come alive during his time with Priscilla.

"It's your stable."

Yennefer turned away from him and moved to join Ciri while she waited for Dandelion to saddle a horse.

"You can't—"

Yennefer turned back and snapped her fingers, watching the blonde woman disappear from view, transformed into a scabby little toad. Dandelion's mouth gaped, his nose wrinkled with disgust while equally eager to make sure she didn't get away and angry. It would have been more satisfying had it been Triss.

"I suggest you hurry before I decide to keep her slimy until our return."

"Yennefer!" Ciri exclaimed, her eyes wide at her display of magic. "Priscilla is our friend, for goodness sake! Turn her back. I will saddle your horse."

Another snap of Yennefer's fingers and Priscilla appeared as she was. Only this time her expression was that of mystification.

Dandelion drifted to her side, taking a hold of her elbow, trying to make sure there wasn't any lasting effects that might have injured her.

"Thank you," Yennefer mused and regarded Ciri.

Ciri shook her head and finished with Kelpie so she could move on to Yennefer's horse.

"This may be why you rub people the wrong way," Ciri said, retrieving another saddle and placing it atop the horse's back. "You know, the threatening and then the... following through."

"Perhaps," Yennefer agreed. "If you don't follow through on your word people take liberties and tramp over you."

Like Triss.

Did she now know that he'd lost his memory? And why her sudden interest in the boy as anything more than a Ciri power replacement?

Yennefer had warned them, though, hadn't she?

Dandelion took Priscilla who was looking at the sorceress with interest, walking her back toward the inn to continue what they were doing privately.

"Maybe save it for someone other than our allies and friends," Ciri suggested, moving on to fix the bridle, silent until she finished. "What do you think will meet us in Vizima?"

"Maybe." But sometimes it was easier to take it out on your friends. "Stubbornness and entitlement. Are you ready to face off with Emhyr?"

"I am always ready for battle. I am simply not certain of my strategy yet."

Ciri led the horse to Yennefer and let her take the reins before returning to Kelpie so she could lead her outside as well.

Yennefer took the reins and fluidly hoisted herself into the saddle. "The ride will give you a little time."

She lured the horse to her side and wiggled her fingers in suggestion.

"Give me your hand."

Ciri watched her hand, bemused. "I can climb up on my own. It's alright."

"Your hand," Yennefer demanded, lips twitching slightly at her misinterpretation.

Ciri obeyed once she was straddling Kelpie, reaching out to place her hand in hers.

Yennefer closed her fingers around Ciri's, concentrating on what she could recall of the faces outside the fences and safety of the inn.

With a single utterance of an incantation and a push of magic, they were temporarily encased with a mask, one Yennefer knew they could see in each other and represented travelers.

"We don't have long before it wears off."

She hoped that it would get them far enough out of Novigrad and away. She wanted to save some of her strength for the ride and the palace itself.

Ciri urged Kelpie to move, Yennefer's warning not going unnoticed.

They made it past the guards with surprising ease and once they were out of sight and the glamour fell away, they set off at a quick pace, racing down the roads leading to Vizima.

Once the palace was seen in the near distance, Yennefer drew her horse to a stop and encouraged Ciri to do the same.

"This should be far enough."

"How far can you get us?" Ciri climbed off Kelpie and loosened her saddle and bridle, allowing her to wander and eat.

"All the way inside." Yennefer studied the palace. "Into his room."

Ciri stared at her. "There will be wards up, won't there?"

"Can we be sure?"

Yennefer brought her hands together, closed her eyes, trying to see ahead, trying to probe the outside of the walls that surrounded Vizima.

"Seems Geralt and Kain were exactly right. I can get us as far as the main hall."

"Alright," Ciri breathed. "Let us go see the Emperor."

Yennefer nodded and drew back for a moment, spearing Ciri with a look. "If even for a minute he tries to approach you, or anyone else – we leave."

Yennefer was not going to be overpowered and locked away again.

"I will get us out if necessary," Ciri nodded.

Yennefer fixed her with one more look, dreading returning to the man so soon but also wanting to look him in the eyes, to prove he couldn't hold her back.

She drew in a breath in preparation, wove her hands through the air, focusing on an image of the main hall and then brought forth the golden light to carry them in.

She waited until Ciri walked in ahead and then followed after.

Ciri stepped into the portal and appeared in the palace. The room was beautiful. Elegant, with its tall ceiling and columns, scattered with pretty people in pretty clothing chatting idly.

Most of them gasped the moment they saw them arrive, the women clutching their jewelry to their chests as though worried Ciri and Yennefer were going to steal it, while a few of the men placed themselves in front of them protectively. It wasn't long before the guards' attention was caught and they rushed towards the newcomers with swords drawn.

Ciri instantly drew her own weapon and declared loudly: "I am Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Heiress to the throne of Cintra, and I am here in response to Emperor Emhyr's decree I come see him."

Everyone paused, hesitated, and looked between one another.

The portal closed and Yennefer was able to relax, to reenergize and observe the room, the people who'd appeared stunned by their intrusion and the guards. They wouldn't get close. No one would – not this time.

Yennefer's eyes glowed as one of them tried to advance.

The mages were close but none of them had reacted – not physically.

"Daughter," Emhyr's familiar voice interjected with a cut of authority, eased through the crowd, forcing them all to quieten down. "Yennefer. You've returned and I see you've had the good sense to make sure that Cirilla take heed of my invitation."

Yennefer said nothing, refusing to open her mouth, leaving it to Ciri for the time being to get what she needed off her chest so that they could claim their pardons and leave.

He hadn't changed much since Ciri last saw him, though Emhyr did carry the mild signs of ageing.

Ciri reluctantly sheathed her sword now the guards had ceased their advance and met the emperor's gaze.

"I am here like you demanded. So... what do you want?"

"To see you. To make sure that my heir is alive, unhurt and healthy."

Emhyr stepped forward from between his men and people, his face an unreadable mask.

"Everyone out," he demanded in a voice that bordered no argument.

Yennefer stiffened.

He waited until the people had been shown out and all that remained were his guards.

Ciri remained close to Yennefer but made absolutely certain not to hide behind her. She didn't want to show how uncomfortable she was.

There were several things Ciri wanted to tell him. Most of them she wanted to scream. But they needed the pardons. She did not have the luxury of being a brat.

"I am alive, unhurt, and healthy. Satisfied?"

"Hardly," Emhyr said, his eyes scanning the length of her body, her attire, before coming to settle on her face and the scar. "Looks like you weren't as unscarred as I was led to believe."

Yennefer didn't meet his eyes, didn't care to, she was focused on the mages she sensed, on the power emanating from them and the guards she knew had more chains to neutralize her.

Ciri couldn't stop a bitter smile. "Your man did this," she said, gesturing at her scarred face. "Stefan Skellen, remember? You charged him with capturing me. Only he changed his mind and decided to kill me instead."

Emhyr's features changed and darkened with anger.

"Then I am only troubled that, when I strung him up by his neck, I hadn't made him suffer more before he died."

Emhyr stepped toward her, and Yennefer mimicked him, violet eyes blazing a warning that he keep his distance. He ignored the sorceress completely.

Ciri didn't move, though she was tempted to put more distance between them. "Can we get to the point of this visit? Quite busy these days, you see."

Emhyr's cold eyes narrowed cunningly. "So I've been told. Which makes me wonder why you have yet to ask me for help. I can protect you, Cirilla. I can keep you safe."

Once more Ciri wanted to curse him and point out all the flaws in that statement. And once more she barely managed to resist.

"Yes, you can help me," Ciri agreed, lowering her gaze ever so slightly. "And that is why I have come."

"Good," Emhyr remarked, his gaze surveying her approvingly. "I have an army at my disposal. No one will be able to get to you without going through them."

Ciri shook her head. "No. No, that is not what I meant." She looked to Yennefer. "That is not what we came for."

"We need pardons," Yennefer said. "Four."

"Dare I ask who?" Emhyr said coldly without taking his eyes off his daughter.

Yennefer straightened up, thrusting out her chest somewhat.

"The Lodge."

Emhyr scoffed. "Ridiculous. They plot to unseat me."

Yennefer made no attempt to deny that.

"Yet they've promised to help your daughter. To help us defeat The Wild Hunt."

"At a great cost," Emhyr stated, averting his gaze to Yennefer for a long moment, one that relayed how little he appreciated her antiques, before returning his gaze to his daughter. "I've mages of my own, men and women, all willing and ready to lay their lives on the line for their Princess – their future Empress."

"I'd rather have mages who aren't prepared to die at all," Ciri commented. "The sorceresses of the Lodge are the very best. The most powerful."

"And they would just as soon turn on you as they would protect you," Emhyr interrupted, his eyes still fixed on Yennefer. When he turned to look at his daughter, his face had softened ever so slightly. "Trust me, Cirilla – I have fought and won many battles. I know what must be done and I know how to keep you safe."

Ciri sneered. "Locked up, you mean?"

Emhyr did not deny it.

What an absolute wanker, Ciri thought as she strode forth, purposely closing the distance between them, ignoring the guards who tensed behind the Emperor.

"You took everything from me," she growled, staring up into Emhyr's cold eyes. "My mother, my grandmother, condemned me to a life on the run... If you have any decency left in you, you will do this for me."

"I did it all for us to be together through everything," Emhyr said with feeling. "My plans were ruined, but I never stopped looking for you. You are my daughter, we are bound by blood and destiny and duty. You have to accept it. You cannot run away from it. Once you realize that, I will do anything you ask from me, Cirilla."

"I am already bound to another," Ciri said, backing away from the Emperor and turning to Yennefer. "We will get nowhere here. Let's go."

"You will be back, Cirilla," Emhyr said. "One way or another, you will be back, because you cannot do without my aid. You know it. Your royal pride doesn't let you admit to it."

Yennefer had remained uncharacteristically quiet during their exchange, speaking only when necessary, obediently preparing to summon her portal at Ciri's suggestion.

"I do need it," Ciri agreed, whirling around to face him again, green eyes flaring with emotion. "But you will not give it! You are just like the rest of them, like the ones who pursue me now. Everything you all care about is this damned blood! Royal! Elder! And by denying me what I need all you will achieve is watching said blood spill on the battlefield."

"Your place is not on the battlefield, daughter," Emhyr stepped closer to her. "It's on the throne where you were meant to be. Your legacy is to rule the people who have always waited for you to return to them. People who loved your grandmother whose legacy you have to carry. There is no one else to lift that off your shoulders."

"Don't you dare speak to me of grandmother! Or pretend that you care about her people – the people you cut down and mercilessly left in the gutters. I remember. I watched it all happen. And they remember, too. The people of Cintra. And they hate you for it. And that is why you need me. Because you think I will somehow soothe their anger and hatred." Ciri barely managed to keep herself from prodding the Emperor's chest with a finger. "My place is with the witchers and the mages, with the people who need protection from monsters. I never belonged at court."

"You were born into court, Cirilla Fiona, and that is thicker than any faint illusion you're indulging of how you could one day become equal to a witcher or a mage. That has never been your path, and Geralt understood it from the very start. This is why he denied his right enough times to break that bond. He knew you could never be like him. Calanthe knew it. Everybody knew it. But you have always been a stubborn child. Royally stubborn. I do enjoy your character, daughter. I am proud of you. I trust you will eventually see the error of your way and fulfill your duty. Your blood will always belong on the throne. Deep down, you know it. Geralt knows it. Calanthe knew it. And so did I."

"You know nothing about me or what I am capable of," Ciri said coldly before turning to Yennefer again, signaling for her to open the portal. "We are leaving."

Emhyr displayed the smallest of smiles utterly devoid of humor. "No pardons that you need, then?"

Ciri set her jaw to keep from snarling. "I asked. You declined. What more is there?"

"You wish for something I can give you," he mused. "And I wish for something only you can give. We can help each other. Like family. Like allies. I would like that."

A cold shiver rippled down Ciri's spine at those words and she needed a moment to compose herself before she was able to turn and face him again, feigning courage. "Name your terms."

Emhyr gave a subtle, nonchalant shrug. "You fight that battle of yours and then return to me - alone - to talk. No one else, just you and me, honest and open, like father and daughter. I want that. And for that you can have pardons and a unit of my men to fight for you."

Ciri searched his gaze, trying to decipher whether his words were straightforward or laced with some ulterior meaning. This was the man who had once intended to marry her and make her have his children, after all. Had he truly put that intention aside or was he just pretending?

Eventually, she gave the slightest of nods. There was not much of an option. They needed the pardons.

"And Fringilla," she added after a moment's consideration. "Give me the pardons and the sorceress you keep in your dungeons, and I will return here should I survive the upcoming battle. With a more open mind."

Emhyr smiled, with more of a genuine amusement. "You do know how to make demands, daughter. I do admire that. However, a sorceress who's locked up for treason is worth more than your return to talk. It's more on the side of an official coronation of the Princess of Cintra and Nilfgaard."

"No deal," Ciri said immediately. "I cannot make such a promise at this time. Too much, too soon. The pardons it is, then."

"Very well," he nodded. "You have them."

She did not have it in her to thank him, and instead simply replicated his nod.

When Emhyr did not make another move, she spoke. "The papers. We will need proof."

"You shall have them," he said and made an inviting gesture. "In my library, if you please." And began to walk away.

Ciri threw a glance at Yennefer, then reluctantly followed. His library was far more inviting than the main hall, but the familiar painting of Ciri as a child hanging over the fireplace soured it all. It had once hung in Calanthe's bedroom. Emhyr must have taken it from the castle.

"I had never known that girl as closely as I wished to," he remarked, seeing her attention to the painting. "I wish to rekindle that tie. I have never forgotten your dear mother and her wonderful heart. I always wished to know you."

He listed the names and signed the parchment, then stamped the royal seal on it. He rolled it up and held it out to Ciri, his eyes searching her.

"You may not understand nor believe me, Cirilla, but you two have always been dear to me. My destiny. My surprise."

Ciri took the scrolls of parchment and clutched them tightly in her hand.

"You are right," she said. "I don't believe you. I have no reason to. And yet I will keep my word and return here once The Hunt is gone."

"I shall wait for it," he nodded. "My regards to your... witchers."

She did not respond to that. She simply turned on her heels and strode back outside, returning to Yennefer as quickly as she was able without breaking into a run. "Now, finally, let's leave. This place makes me uncomfortable."

Yennefer had stood in the middle of the main hall like a statue, all eyes focused on her, on her hands in particular until Ciri returned. She nodded and summoned their portal to carry them back to their horses and waited on Ciri to step through before heading in after her.

They'd appeared beside their horses seconds later.

"You've the pardons. What about Fringilla?"

Ciri shook her head, reaching for Kelpie so she could put the scrolls into her saddlebags. "You heard him. I am not willing to pay the price he demands for her."

"I assumed he might have tried another round of negotiation."

At least they could return with the pardons.

Yennefer took the reins of her horse and hoisted herself onto the creature's back.

"You handled yourself well in there. I'm proud of you."

"I was trying to be polite," Ciri admitted, climbing into Kelpie's saddle. "That failed horribly."

Yennefer nudged her horse into movement so that they could head back.

"You got the pardons. That's what matters."

"What are we going to do about Fringilla? We can't free her ourselves. Emhyr will retract the pardons."

"I agree. There's too many mages for us to take on alone. We'll talk to Geralt and Kain. See what their thought is. Maybe The Lodge will take it upon themselves now that we know for sure where she is."

"Not sure they can do much, either, if they want to keep their pardons. Should Fringilla suddenly disappear from his dungeons, Emhyr will know who freed her."

"For one of their own they might not care about that."

"They would prioritize Fringilla over their freedom?" Ciri doubted that. Though she did not know any of the sorceresses as well as Yennefer did.

"Triss would."

Yennefer nudged the horse into a trot, putting distance between them and Vizima.

"Philippa might."

When she was sure they were ready, she sped up, hopeful to get them back to Novigrad as soon as, pausing just long enough outside to glamour them once more.

Like last time, the glamour worked perfectly. The guards at the gate looked them over but did not require papers or any further proof they were not the girl everyone was looking for. Probably because Yennefer had given the illusion they were both ageing, overweight men.

Back at the inn, Ciri led the horses into the stable, allowing Yennefer to proceed inside ahead of her.

* * *

"And you believe those crates would be enough?" Dandelion watched the two witchers stack six crates of dimeritium in the inn's pantry, rubbing his chin with an expression of either irony or despair.

"Only the battle shall tell," Geralt said, wiping his brow with a sleeve.

"When I'm done with 'em, ye can tell," Zoltan put in, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of work. "Tis goin' to be a long day."

"Right," Dandelion yawned, scratching his head. "I don't believe I'm needed for any of this, because I'd be no good, really. I will pass out any moment now, so I shall leave you, warriors and alchemists, to it while I get my desperately needed beauty sleep." He went for the door, then halted and twirled around pointing a finger at the dwarf: "Do not blow this inn up, you hear me?"

Zoltan faked a heartbreaking hurt, spreading his arms, "When did I ever? How ye wound me, ye silly yapping goose. I never tell ya yer ballads make less sense than the cultists' preachin."

"Because my ballads are the gods' gifts to all the living, sentient beings, and your… chemicals don't mix with your love for mead. So… all drinking after those bombs." He turned to the Witcher, "Geralt, you said something about Dijkstra wanting to relieve us of those, um, supplies – will he?"

Geralt restrained his amusement and shrugged. "Why, when we can make the bombs right here? He'll be relieving the Witch Hunters of their stock."

"Soon enough," Triss confirmed from the doorway, her arms folded. "No priests on the streets today – all of them replaced by his hired men riling people up against the witch hunts and executions. Seems they gather people just the same."

"Ah, those senseless mobs," Dandelion sighed dramatically. "It only works until another performer arrives and they gape away forgetting all about the one before him."

"If that were true, you'd still be a nobody that can hardly sing," Geralt remarked, smirking.

Dandelion grimaced and waved a hand, strolling away. "Do not wake me until it's dinner time," he called.

"Dinner is too far away," Triss sighed. "I could do with a lunch. Those portals take a lot."

"Agreed," Geralt said, following her back into the Inn's main hall through the kitchen. Triss stopped with the maids to discuss the menu while the witchers proceeded out and for the tables.

"They're not back yet," Kain said while Geralt fished a bottle of Erveluce from under the counter and went after his brother to the table he had picked.

"Soon enough now, I hope. Otherwise we have to go there. I don't suppose you know how to… travel like Ciri does?"

Kain shook his head. "I'm not even sure I can on my own. I never did it… consciously."

"It's all right. I hate all magic that takes me from one place to another without Roach beneath me. Can't help but think how next time I can lose a part or three on the way. Won't be grand."

Kain laughed. "Not at all."

"All set, and lunch's coming within half an hour," Triss announced exiting the kitchen and, upon glimpsing the bottle, snatched three cups on her way, and settled with the witchers. She watched them shrewdly, smiling, while Geralt poured the wine, then said, "You truly are alike, now that I know what I see. Remarkable."

They exchanged brief glances, but said nothing.

"It's just… a bit strange," she smiled a bit apologetically, toying with her cup. "Geralt has a brother. And here's me who it's strange for. It must be ten times as much for either of you."

"I think the strange part is wearing out," Geralt said, taking a sip of his wine.

"We're entering the field of habit now," added Kain.

Triss beamed and raised her cup, "For family. The very thing to always fight for."

They saluted to her toast and drank.

* * *

Yennefer gave Ciri a nod while she tended and returned their horses to the stable, sauntering into the inn, scowling at the sight that met her.

Triss and the witchers all smiles and laughing. Yennefer was wracked with envy.

Ciri followed Yennefer inside a short time later, after emptying the saddlebags and handing the horses over to one of the stable boys.

She found the sorceress still lingering by the entrance, yet to be seen by the table of witchers and redheaded witch. Giving Yennefer's elbow an encouraging squeeze, Ciri made her way over to the others.

The heavy weight of worry dissipated as soon as Geralt saw Ciri and Yennefer stroll toward their table. Triss got up and went to get more cups and add some orders in the kitchen while the two settled. She was back very quickly.

"How did it go?" she asked while Geralt poured them wine.

"Got the pardons," Ciri said, taking a seat next to Kain and pulling the scrolls from her bag to place on the table. "But not Fringilla."

The Witcher frowned catching Kain's glance. "That could be a problem."

"It most certainly is," Philippa said approaching with Margarita in tow. They sat down and summoned cups and a carafe of wine. "Why is that so, may I ask?"

"There's not enough of us, we need her," added Margarita.

"Is she even there?" asked Triss. "Who knows for sure?"

"I was not willing to pay the price for her release," Ciri told Philippa, taking a sip of the wine Geralt had poured her.

"What did he want?" Kain asked.

"I dare assume he merely wanted you to fulfill your destiny," Philippa said, a small biting smile tugging on her lips.

Geralt's face darkened, but he said nothing.

"An official coronation," Ciri told Kain, purposely avoiding Philippa's gaze. "I can't promise him such a thing. Nor do I want to."

"You don't have to," Geralt said, leaning over Kain to squeeze her shoulder. "He just wants to corner you."

"He just wants to save her," Philippa said. If she had eyes, they would be blazing with lightning. "Her life and those people who depend on his throne and power. Ciri as Empress would save not only herself, but all the people and sorcerers and non-humans she claims to care about. It is the only way to change what you, Ciri, want to change in this world."

"At least think about it, Ciri," Margarita added in a softer tone Philippa didn't care for.

"All Ciri needs to think about momentarily is surviving The Wild Hunt," Yennefer interjected, tone hard, suggesting that the other two sorceresses back off.

"No one is arguing that fact," Triss added emerging from the kitchens. "All they're saying is that it's an option. You know what politics are like."

Yennefer did, that didn't mean she cared to force it onto to someone, especially someone that she loved and who hadn't the most pleasant of tie to that setting.

"That's not what we're here to talk about," Yennefer snipped.

"You're right, we're talking about Fringilla," Philippa retorted. "One of our own left to rot."

Yennefer stared blankly. "There was no way to get her out safely and to take her would have overruled the pardons Ciri had already managed to secure for you," she stated.

"Had it been one of your own," Philippa pointed out coolly, "I'm sure you'd have found a way."

Ciri smiled at the sorceresses, but it was void of warmth. "You are all idiots if you think Emhyr intends to give me his throne. He wants me on display, looking pretty and supporting his causes. To wear what he tells me to wear, to speak the words he whispers in my ear while remaining silent about the matters that are actually important.

"As for Fringilla..." Ciri eyed Philippa speculatively. "Perhaps you have something of your own to offer the Emperor? A bargaining chip for her freedom?"

"What can we possibly have?" Philippa snapped. "He only wants you. And let us get real about the facts here, Cirilla: no one can make you rule the way you wouldn't want - you have the power beyond his imagination and you would follow your own choices. And that is exactly what this land needs. We all need someone who would stop the executions and witch hunts, who would finally allow magic and the kingdoms to thrive. This is how you can help this world, Ciri. This is what is required of you. Your true destiny: to destroy the old and build the new."

"What makes you think I am fit to rule anyone?" Ciri asked. "Blood? That is hardly enough. I would make a poor and reluctant leader and everyone would suffer for it."

"No one will suffer more than they already do since the fall of the kingdoms to Nilfgaard," Margarita said. "Your blood was destined, Ciri. You were born for a reason. It was clear from the start."

"It's true," Philippa nodded. "You are meant to change the world for the better. You will never be able to escape your destiny."

Ciri shook her head and stood. "You're placing your hope on the wrong person," she said somberly and headed for the stairs, climbing them rapidly so she could get to her room.

Geralt glared at Philippa. "So very subtle, great job."

"There's no time left for subtlety, Witcher," Philippa snarled. "That naughty girl has to rise to her duty one of these days before the whole Continent goes to hell."

"This girl will live the way she wants to," Geralt uttered menacingly, rising, and went after Ciri.

"She will ruin everything she loves if she runs from herself," Philippa called after him.

Triss shook her head, looking sad.

"It wasn't supposed to be pressure," Margarita said. "She needs to listen and think about it, not run further."

"Ah, nonsense," Philippa scoffed. "That baby has to grow up."


	38. Chapter 38

In her room, Ciri removed her sword and shrugged out of her jerkin, releasing her hair from its ties. The tension had added a slight discomfort to her scalp and she wanted to relieve herself of it.

What she really wanted was a bath. A warm bath that could rinse the day away and drown unpleasant thoughts. But she'd need Dandelion, Priscilla, or Zoltan for that and she did not feel like going on a quest to find any of them.

So she moved over to the window instead, climbing out to perch on the roof like she had a few nights earlier, basking in the sun as though she had no concerns while they were secretly eating her up inside.

Ciri's room was empty when Geralt entered, and only the open window somewhat cleared the Witcher's confusion. He peeked out and looked at the street, then up at the rim of the roof.

"Ciri?"

She turned her head and met his gaze. "Yes?"

He faked a reprimanding scowl. "You know I'm too old for all this climbing."

"Really?" She smiled impishly. "Those joints starting to hurt?"

He made a face, "Gods forbid. What happened at the palace?"

Ciri's smile faltered a little and she shrugged. "What I expected to happen. Only with less violence. He and Philippa sound very alike, speaking of blood and destiny and duty. Though I suspect they both have different motives."

He didn't bother climbing after her and merely settled on the windowsill.

"Of course their motives won't be the same. But in some way, they might not be wrong. Not completely. What Philippa says about your wish to be a witcher… It does worry me. You are human, and it's immensely more dangerous for you than for someone bred for it. However, Kain managed to adapt. If you both are Elder Blood…" He shrugged, looking over the reddish roofs of the city.

"My reluctance to be Empress has nothing to do with my wish to work as a Witcher. I simply do not want to. I am not suited for it. I should not be allowed to have such power over people's lives. It is unhealthy and I am certain it would turn me into someone I would not like. And I would be trapped – again. Bound by duty. Is it so selfish of me to want something more? To travel? To see all these other worlds I have access to?"

"It just so happened that you do have a certain power over people's lives, Ciri," Geralt said wistfully. "Be it your royal bloodline or magical one that allows you to vaporize those you deem enemies. And even though you wish for freedom, there is hardly a way to achieve it, for no one will ever stop chasing you for this reason or that."

"So I should just give in?" she asked, brow furrowed in concern. "Condemn myself to absolute misery?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "It's useless to ask me about it, for I never had another choice other than to give in to what was made of me. I cannot tell anyone what to do with their lives and whether they have a choice or not. Sometimes it only seems that we do."

"I have a choice. No one can keep me here against my will," Ciri said, resting her chin on her knee, eyeing the city below. "I simply need to figure out if the guilt of it would do me in or not."

"I do hope you have a choice," Geralt murmured, a line still deep between his eyebrows as he observed the city and the sky above it. "I hope it is a choice and not an illusion of such... I trust you'll choose the right thing, Ciri. I have to trust it."

Quietly, he slipped off the windowsill and headed for the door.

She watched him leave for as long as she was able before she turned back to the view again, brow still furrowed. No matter his words, Ciri could not help but feel she was letting Geralt down.

Perplexed, Geralt slowly descended the stairs and found their table already set up with the hot meals.

Kain sent him an inquiring look, Geralt gave an imperceptible shrug.

"We don't want her to be unhappy," Triss said when Geralt sat at the table. "We merely want her to be happy. And being happy while hunted and chased is impossible."

"You know Emhyr, Geralt," Margarita added, forking her fried eggs with bacon and onions. "He won't rest until he gets what he wants. Think of how it would influence her life and the freedom she craves. There will be no peaceful moment."

"We have the Wild Hunt attacking Novigrad in three days," Kain pointed out between the forkfuls. "That is the problem right now."

"Finally, some sense and reason," Yennefer added from where she'd been mulling things over, pushing her food around the plate. "Do we have any plans in place?"

"Our plans included Fringilla," Philippa said, sipping wine. "We cannot do much just the four of us. We need five - it's a more powerful magical setting."

"What do you suggest we do?" Geralt inquired. "Sell Ciri for what she doesn't want to do? She won't do it - as simple as that. None of you, four or five, can make her do what she doesn't want to do."

"She has to listen to voices of reason while she still can," Philippa said. "Because while crying on the ruins of the city over your dead body or her own life seeping out of her, it will be too late to replay the game."

"We can make it without Fringilla," the Witcher insisted. "We'll bring Avallac'h if we have to."

"Or you could talk to your ward and negotiate with the Emperor," suggested Margarita, smiling a bit seductively. "You do have a talent for being heard, Geralt. You have to give it a try."

"No," Yennefer interjected sharply. "We will not choke Ciri on any more talk of responsibly and prophecy. She's had more than enough for today. She got you one part of what you wanted, it's time you help us come up with an alternate solution."

Yennefer speared Margarita with a withering glare.

"What about Mousesack?

"He's in Skellige, where he belongs," Kain said. "I don't suppose we can drag everyone we had at the keep to die here. We will have to do with what we have."

"We have a ploughing nothing," Philippa said. "Three battered sorceresses, one traitorous enchantress from Vengerberg, a young druid witcher rumored to be of Elder Blood, another whimsical Elder Blood girl and the famous Witcher of Rivia."

"And the infamous Redanian Spy with whatever he wishes to help with," Margarita added.

Geralt smiled nastily at them, "And it's somehow not enough?"

Philippa responded with a cold glower. "It will be if you lose the Lodge. We want to free Fringilla. I get Yennefer's reservation based on selfishness, scorned pride and jealousy, but you, Witcher, of all people! Have all the feelings passed without a trace?"

"I don't suppose we'd have to if we had a choice," Yennefer said, directing a glance at Kain. "But the Lodge are trying to make us believe that Fringilla is the end all and that Ciri needs to sacrifice herself for them. As they've always wanted."

Philippa didn't even bother to look at her, Margarita had the audacity to look slightly affronted and Triss deceptively guilty.

"That isn't true. I understand their need to get her out but presently, it is not going to happen. What we do know is that he won't kill her, especially now that he knows Ciri has some interest in her and he can use her to bargain."

"And yet you are willing to leave her there to rot!" Philippa stated. "Nice for you to be at such ease with other people's lives when your own ass has been saved from those stinking dungeons. Perhaps it's such a silly inconvenience in your eyes that you're willing to trade your own life for hers? Just to show us that it's no hard work to be stuck in Emhyr's cells."

"That won't be necessary," Kain said. "I can return for her."

"There will be more mages guarding her now that he knows we need her," Geralt said. "I can't let you do it."

Kain shrugged. "I'll go if I have to. And I'll probably come out of it all right."

Philippa smiled in that slow, charming manner Geralt recalled from the banquet before the Chamber's fall. She'd had her eyes and looked dashing.

"Now that is dedication I do appreciate," she nearly purred. "I love your druid affection for all life that needs saving. Shame Vilgefortz had been wired in a completely opposite manner. Such power wasted. Yours, however, is very promising."

"Cut it," Geralt sneered disdainfully. "He's a witcher. He won't be your next Vilgefortz."

"That is not for you to decide, Witcher," Philippa said, her blindfolded eyes still seemingly scrutinizing Kain. "I merely recognize the talents I see."

"It used to be our duty to recognize talents," Margarita said.

"I can try to talk to Emhyr," Geralt said. "It's all I can do."

"He will demand the same," Triss said. "Your reasoning shall change nothing."

"I can still try."

"No," Yennefer added again, this time more heatedly. "He doesn't care for reason. Emhyr wants what he wants. He'll just lock you up again, Geralt, and we need you here. Ciri needs you with her."

And so did Yennefer.

"He won't lock me up again," Geralt reasoned. "There is no use."

"He's not alone," Kain added. "We'll do what we have to do. But what we have to do needs pondering."

"Which we'll take our time with, if everyone else will lay off a little," the Witcher said and made a point of finishing his meal in peace.

"Take your time, Witcher," Margarita smirked. "But there is hardly any to waste. Don't forget it."

The two sorceresses finished their wine and left. Triss barely glanced after them, focused on her cup and gloomy contemplation.

"There wasn't any use the first time," Yennefer stated, unwilling to drop it although The Lodge had finally lost a little wind in their sails.

She watched them head upstairs, her gaze shifting to Triss for a moment.

"There's no safe way to get her. None. Emhyr is not going to care to negotiate with you and if he does, it's going to come at a price you don't want to pay. You and I both know that. We've the pardons, we use them to move around freely and once we'd disposed of The Wild Hunt we can help them free her."

"We understand your opinion, Yennefer," Geralt said. "We shall figure out what to do when we can."

"And in the meantime?"

The Witcher gave her a meaningful look raising his fork, "I'm eating."

"Hm."

Yennefer glanced down at her plate, picking apart the meat, lazily stuffing it into her mouth, one piece at a time.

"What did he demand for his pardons?" asked Geralt after a while, and looked to Yennefer. "I assume they weren't a gift."

"She had to promise to go back to him after the battle to talk. Face to face. Alone."

The Witcher stiffened at the news and peered at Yennefer with either concern or outright stupefaction. "What for? She told me she wanted freedom while having decided to actually give him what he wishes?"

"It's just a talk, to hear him out or hear him repeat what he has been saying all this time. And then she'll walk out. But given Emhyr's penchant for locking up his guests, I doubt we can trust it'll only end up like that."

"It's a hard task to lock her up," noted Kain.

Triss clicked her tongue. "Depends on how many mages he puts to that task."

"If that happens, we'll know."

"True," Geralt agreed and finished his wine. "She has to have that talk. It's been long overdue."

Yennefer nodded. "It has. I believe she knows that, too, or she wouldn't have agreed to it."

"Hmm."

Geralt didn't refill his cup, and once their meals were finished, both witchers excused themselves and headed outside.

Triss watched after them and poured the remaining wine from the bottle into her cup.

Ciri peered down at the entrance when she heard the door open, but from her current vantage point she could not see who came or left. She got on her feet and balanced along the rooftop, catching sight of the two witchers.

"Where are you going?" she asked casually.

They peered up at where her voice came from and caught the sight of her peeking from the roof.

"A walk," Geralt offered.

"Want some company?" Or were they attempting to do some sort of brotherly bonding?

"If you wish," Geralt said. "Just meet us outside the gate. Just in case."

They glanced around and went down the street.

Ciri watched them disappear down the street before she climbed back in the window. From there she disappeared in a familiar flash of emerald green, appearing somewhere deep in the forest outside the gates.

Feeling almost giddy from the use of her power, Ciri jogged through the trees and towards where she felt Kain and Geralt would soon make their way.

* * *

"What are you afraid of, people of Novigrad, the safest city in our world? Non-humans, is it? Dopplers disguising as your closest ones to steal your children, your spouse or, perhaps, your own life? Witches and hags that plot at night to make you or your life stock sick? Bring you bad luck? Or are you afraid of creatures lurking around your house at night waiting for a chance to creep in and slash their claws across your throats?

"What is it you're most afraid of? Look at the streets of your noble city, dear folks! Ye brave folks! Haven't you burnt all yer fears and horrors? Haven't you cast away every bit of filth you don't want in yer lives? Aren't you marveling at them burning and turning to coals, don't you head to beds at night still hearing their screams of pain? Pain, folks! For they're just as mortal as any of ye is! Do you think of that when ye burn another dwarf or healer at your stakes?

"Tell me, good folks of fearless city of Novigrad, what ye think of when ye go to beds these days? Is it creatures lurking in the night or that neighbor Halfling that sold ye beats at the market? The one you wish were dead because he's a non-human? Or maybe it's the ghost knights clad in black armor that came to take your lives and have already spilt blood?

"Oh yes, good folks, we have lived to this very day when the ghosts from the ominous visions come to claim our lives for they have none of their own! And why, you would ask. Why would they want to kill us? Because they can! Because, my beautiful people of Novigrad, ye've been burning enthusiastically the very those who can stand between ye all and death that comes on spectral horses through the chill of night! That is why the visions come to life and claim our lives excusing it with their hunt for someone who doesn't exist!

"Yes, my dear people of Novigrad, you've heard me right! What the ghosts ever want from the living? They want what they believe they haven't resolved. A murdered wife craves revenge on her murderous husband; a drowned sailor yearns for the warmth of his hearth and a hug of his children! And what would the Spectral Hunt want from us, the living people, to threaten us and take lives? They claim to hunt the girl with ashen hair! The child of fire and death, the grand fall of Cintra! The Lion Cub with ashen hair that's been a symbol of life and new hope for so very long while all over the kingdoms she was believed to have survived! But for a very long time now we know it to not be true! No one has recovered the lost princess. So how would we give them what was never there?

"I tell you what this is when death comes to claim its prey! It is the price for every sin, the price for every dwarf and healer burnt at your stakes! I know you'll say it wasn't your doing, but who, I ask ye, WHO allowed the hunters to do their dirty, bloody work? Who let them in and listened to their filth about Eternal Fire?

"Where, oh good people of Novigrad, where is that bloody fire now when we need it to cast away the ice of death from out doorstep? Where is that fire now when we call upon it to survive this coldest night? Where is that fire now, ye all ask! It burnt out with the last pyre they had ignited, for pyres were all they were good at – the murder and misery we now have to pay for with our lives! Who will save ye now, good people of Novigrad? Who can save you now?"

"Who? Yes, what should we do now?"

"Just ploughin die, that's what!"

"But how is it fair! I never burnt anyone!"

"The damn cult! I say we burn 'em now and see where it gets us!"

"Yeah! Where are those bloody hunters?!"

"Gimme those priests! Those fuckers good-for-nothings!"

"I don't want to die!"

The crowd growled and worried and stirred and screamed for mercy and justice. The town crier kept fueling with more instigating preaching. The two witchers were walking again, leaving the crowd behind. Before they reached the gates, a few more gatherings buzzed like overpopulated hives.

"Dijkstra likes a thorough work," Geralt remarked.

"Scared people turn very quickly," Kain responded. "Any moment it can become a stampede where no one thinks for themselves, anymore. Or at all. There's a fine line."

"I'm afraid we're past worrying about these lines."

Kain hemmed in acknowledgement, and they walked in silence for a bit, listening to the criers and their speeches reaching them in bits and pieces from almost every street.

"What about the Emperor?" Kain asked eventually.

Geralt pondered. "I wish I knew. If he's adamant about the coronation, she'll never go for it."

"Fringilla's in the cell like an animal, up to her ears in filth and abuse, with the shackles. Just like Yennefer was."

"Hmm." Geralt grimaced subtly and shot him an assessing look. "How do you propose we convince him? For stealing her out is not an option."

"I don't know. But there must be a way." Kain considered him. "Especially with something in there between…"

Geralt made another reluctant sound of acknowledgement, his brow furrowing.

They walked out of the gate and proceeded through the village toward the woods.

* * *

They sat in silence for a while; Triss sipped her wine and watched Yennefer with a keen eye.

"Is everything all right, darling?" she asked eventually, a faint frown of concern marring her beautiful face framed with reddish chestnut hair falling freely down her shoulders.

Yennefer raised her eyes from her unfinished meal, focusing instead on the mead in her hand and the fire that was warming the inside of the inn.

"As well as it could be."

Triss face remained concerned, and the doubt merely gleamed in the depth of her green eyes scrutinizing Yennefer. "You seem... sad. Anything happened between you and Geralt? You don't seem your usual passionate selves."

Yennefer looked up from the mug, narrowing her eyes on Triss's face.

"What do you mean?"

Did Triss suspect or was she fishing?

"We've other more important issues that we need to focus on."

Triss rolled her eyes a little and finished her wine. "It's not that you don't roll around in hay all day, Yennefer. It's that... cold between you. Barely a shared glance. I know him. I know every emotion to cross his face. I merely see something is wrong. I'm concerned."

Yennefer prickled, irritated with Triss's attempts to inject herself in their relationship even if only for curiosity sake. Yen didn't for a second believe that it had anything to do with concern for the state of their relationship.

"We're not cold, we're focused and there's a difference. We're at war."

"All right, all right," Triss raised her hands, getting up from the table. "No need to defend your secrets with such fury, darling. I understand."

She was smiling subtly when she ascended the stairs.

Yennefer watched her go and shoved aside her plate. If anything, Yennefer had probably made things worse by denying Triss the answers she wanted. Triss would dig until she couldn't dig anymore. Unless she already had? Yennefer shot off her bench, snarling, downing the contents of her mead before heading to Geralt's room. She needed a minute to herself before everyone piled in again.

* * *

"How is it you two can simply walk through the gates and not get apprehended?" Ciri asked once the three of them met up on the outskirts of the forest. "Even when I was a fat, balding man they looked me over."

Geralt looked puzzled, "You were what? How?"

"Yennefer," she added as an explanation.

"Dijkstra has long hands, it would seem," Kain said. "No one hunts witchers anymore."

"Are they still searching for ashen-haired, scarred girls?"

The witchers nodded.

"They do," Kain confirmed. "You'll have to keep your dark hair color and pretend to be one of the sorceresses. No one can know you are what the Hunt wants."

_Oh, joy._

"Alright," she said, trying to keep the displeasure out of her voice. "Headed somewhere in specific?"

"Just taking a small break to think things over," Geralt said.

"Griffin and the closest river for me," Kain added.

"What about you?" Geralt asked Ciri. "You look tired."

"More hungry than tired," she admitted as they strolled deeper into the forest. "And I am not eager to be in the company of the Lodge at the moment."

"They let us be for now," Geralt said, his boots shuffling against the forest floor. "But Fringilla - or her continued imprisonment - doesn't sit well with them."

"It doesn't sit well with me, either. And yet… I am not sure I am willing to sign my life away in order to save her. However selfish that may be."

"No one asks you," Kain stated. "There might be another way, maybe a few, the question is which way to pick."

"Kidnapping won't be taken well, apparently," the Witcher mused. "Which leaves negotiations."

"What else can we offer to give him?"

"Hard to tell before we actually talk about it."

Ciri looked between the two of them. "Best to not let him find out about Kain and who he is. Emhyr will try to use him like everyone else."

"I'm just another witcher," Kain spread his arms and turned to the bushes rustling when Griffin trotted through. Kain smiled as the beast rushed to meet his hand and put the feathery neck for scratching.

"Until The Lodge decides not to keep your secret anymore."

"I don't care about that secret, Ciri. Keeping secrets is too much work. Useless work since everyone who is a spy or has some will find out. Like Dijkstra. He's aware of my spy achievements. I'm sure Emhyr knows some, too. We have assassinated a lot of people serving each kingdom including Nilfgaard."

"Spy doesn't equal Elder Blood," Ciri said. "And you should care. You will forever be hunted."

"I've been hunted before, it's nothing new, nor anything I can prevent." Kain ruffled the griffin's feathers, smiling.

"You can," she argued. "If you keep it a secret."

It quite infuriated her how indifferent he was to all of it when he knew just how much agony and peril she had gone through for nothing other than the sake of her cursed blood. Like he didn't want to see.

Kain said, "I'm not telling anyone, but I can do nothing about people knowing it from the go."

"Sorcerers have ways to know things and we have no power over it, Ciri," Geralt put in. "No need to brood over it now. We have enough on our plate as it is."

"If you say so." She was still not convinced and would not be able to stop worrying, no matter how much everyone told her not to. She needed to be on her guard. Always.

"You need to eat, Ciri," Geralt said, and looked at Kain. "We might want to deal with Emhyr tomorrow."

"Or after Dijkstra," Kain responded. "Once we know what plan he's cooked."

"Fair."

"Should I come with you? To see Emhyr?"

"I've been told you're going to see him on your own," the Witcher said. "It's a mature decision. He wouldn't leave you alone."

"I am. But not until after we've finished off The Hunt. Could still be a while."

Kain smirked, casting a glance at Ciri over his shoulder. "He probably expects you after the Novigrad battle."

"The Novigrad battle was never mentioned," she said. "So why would he think such a thing?"

"Who would want to wait for someone indefinitely?" Kain reasoned. "He'd never conquered so much so quickly if he had no issues with patience."

She shrugged. "Then he should have worded himself better."

Kain excused himself and snuck away with his griffin. Geralt glanced at them disappearing in the woods, then turned to Ciri with concerned interest.

"Are you two all right?"

"Kain and me?" she asked, glancing after the disappearing boy. "I thought we were. I'm not sure. I don't know what we are."

The Witcher smiled shrewdly, "Friends and allies is not a bad start. Or, perhaps, not good enough for Ciri, mm?"

"It would be if I knew that is what we were." She was silent a moment, contemplating. "I kissed him. He didn't like it. He says he can't open himself up to anything like that. Not with me, anyway. So I suppose I already have my answer."

The Witcher considered her, heaving a sigh. "He might be my brother, but we have our differences, as well as likenesses. He's avoiding romance, which I fully understand. When you're set in a certain habit for years and then meet someone who's ready to love you the way you are, it takes time to accept it. For us who knew we couldn't love, it does take time. It's breaking a habit."

"It's silly to worry about such things at the moment anyway," she said, eyes on her boots. "I should keep my mind on The Hunt and nothing else."

"And what would it do to you? You already nearly have a face of a banshee searching for an omen to announce. You need some moments free of all this doom. You can't go on like this. Not for so many years straight. Don't do this to yourself. We'll pull through. We have to." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her head. "I promise."

"I am tired of trying to find those happy moments only to have them shatter." Her voice was muffled against Geralt's jerkin. She was in no hurry to pull away from him. She liked hiding her face against his chest. It felt safer. "I am just tired. Better to not get my hopes up."

He held her tenderly but in a firm embrace. It felt the safest with her so close. She spent too much time out of his reach for his comfort. "Hopes for what?"

"All the good things one is supposed to hope for – love, peace, happiness... I imagine it would hurt less if one didn't try to find it in the first place. Even when you think you have a good thing, they turn out not to be..." Mistle came to mind. As did Avallac'h. People who had both let her down severely. Or rather, people she never should have opened up to in the first place.

"What do we live for, then?" he asked in a gentle voice. "Do I live to slay monsters until there are none left? Do I stop hoping for anything better? What do I do then? Pick a fiend and let it get me to end this?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "The past few years... it feels as though I have been fighting to live simply so Eredin will not win. And even those few times I have dared to imagine what life will be like should we defeat them, I soon remember I will probably die anyway."

The Witcher pulled her away from him to look her in the eye, scowling. "Stop thinking that, Ciri. There was no sense in your destiny and all the noise about it if you were so easy to kill. With your power, you will survive. Eredin is no match for you, even if he's not yet aware of it."

She had not been speaking of Eredin, and only now realized the words had slipped from her without thinking. Luckily, Geralt had not caught on.

She nodded, swiping the back of her hand across her wet eyes and smiled. For him. "Yeah."

"Don't tell me your happy moments depend on what Kain thinks of your kisses." Geralt tried to stay serious, but his mouth twitched in the slightest amusement.

"Happy moments with Kain? Of course it does. How would you feel if you were in love with Yennefer and she did not want you in return? Not even the slightest bit sad?"

He sighed. "I'm a witcher, and if all the joy in my life depended on love and being loved in return, I'd find that killer fiend a long time ago to end it. I have you, Dandelion, Zoltan, my friends and now a brother. It's enough, more than so many of my kind dream to have."

"You did not answer my question," Ciri pointed out. "You would be sad. I remember you were."

"So... she didn't want me? I'm not surprised. It's what I do remember."

"I don't know what she wanted. She was like Kain, I suppose. Closed."

"He's not closed. He's just afraid of all the possible suffering he might be inviting if he allowed that love in. We never felt needed. We never thought we could be."

"You speak as though you are the same."

"We come from the same background of being given away to witcher schools. It's a way of life, Ciri. It's not a temporary thing. We feel alike in many ways because of it."

"I know. But you are not the same person. Just as he and I are not the same person even though we share something it is possible no one else has," she pointed out, then waved it away. It was unimportant and, in truth, she was glad Geralt had found someone. Family. He'd need it in the coming months and years.

"You should make an effort to gain his griffin's acceptance. He's important to him and I have a feeling you will be, too."

Geralt couldn't help but laugh. "Amazing image: a witcher and a creature he would have killed for money."

She smiled slightly and prodded his chest with a finger. "Time to broaden your horizon."

"I have nothing against his griffin until he starts killing people. I don't suppose that would happen."

"Not unless said people attacked him or Kain. I slept next to him several nights and felt perfectly safe."

"Griffins are rather intelligent, I have to admit it," Geralt said as they strolled languidly through the woods. "Though when they're enraged and murderous, there's no stopping them easily. He's lucky to have gained one as a friend. I'm not a druid, so I can't boast the same talent."

"Is it easy to stop anyone when they are enraged and murderous?" Ciri asked with a soft laugh, though she understood what Geralt meant. "Well, you don't need a griffin. You have me."

Geralt laughed, but deep down a thought arose that she was even more dangerous than any enraged griffin could be. What she could do with her magic in the moments of rage was amazing and petrifying at the same time. None of what he wanted to mention to her, however.

"Go," Ciri said, gently nudging Geralt away. "Go spend time with your brother. Get to know him. I'll go back to the inn and find something to eat now the hags have retreated."

"We'll have enough time for everything," he said, drawing her closer almost possessively despite her nudging. "I feel I'm missing all the time with you, and I had missed it too much, for too many years that've been stolen from us."

She smiled, genuinely delighted he was choosing to spend time with her even if more interesting people were available to him. "What would we have been doing, you think? Had we not been separated and hunted."

"You'd probably be a witcher, and most our time would be spent traveling around, killing monsters and listening to Dandelion complain and compose - in those moments when he wouldn't be stuck in another trouble brought about by numerous love affairs."

"Would you have given me the mutations, you think? There was a time you all seemed against it."

"I was never going to," he admitted. "I would never have done it to you. Besides, your own talents work better. Your Elder Blood is much more than any meagre witcher magic can give. You simply never needed it."

"But you doubt it now," she said, looking up at him. "You don't want me to be a witcher."

"The absolute truth of it, Ciri, is that I don't know anything for sure, anymore. The Lodge keep accusing me of enabling you to lead a life that is not suited for anyone without mutations. And they're right. But then you only expressed your want to be a witcher when you were a child. Now you state you want something of your own choosing. And none of us can judge that or assess in any way, for none of us know what it is. It's solely up to you what choices you will make. I know my choice stays the same. I cannot be reborn into something new."

"You could be a farmer," Ciri teased. "But you would be bored."

She hooked her arm through his as they walked further into the forest.

"And I don't think you should pay much heed to The Lodge and their 'parenting' advice. They know nothing of it."

"I know nothing of it, either," he said. "I never knew what was best for a child, let alone a girl. That is why I tried to escape you. I didn't want that kind of misery for you. If Cintra never fell, you'd have become its queen one day like Calanthe wanted."

"I never wanted to be Queen. Even before I met you. I understood more than people gave me credit for. Saw more.

"My grandmother was queen, and yet she was not allowed to rule without a man by her side. So when my grandfather died she had to marry another.

"If I were to follow in my mother's footsteps, I would have gotten married to some lazy and spoiled princeling. And right away he would have been my minder. And then I would be expected to give him children. Would be deemed a failure and a disgrace to the kingdom if I failed to do so.

"And I would be flanked by body guards. I would not be permitted to leave the castle without them. Because women are weak and feeble and can do nothing for themselves.

"A prisoner with a crown."

She shook her head.

"I'd take monsters and an early death over that any day."

"Had Cintra never fallen, you'd have no other options. We wouldn't have met again. I wouldn't come back to take you from your home. Calanthe adapted, so would you."

"No," Ciri objected. "I wouldn't then. I won't now. That way lies only misery."

She flinched. "I realize how awful I sound. How privileged. I'd have a bed to sleep in and food on the table. And most would be content with that, I suppose."

"It matters not now that we are here and the history went the way it did. If you refuse the throne, no one can make you choose it. And no one can tell whether it would do you good or ill to have claimed it. It is simply unknown."

"What would you do if you were in my shoes? Would you be king?"

He peered at her for a moment of contemplating, utterly dumbfounded. "I... have no clue what I'd do. I barely recall anything before Kaer Morhen. It's like... I've never been anything else other than what I am. And it couldn't be further from a crown. I guess I lack imagination to calculate my choice in that version."

She nodded, understanding his plight. Then an impish, knowing smile made the corner of her mouth twitch.

"You would have turned it down based on the clothes alone."

"Oh, come on!" cried Geralt. "What's the point of being a king when you can't pick your own clothes!"

"I agree!" Ciri laughed. "Have you ever seen me in a dress?"

"I saw your portrait as a child. In your castle in Cintra, and then in Emhyr's library. You seemed... uncomfortable.

"But your mother was dashing in her royal dresses. You would be, too. You look a lot like her."

"My grandmother made me sit for that portrait when I was five. She always hated the end product and, as she liked to remind me, it was not the artist's fault." Ciri smiled fondly. "But she still hung it in her bed chambers. I hate that Emhyr has it now."

"He does harbor some feelings for you," the Witcher said in a quiet voice. "Blood does call to blood. We can't underestimate something we don't know."

"Yes, and those feelings worry me," Ciri replied. "He married my replica. It is possible he believes our personalities are similar, and that is why he wants me close now."

"He did it to secure the Cintra throne. He wants you to be with him because he has his unresolved parental feelings. Everybody can love, Ciri. But everybody loves differently. He probably loves you, but in his own way."

She shrugged, looking troubled. "I am not certain I want that love. To accept it, to accept him, would be to ignore what he did to my mother, grandmother, and the people of Cintra."

"I can't advise on it. It should be between you and him. I do know, however, that sometimes people need to be given a second chance. Sometimes they change when they want to. If you will be speaking to him, listen to your heart, Ciri. Only you will know what to do and how to feel."

"I told him I would, so I will." She looked up at the witcher. "Do you think Kain is right? That he expects me to come after the battle of Novigrad?"

"Kain says things as if he knows. I'm not sure what to make of his magic at times.

"If I were Emhyr, I'd want you to come as soon as you're able."

"He thinks I would have changed my mind that quickly? While I am still being hunted?" Ciri shook his head. "Emhyr makes no sense to me."

"He believes he can provide you with better protection and chances for survival than what you have with us."

"He's never even met The Hunt as far as I am aware. Everything he knows is from legends and fairytales." Ciri clutched Geralt's arm tighter. "He'd be condemning his people to a gruesome death."

The Witcher's face turned gloomy. "We are not doing any better. Whatever the outcome, people will die. We'll do our best but there will be deaths. We cannot save everyone."

"I know. But at the very least, some of our people have faced monsters before. They are better prepared."

"His men win with quantity more than quality," Geralt remarked. "However, they aren't bad fighters."

"I suppose not. Better than the civilians of Novigrad."

"If Dijkstra won't take care of it, we'll have to convince civilians to leave until the battle's over."

"What about the soldiers and guards? Will they remain?"

"Those who can fight should remain." He steered her gently toward the city as they walked. "We are good, but we cannot take on the whole unit of the Wild Hunt. We don't know what the Lodge can do, especially if they don't get Fringilla back. Any help is good."

"Yennefer, Triss, and Keira managed at Kaer Morhen. And we have Kain."

"We also had Mousesack," Geralt reminded. "Kain nearly died that day. It was a hair away, too close. You almost got taken away. We lost Coen, Hjalmar's men, we almost lost Lambert and Eskel. Avallac'h barely managed to do his spell in time. Keira almost died, too. Yennefer lost a lot of power.

"It won't be easy, Ciri."

"I am not saying it will be. But from the sound of it, the Lodge won't go into battle at all unless they have Fringilla," Ciri said. "Do you really think one person will make that much of a difference?"

"They want to be difficult. But I won't state they don't care about her. When even I do. Those cells... What happened to Margarita and Triss... It's not something to wish upon any living being."

"Of course not," she agreed. "Are you really considering going there yourself to bargain with him? What if he tries to hurt you again? Or asks for something you cannot give?"

The Witcher shrugged. "I cannot give him something I cannot give. And scarcely he will consider any torture. It's stupid to attempt anything when he got your agreement to talk."

"And if he asks you to convince me to officially become his heir? Will you lie?" Ciri asked, watching him.

"He probably knows I can't make you. Nor can he. It's solely your decision."

"Unless he continues to threaten the people I love."

"No one discarded that tactics."

They were nearing the city gates again.

"I should probably travel my way instead of going past the guards."

"Maybe it's not wise to overuse it? And the guards are busy with the crowds listening to new preachers."

"Overuse it?" Ciri asked, eyeing the upcoming bridge. "Eredin clearly already knows I am here."

"You think it's because of your use of power?"

She shrugged. "Or the Crone. Either way, it's how they used to track me."

The Witcher scowled, reflecting. "If that Crone has a way of reporting your location to them, we have to stop her. Finish what you started."

"We will. She has Kain's blood. Probably tracking him that way."

He looked at her with an accusation. "Were you two going to tell me about that?"

"It honestly just slipped my mind until a few days ago when Kain reminded me. It's not as though we have had much spare time."

"Doesn't matter how much time we can have, but when it comes to your safety, it's our priority."

"I told you; It slipped my mind. I was not trying to hide it from you."

It didn't wipe the frown from his brow, but he asked no more questions. Instead, he nudged her toward the city.

"Go, you have to eat and rest."

"Where will you go?"

"I'll see where Kain is."

"Alright. Be safe. And don't go to see Emhyr before you tell me, please."

Geralt smiled and hugged her. "Don't worry."

"Try and stop me," she said, hugging him back before heading off towards the gate.

Ciri walked through town with her head lowered, glancing cautiously every now and then at the crowds of people who seemed just about ready to riot. Though what they were protesting was less clear. The Eternal Fire? The Hunt, itself? Their king?

At least there was one thing Ciri could say with confidence that Emhyr was the better emperor. Unlike Radovid, he did not have it out for mages and non-humans. In fact, she knew he revered elves and their way of life, listening keenly to their prophecies. It was why he'd wanted a child with his Elder Blood daughter to begin with.

She reached the inn without any trouble and slipped inside. The first floor was empty. Everyone seemed to have retreated to their rooms.

Ciri peered into the kitchens where the cook was busy portioning out pieces of pork after a recent delivery. She asked whether it was possible to have some food made, and though the cook seemed reluctant to abandon his current task, he agreed.

"Ciri!" Priscilla greeted her with a smile descending the stairs. "There is something delivered for you today." She produced a small bundle from the counter and handed it over. "Dandelion's masseuse brought it, she said you know what it is. I'll go see about your lunch." She flashed a smile and went to the kitchen.

"Thank you," Ciri said, taking the package and hugging it to her chest. For some reason it grated on her nerves to have Fealinn referred to as 'Dandelion's masseuse', only because she was so much more. But she didn't stop to consider it for long, darting up the stairs to her room where she could open the parcel in peace.

She sat on her bed and unwrapped the brown paper, smiling to herself as a hand-forged dimeritium bracelet fell into her lap. Whoever had made it had managed to make it quite beautiful. Not flash or sparkly like something one of the sorceresses might wear; subtler in its decoration than that.

She slipped it onto her right wrist and tried to examine whether she felt any different. After a minute of contemplation, she decided she did not. There was no discomfort or pain.

Pleased with that, she bounded out of her room and down the stairs again, more than ready for a meal now.

Her meal was consumed quickly and quietly and once she finished, Ciri trekked back up the stairs in search of Yennefer. She found her in Geralt's room, looking as though she was in a mood, which was never pleasant.

"Everything alright?"

Yennefer looked up as the door opened and Ciri stepped inside. She hadn't been expecting Geralt but she'd hoped. After her talk with Triss she wanted a bit of reassurance. She loathed herself for it. Never before had she needed anyone else's approval or anything else even similar. She shrugged and brushed aside the thought. "You shouldn't let The Lodge get to you. You know they're just trying to push you into a place where they can air their views."

"Being around them makes me feel like a little girl again. Powerless," Ciri admitted, taking a seat on Geralt's bed.

"You're not, though, and you need to remember that. Otherwise they'll keep pushing you, keep trying to make you bend."

"It is more likely I'll snap."

"You should put them in their place. If you don't they'll continue to do it and keep coming."

Philippa liked to sniff out the weak breaks in a person's head.

Ciri regarded the sorceress carefully. "Are you still suffering from your time spent in the dungeon?" It was so rare to see Yennefer idle and looking morose, that she had to ask.

"I'm well – not hurt. Not much I could do about it otherwise anyway. Things are changing all the time and we have to adapt."

Ciri frowned in confusion. "Adapt to what?"

"Triss. Triss Merigold."

Ciri blinked, though, in truth, it was not that much of a surprise. "You mean, because of Geralt?"

Yennefer nodded. "She's fishing. Has he spoken to her at all about the Djinn?"

"Not that I know of, but I am rarely privy to their private conversation."

"I don't suppose that you are. If anyone has been talking to him, though, it's you. He hasn't spoken of it? About how he feels?"

"It's hard to get him to speak of such things. He only does if I ask and the last time I did he seemed annoyed we were all expecting him to remember things he can't."

"I don't want him to remember." Oh yes, she did. "Not presently. I want to know how he feels – what he feels. If anything?"

She glanced down at her hands sadly.

"Triss, I can tell, is already trying to conjure up some kind of plan."

"How can he know what he feels if he doesn't remember everything that has happened?" Ciri asked cautiously.

"He doesn't have to remember everything that's happened." Yennefer lifted her eyes to Ciri's face. "We've coupled. A few times. I— I surmised he might have used that as—"

She broke off mid-thought, hating that she sounded as though she were pleading to some extent or trying to beg for answers that Ciri didn't have.

"You heard he slept in Triss's room last night?"

Ciri shook her head. "No, I did not. But I suspect it was because of the treatment she gave him. Same one she gave Kain. For a calm sleep."

Yennefer snorted. "She's getting around."

"Have you talked to Geralt about his feelings? The best to do so would probably be you."

"No, I haven't." Yennefer didn't want to push him, especially after she knew that every time it came up he appeared to look remorseful. "How do I talk to him about something, as you said, he doesn't remember? If he doesn't have any opinion on who I am now, I don't want to push him. I just… I wanted to see if he was giving it any thought, if it was even on his mind—"

"If he is sleeping with you, how could he not?" Ciri asked, her head tilted, hair falling forward to obscure one eye. She pushed it away. "You're not easy to ignore. Even when you're quiet."

Yennefer smiled at Ciri, sometimes forgetting that despite her now adult features and other womanly traits, that she wasn't as experienced.

"Easily. Men don't need to have any kind of feeling for a woman to bed them. Nor do women. They just do. It's primitive."

"And yet it is you he... couples with. Not Triss. That must mean something, no?"

"Does it? Maybe it's convenience, obligation, that noble spirt of his that wants to soothe my dramatics."

Ciri winced. "I don't think Geralt would ever feel obligated to sleep with you. Maybe his body remembers things his mind does not?"

"Perhaps."

Triss claimed otherwise and she was right. They weren't at the same level of near blind passion that they used to be, that all-consuming lust that made it hard to be in one another's company without touching or eventually sleeping together.

"What of Kain? Have you broached him about your feelings?"

Ciri nodded. "I have. I kissed him. He didn't kiss me back. And a part of me knew he wouldn't. He told me almost as soon as we met he doesn't want to get attached to anyone."

"Why's that? Did he tell you?"

"Bad past experiences that have made him wary. Afraid, maybe. He said he's closed himself down. And I don't know if I should push to change his mind or not. I don't want to be... I mean, what people have done to me... I don't want to do that to him."

"You would never do that and nothing of what you're feeling for Kain is anywhere near what has been done to you. It's different."

"Not if he does not want me and I push myself on him anyway."

"Feeling a moment between yourselves is not pushing yourself on him."

"Even if I am the only one feeling it?"

"You don't know that you are," Yennefer stated conversationally. "Just because he doesn't want to get attached, doesn't mean that he won't. Look at Geralt and I. Not now. Over the years. We are where we are because of trying to discover our feelings and finding it impossible. These things take time. It doesn't mean you give up just because he isn't sure. Until he tells you he absolutely has no interest in you, you still have a chance."

"Perhaps." Ciri still was not sure. What if by trying she was pushing Kain away? And how was she to handle the feeling of rejection when he didn't respond to her advances? "Is it strange that I am still attracted to him knowing he is Geralt's brother?"

"No. You were attracted to him before you knew he was Geralt's brother. There's no way to turn that off with a snap of the fingers, although, I suppose, if you have no interest in pursuing that you could step back from it entirely. Do you feel strange about it?"

"Not really. I don't think of him as Geralt's brother. I think of him as my… Kain."

"Then that's who he is." Yennefer smiled and slipped a hand into Ciri's.

Ciri averted her gaze. "Is it normal to feel so lost? I thought love and romance were supposed to be lovely."

"Unfortunately, some love is troubled, takes a lot of work and time to figure it out. But it can be lovely, can be quite amazing—"

"I wouldn't know. But I'd like to experience it one day. Maybe once The Hunt is gone, I'll find the time to try."

"There's time to start on that today," Yennefer added. "Why wait? Why let time pass when you could make it work now? Don't live for the maybes and one days. There might come a point where you realize or get shown that it's too late."

"If he was not ready yesterday, I doubt he is ready now." Ciri sighed. "But if the moment feels right…"

"You never know," Yennefer said encouragingly. "You never know what can change in a day."

Ciri smiled. "You should try and remember that, too."

Yennefer smiled softly, giving a laugh in spite of herself. "I'll try."


	39. Chapter 39

Geralt watched the flames in their small campfire crackle and listened to the sounds of the forest surrounding them while Kain dressed after his swim. Geralt had washed, too, but got out much quicker - the river felt rather cold, and Geralt preferred his bath time warmer whenever he could choose.

"Ciri told me about the Crone."

"I thought she would," Kain fastened the belts of his jerkin, settling with his back against another tree next to the Witcher. "We'll take care of it."

"Is it really so easy to track you both?"

"If someone with magic has your blood," Kain said, feeding more twigs to the fire, "it's not hard. She scratched me with Vesemir's medallion, and before that they tasted Ciri's blood. We cannot leave her be, vengeful as she is and with her connection to the Hunt."

"So much for keeping you hidden," Geralt smiled wryly. "I bet it's not what Visenna would like."

"She must've known I couldn't stay hidden forever. She wouldn't have sent me to the witcher school, either, for I've been safest with the druids of Maribor."

"Did she choose where you'd be from, too?"

Kain nodded. "I was supposedly from Lyria."

"Neighbors, eh." Geralt's bitter smile was slowly fading while he watched the fire. He wasn't fond of his mood. The tongues of flame reminded him of her hair, long and red.

"She abandoned you no more than she did me, Geralt."

Kain's voice was soft and also reminded him of hers.

"At least she made an effort to explain why. I never got that answer. I think she didn't have it for me. Or it was as simple as 'I didn't want you'. And she refused to tell me that to my face."

"Because it would be a lie."

Geralt's head snapped to him, eyes blazing, "How do you know? You didn't have to chase Vesemir for every bit of information. Beg to tell me another detail. Another little bit of who I am-"

"She's not what you are, Geralt. She gave you life, but you became what you are on your own, thanks to Vesemir and what you learned for yourself."

"She gave me away and never regretted it."

"I don't believe she was happy to part with you," Kain stated. "There had to be a reason."

"She would've told me, then. She denied me the answer."

Kain reflected. "She might not know how to put it to words. Magicians live in their own world and psychic revelations. She could've sensed your path and directed you. On that path you met Ciri, Yennefer, Triss, Dandelion. Do you regret that?"

Geralt sighed, gloomy. "No. I cannot regret it. I do regret, however, the wound she has left in me. Had she given me the answer-"

"Maybe she will one day. When you will understand it."

Geralt regarded him. "Your trust never faltered because you never felt she left you, pushed you off her hands into someone else's."

"I knew she wouldn't stay with me. And it's hard to be alone after you weren't. That trust in the path is the only thing we have, Geralt."

"Think she knew we would meet?"

"Perhaps a part of her knew of such possibility. Even with a low chance like ours."

"Ciri," Geralt murmured, staring into the fire. "The Child of Surprise."

"People bound by destiny will always find each other," Kain mused.

* * *

Ciri stood. "Will you come down for dinner later?" she asked Yennefer.

With the exception of The Lodge, she quite enjoyed when they all gathered for a meal together. Like they were a family. It was nice.

Yennefer made to stand as Ciri did. She nodded.

"Of course. We still have to discuss what we intend to do about protecting Novigrad and decide what battle provisions need to be made."

"Yes. If we intend to usher all the civilians out of the city..." Ciri paused. "Where will we even send them?"

"To the forests. They can at least use nature to their advantage. However, I doubt they'd going to be willing to leave."

"If I were who Eredin wants me to be, I could have moved them all to a different continent. Though, like you say, I doubt they will be willing." Ciri contemplated this for a while. "But surely they will want the children out of the way and safe?"

"They'd sooner hand you over to Eredin than give up their homes. Even if for a few minutes. Children included."

Yennefer moved to walk her to the door, reaching out to gently touch a hand to Ciri's hair.

"But don't you worry about that. You are not the cause for their stubbornness or the mistakes they make out of pride or fear."

"Perhaps not, but it certainly feels like it," the girl said, briefly leaning into Yennefer's hand before she stepped outside and headed down the stairs. Her sword could do with a cleaning and sharpening again.

"Think Dijkstra will convince people to leave?" Dandelion poured ale and pushed the mugs toward the two witchers and picked up his own.

"It would be a smart thing to do," Geralt said, sipping his ale. "There is no way of expecting him to go with smart. He'll choose what is more benefitting to him and his power. I can already tell he is squeezing every drop of advantage he gets from this siege situation. So people remember who they owe their lives afterwards."

"But how much can he do without you and the enchantresses?"

"Close to nothing," said Kain.

"We don't have the sorceresses yet, though," Ciri pointed out when she reached the bar, helping herself to a sip of Geralt's ale. "Without Fringilla, it seems they won't fight. Except for Yennefer and Triss."

"So they'll just open their portals and leave us to die?" Dandelion inquired. "So like sorcerers!" He snorted and drank.

"So like the Lodge to solely pursue their own goals," Geralt said. "And leave the world to burn behind them."

"One would think survival was in their goal as well as ours, but I suppose not."

"Oh, they would survive!" Dandelion said, leaning against the counter. "If they portal their magical behinds away from here. Say, to Skellige."

"I meant in the long run," Ciri clarified. "If The Hunt is left alive, our world will likely perish."

Dandelion shrugged. "They're mages. All mages have plans for any outcome. If they survived this far, they're likely to continue in the same fashion."

"They might be waiting for the moment to make better demands," Kain said.

"They want Fringilla," said Geralt. "She will make them stronger. Three are a better force than two. Triss is a bit of an outsider given her wish to aid us rather than stand with them."

"Would they be willing to give up their pardons for her, though? If so, freeing Fringilla could be easily arranged."

Dandelion laughed. "Naw, come on, Ciri! They want it all. No one would give up the pardons, nor forget about a possibly ally they want."

"First thing's first," the Witcher said. "We see what Dijkstra plans, and we go from there."

"Right," Dandelion drawled, looking skeptical. "That one plans for his own gain. You can be sure of it."

"Have you planned another meeting with Djikstra?" Ciri asked Geralt.

"Yes. We're meeting him tonight."

"Here?" She took a seat beside Kain, peering around him at Geralt.

The Witcher smiled, "Of course not. The place of his choosing."

"Can I come?"

"I don't think he'll like that. It's probably best that you don't. Besides, a woman visiting Passiflora catches unwanted attention."

"Loathes me that much, does he?" Ciri didn't mind if he did. But it annoyed her to be restricted once again.

"I don't think he cares about you enough to have any feelings," the Witcher mused, sipping his ale.

"So then why would he mind me tagging along?" She narrowed her eyes. "Because I'm a woman?"

"It's the most popular brothel and your presence will attract attention he does not want," Kain explained, studying the ale in his mug.

"Yes, Gods forbid a woman goes out to have a good time," Ciri scoffed.

"It's just that the only business a woman can have at a brothel is searching for her husband," Dandelion said, tipping Ciri a wink. "So most people believe."

"Most people are idiots," Ciri replied, leaning back in her seat with her arms folded across her chest.

"Most people means men," Priscilla specified, approaching with a few bottles of wine to refill the stash behind the bar counter. "That is why you're either a wife or a whore."

"Or a troubadour," Dandelion smirked, refilling the mugs with ale.

"That is luck I'm grateful for," Priscilla smiled glancing at Ciri.

"Lend me your lute and I could blend right in, Dandelion," Ciri teased, her annoyance abating ever so slightly.

Dandelion gave her a haughty look. "Do you truly believe it's that easy, young princess? Dare I enlighten you that I've spent years in the Academy learning that fine art of poetry and music. Cheap taverns are filled with that gimme-the-lute type and this is why the truest art and beauty I bring people are so welcome and well paid for." He shook his head and drank.

"Oh, Dandelion, I merely meant it might get me through the door without raising suspicions," she laughed.

Kain regarded her with a hint of a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. "Why do you want to get in so badly?"

"Because I need something to do. Other than sitting here and waiting," she responded. "I'd like to be useful. And if I can't be useful, I'd at least like to stay updated on what is going on."

"That is the thing," Geralt drawled, amused. "You can't be updated there. You can be updated after we come back."

"Spend your time with me, Ciri," Dandelion offered, grinning as he leaned over the counter. "Pour ale and wine, entertain guests who can't talk about anything other than the bloody Hunt and death and hell coming to their city, all the while watching Zoltan so he doesn't lose his last pants in his card games. Lovely night. You can even touch my— um... Priscilla's lute."

Priscilla punched his shoulder, but without any real heat; she was smiling into her mug.

Ciri smiled, more amused by Dandelion than Geralt at the moment. "That's a generous offer, Dandy. Maybe another time. I've a few other things to tend to if I am not needed."

She tapped the bar counter and got out of her seat, heading for the door so she could get to the stables and the whetstone she had seen there earlier.

"You could help Zoltan with the bombs," Geralt called after her.

"Maybe," she called back over her shoulder before disappearing outside.

* * *

Passiflora was already buzzing and noisy when the witchers arrived. Even in the dire time of mortal danger hanging over the city like a suspended axe over a neck, people felt the need to combine the necessary discussions and planning with pleasures that had to soften the blow of impending doom's day.

Mostly there were men of higher and middle levels of wealth - lower classes had no way of getting into an establishment like Passiflora. The lords and counts and merchants talked and argued and plotted and disputed, sipping the best wine and liquors while groping the luscious women that worked here with their free hands. They occupied the tables in their tight companies grouped by either wealth or liaisons, best looking women on their lap. The more wine served, the louder their arguments grew, the more laughter they allowed. And the farther their debates drifted from the gloom of what was going to befall their city and lives.

"Geralt of Rivia!" Marquise Serenity cracked a beautiful smile that lit up her aged face, reminding the Witcher of how desirable she used to be in her best youthful years. "What a pleasant occurrence to see you here..." she regarded Kain with interest, "bringing friends."

Kain bowed subtly, executing courtesy.

Geralt smiled. "It is my pleasure to visit your splendid establishment. Bringing friends is only natural for a desire to share such pleasure."

"Ah, such a rarity for a man of your talent to be a sweet talker," she laughed, delighted. "Our common pleasures, however, will need to wait for a better moment, for you are expected. Both of you, I dare assume. Please." She waved a hand, and one of the bouncers detached from the wall where he was observing the patrons and led the way towards an alcove in the back.

A segment of the wall slid away responding to the bouncer's tugging at one of the wall decor elements, revealing a narrow stair passage leading upstairs.

Those suits were indeed the best in the whole brothel, decorated with golden candelabras and tall bookcases covering the whole wall; a desk with chairs from polished reddish wood adorned with puffy seats of cherry-red velvet. A couple of wide wooden bathtubs sat along another wall, water steaming in them. The fireplaces crackled emanating warmth inviting for indulging in any desire this place could stir. The door to one of the bedrooms was open, teasing a view at a royally wide and luscious bed with puffy cushions and round pillows adorned with silky tassels, flickering faintly in the light of fire and candles.

"Geralt! Cath." Dijkstra spread his arms in greeting but refrained from getting up. "Welcome, welcome."

Roche and Ves nodded their hello from their chairs, golden cups of wine in their hands.

"Now, shall we finally have the talk?" Dijkstra smirked, observing them in turn, and saluted with his cup. "To writing history, lords and ladies."

* * *

Ciri was just finishing tending her sword when she heard the lads leave. She still felt a sense of resentment – this was certainly a man's world. Doubted that was going to change soon. Even should she decide to take the throne.

She tucked the sword away and went to Kelpie's stall, taking a seat on the floor in the hay where she could watch the mare and attempt to connect with her in the way Fealinn had suggested, reading her emotions while attempting to send her Ciri's own. It wasn't terribly exciting work, but by the end of it Ciri felt as though her and Kelpie's bond had deepened ever so slightly.

She studied the bracelet currently clamped around her wrist, deep in contemplation for a while before she got back on her feet, a new determination in her eyes as she left the stables and headed out onto the streets of Novigrad.

She ventured outside of the city walls and walked along the river, a shadow in the darkness until she reached a small notice board. The kind that was posted in every village containing information about upcoming events as well as bounties on monsters. Witchers made use of them when doing their work.

She perused the various notes and paid special attention to the one promising coin in reward for a group of drowners slayed. Apparently the guards of Novigrad were less willing to take that job.

Ciri left the notice where it was but headed further down the river where the monsters were rumored to be. While she walked, some of her attention on her surroundings, she focused on the sensations of nature, letting them seep into her, her fingers splayed and palms facing the earth. She felt good. Strong. Calm.

It wasn't long before she came upon a carcass in the sand. From the measly remains Ciri would identify it as a fox or badger. The bones had been gnawed clean.

When she heard the first growl of a drowner, her first instinct was to draw her sword. But she didn't. She stilled, staring into the darkness until she could glean the shape of the rotting beast. It was the only one she could see, but she expected the rest of his flock was somewhere close by.

While the creature was still unaware of her presence, Ciri raised her hand and reached in its direction, trying to focus. Ten seconds later, with the girl's brow deeply furrowed in concentration, the drowner's head exploded like a ripe melon on a hot day.

A thrill of excitement rushed through her. She exhaled in a smile and eyed the dimeritium around her wrist before refocusing her attention on the incoming group of drowners that had now noticed her and were emerging from the water.

She reached for her sword now because she was not arrogant enough to believe she could explode several heads on her second try. Hack and slash, however, fueled by the speed her power allowed her - that she could do.

* * *

Yennefer emerged from the bedroom, briefly spoke to Dandelion who'd been polite enough to inform her that Kain and Geralt had gone out, and then went in search of Ciri. A stable hand said she was amongst the horse muck, probably playing with her horse. Sounded about right. Only, as soon as the sorceress entered the area, scanned the small stalls, she realized that maybe she'd been misinformed.

Where did she go?

Yennefer entered the inn again, zeroing in on the troubadour who appeared to be behind their drinks counter, playing a rift on his lute. "Where is she?"

Dandelion looked up, his features a mask of confusion.

"Ciri," she added before he could ask.

"Last I saw she headed outside," he offered in the way of what she was sure he deemed helpful information.

"She's not there."

Dandelion glanced in Priscilla's direction, broke away from Yennefer and went to talk to Priscilla with the intent to question her on whether or not she'd seen Ciri.

Yennefer probed both their minds for information, caught a glimpse of something about a brothel and a meeting that was taking place and stalked for the door.

The sorceress sashayed into Passiflora, dropping the glamour she'd been forced to enable to travel more smoothly through Novigrad. She hadn't bothered with a horse. The place was busy, bodies everywhere, the women working in the establishment either rubbing up on someone or laughing at a particularly obnoxious joke as if paid. And they were. There were also others, men mostly, merchants and bureaucrats.

No Ciri, no Geralt and no Kain.

Yennefer moved around the room with envious grace, disregarding leering male eyes that ventured her way, most she knew from scanning them filled with ideas of desire, while others assumed they knew her and tried to place her.

This was a dangerous game for all of them and one she knew might even be prepared given that there was more muscle than usual in the establishment.

That meant there was someone important.

* * *

"Nice job with the preaching," Geralt complimented, refilling his cup with Erveluce, and looked at Dijkstra, taking a sip. "Is the town council ready to accept help from those they used to execute?"

"Are those we used to execute ready to help?" Sigi played back. "That'd be the real question. Knowing Philippa, she would name a price. My guess would be Radovid's life. Are you willing to pay it, Witcher? And you, elvish spy, former or current, I don't give a shit - are you ready to give him to her and all of us? Because that is not just a price of the city, it's an investment into a better world. This world cannot thrive while there's a sore named Radovid spitting pus and decay in the middle of it. We have to get rid of him for the good of all. And not even you, Witcher, can argue this."

"Whether I argue it or not doesn't matter for as long as it's still a regicide and I'm a witcher."

Sigi scoffed and took a hearty gulp of his wine. "You came to me, remember? Not the other way around. And when you were planning your little family meeting with the Hunt, you also asked for my help. And now when there is something we can agree upon and do together in the name of peace and life of people here, including your daughter, you suddenly become self-righteous? Ha! That's rich."

"I'm still here, am I not?" Geralt said.

The Redanian spy laughed. "But of course: no sane man leaves Passiflora without getting what he came for."

Mild annoyance swept through Geralt's features as he drank.

"I understand your reluctance, Geralt," said Roche. "But even I have to admit we don't seem to have any better choice."

"Listen to reason, Witcher," Sigi said. "What will we have if Radovid lives? Go on and tell us."

Geralt sighed, an almost grumbling sound. "I do realize that. Yennefer and Triss, as well as any sorcerer and non-human will be an outlaw on their path to execution." He looked to Roche and Ves. "But I have to admit I didn't expect to see you two here."

"Like Roche mentioned, we don't see any better outcome," Ves shared. "If we did, we wouldn't be here."

"Aw, cut the softy crap," Sigi grimaced. "As if there is a saint being among us who's never taken a life or ten."

"It's true, we're no innocents," Roche nodded. "But killing shouldn't be senseless, and in this case, Geralt, it is for a better realm. Radovid has always been pushing solely his own selfish agendas. When Kaedwen asked for help, he invaded. When I begged to help Temeria, he showed me the door. He's dreaming of a northern kingdom under his thumb. No, while he sits on his throne and is allowed to rule, there will be no free Temeria. Nor any freely working enchanters, as you already know."

"No peace in the city, no acceptance of non-humans and their rights," Ves added. "No one likes that picture he's painting."

Geralt cast a glance at Kain who gave an imperceptible nod.

"Dark hair, nice touch," smirked Dijkstra, eyeballing Kain ironically. "You may hide your medallion under your shirt, but you're still a witcher, same as your friend the Wolf. You both reek of it. Your luck is that too few possess my nose for reading subtle signs."

"You read your spies' reports more clearly," Roche smirked. "Let's get to business. How and what do we do?"

"None of us can do anything until that rat gets off his ship," Sigi said. "He's rightfully scared to set a foot on the dry land where he's got too many enemies. I have no idea how to get him out of his hiding."

"By teasing with something he wants too much to remain careful," Roche said.

Geralt smiled wryly, turning to Dijkstra. "Why wouldn't you ask that very thing for help?"

"Ah, sod you, Witcher! As if you don't know." Dijkstra grimaced and drank. "I know Phil all too well. She wants him dead even more than anyone among us. But asking her for help... Gods spare me that misery."

"You ask me, however. What can a politically neutral witcher do in that regard?"

"He hired you to find her," Sigi stated. "You have every right to march onto his ship and announce that you have his prize. On the shore. He can go and grab it."

"And you grab him," mused the Witcher. He reached for the bottle and refilled his cup. "What makes you think he'll believe me? He might as well behead me on the spot for not arriving sooner. And then what are you going to do?"

Sigi barked a laugh devoid of humor. "He's acting all brave and stern, but the truth is he soils his trousers every time he hears her name. He needs to have her dead. It's him or her, he knows it too damn well. He will follow you if you swear you bring him to her."

"He will ask why I didn't bring her to his ship."

"Think of something," the Spy shrugged. "I'm sure your brain can work. He hired you to find out anything about her. You can waltz in and merely mention her name to have him salivating. Tell him you found her hideout and bring him on the bridge. We'll do the rest."

"He wouldn't understand why I found her hideout and couldn't bring her in," Geralt shook his head.

"She's one of the most powerful sorceresses," said Kain. "You're just one witcher. Last time at the bathhouse you had me and Triss for back up. Radovid expects you to do it alone - seize her up and drag her to him over your shoulder. Can a witcher do that? No. Can a wizard do it? Not just any." He spread his arms in a brief see-for-yourself gesture.

Dijkstra burst out laughing. "He talks sense for a mage witcher. I appreciate that."

Geralt reflected upon it as he drank. "Very well," he said finally. "Assuming he bites into that hook and follows me. There will be a panic after the deed is done. There should be a place to wait it out."

"That theater you took part in once - remember it? It's empty now and we can meet up there. No one will look for us in that hole." Sigi poured himself more wine and rubbed his leg wistfully. It still whined and ached.

"Fine," Roche summed up. "That settled, then." He downed his wine and made to set the cup on the table preparing to leave.

"Now that the boring part is done with," Dijkstra said, "let me introduce some pleasantries and celebrate the agreement."

He clapped his hands three times. After a bit, the door opened letting in a group of four dancers followed by the elven girl whose name Geralt recollected as Amrynn; she was playing flute. Behind her was another woman. Nothing reflected on Kain's face when his eyes met hers in habitual briefness. They had executed that particular act many times over and never failed.

Fealinn bowed to Dijsktra and went to the desk at the bookcase wall to set up her ointments and oils. She set her bag on the desk and yanked the velvet cover off a narrow backless couch meant for massages. Sigi was sneering watching her.

"My treat, my lords," he said. "Trust me, it's worth every extra moment you spend here."

Geralt hemmed observing the dancing concubines. "I don't feel like objecting. It's been a long day."

Roche frowned, contemplating, and Ves shrugged. "Bring me more wine and do whatever. I won't mind that bath, either." She downed what remained in her cup, then began to undress, discarding the clothes on the floor as she moved for the bathtubs. She lowered into one of them with a groan of pleasure. "Still hot."

"I guess we stay for a while," Roche smirked.

"Good," sneered Sigi unbuttoning his jacket. "I'm first on that couch. My ploughing leg is killing me."

* * *

Ciri looked down at the group of slayed drowners, her breath slightly labored as she went down to the water to rinse her sword. She would have liked to have disposed of them all with magic, but other than a miracle occurring it seemed too soon for that. At least she had managed to get a brief practice in before returning to the comfort of her sword.

She looked up at the sky to gauge the moon's position and the time of night, wondering if Geralt and Kain had finished their meeting already or if they were to remain for several hours more. Slowly but surely, she made her way back to the inn.

"Oh, Ciri," Dandelion smiled from behind the counter where he wiped the washed cups. "Yennefer found you?"

"Yennefer?" Ciri asked, removing her gloves. "No. Why was she looking?"

"As if she ever reported to me," the poet scoffed, setting down the cup he'd been wiping to take another. "Though she looked threatening when asking where you went. As if anyone ever reports to me! The amount of abuse I go through with your family, Ciri, is astounding."

She quirked a smile. "I do apologize. Is she upstairs? Geralt and Kain back yet?"

"No, she never came back. And no," he smiled knowingly. "They would be crazy to return that soon. I'm sure they'll be taking their time, those witchers."

Ciri snorted, her good mood instantly vanishing. "Right. Whores are much more appealing than what they've got back here." She spoke mostly to herself but it was possible Dandelion had overheard. "I need a bath. Can you help me arrange it?"

"Oh, but, Ciri, it's not just whores," Dandelion leaned onto the counter with a dreamy smile. "It's the best of the best we're talking here. It's not like what they - or, ehm, Geralt has here..." He frowned in thought and blinked at Ciri. "He doesn't really remember what he's got, so it's quite appropriate to take advantage of the opportunity. He's never ever passed on such, not on my memory, and my memory is very good. My profession requires it." He sighed and nodded. "Yes, I'll arrange the bath."

Ciri felt a little sick at his continued speech but tried not to show it other than pushing away from the counter the moment it seemed acceptable, darting up the stairs to relieve herself of her weapons.

Before long, a man Ciri recognized to be one of the stable hands and a serving-woman came into her room, carrying the large wooden tub which they promptly began to fill with water, running up and down the stairs at a rapid pace that had her feeling guilty for asking for the service in the first place.

When they finally took their leave, Ciri undressed and climbed into the tub, letting the hot water scald her skin to distract from... everything. And when that no longer worked, she slipped under the surface, testing to see how long she could hold her breath before her lungs burned and the need for air became too strong again.

* * *

Yennefer had found a quiet table in the corner, away from the crowd, the buzz and invitations that were steered in her direction. She sipped at mead, examining the faces that came and went, gauging and seeking those of familiarity.

What had Geralt come to discuss here of all places?

And was it even anything of importance?

If so, then why had Ciri run off?

Yennefer was regretting not hanging around longer to read the Troubadour's mind more thoroughly. Not that there was much in there aside from idle prose.

She sat back in her chair, saw two faces emerge from an alcove where some other men had drifted in and out and deduced almost immediately that they hadn't been here for the entertainment. At least not to the same extent. Their heads were bent together, their faces serious and their thoughts even more so.

Yennefer stood, thinking to follow them and then reconsidered, instead making a point of slipping into the hallway to take a better look around the dodgier interior.

* * *

"Viola, my love!" Sigi grinned spreading his arms as a dainty long-haired girl walked in carrying two carafes of wine. She was wearing a colorful mask embroidered with gold; her teeth glistened like pearls as she smiled.

She set one carafe on the table, then poured five cups of wine and clapped her hands before fluttering towards Dijkstra's bear-like embrace.

Two more girls appeared carrying trays with food. Fried pheasants surrounded by baked apples covered in caramel, fried potatoes and bowls of various fruits to enrich the tastes. They set the plates down and left as quietly as they came, like ghosts.

They all had dinner, with the dancer girls joining them. Fealinn sat next to Kain and ate like a bird, ever watchful beneath the perfect mask of nonchalance. They drank, told jokes, ate their dinner and laughed. All politics were left behind.

Roche and Ves left after dinner, but Dijkstra wasn't about to wrap the festivities. He drank a'plenty and watched the girls dance while Fealinn worked on his shoulders and back, being so masterful about it that he rolled his eyes groaning his pleasure. Kain and Geralt enjoyed their baths while Amrynn and Viola rubbed them with soft sponges - the best ones delivered from Kovir.

One more guest joined them for the night, a tall but scrawny bald man in small round glasses, one Geralt knew as Thaler. He expressed his laments for being late, to which Sigi responded that it was never late to celebrate a pact of agreement.

New meals were brought in, more wine being poured and toasted with, and while the dancers engaged in another performance with Amrynn playing flute and Viola on a lute, Fealinn helped Kain dry off with a towel and coaxed him away to the bedroom with fire crackling and incenses burning. There was no door to close, only a somewhat transparent dual curtain to untie from the sides to let it fall and provide an illusion of privacy, which wasn't truly a purpose of this whole suite.

Probably why Dijkstra and other famous conspirators favored it for such meetings: the best way to know your enemies and allies alike was through habits of intimate character.

The Redanian spy's small and sharp eyes kept darting to them as they moved behind the curtains, studying their silhouettes and movements as if trying them for pretense. Neither Kain nor Fealinn had ever failed in their acts.

She pushed him to sit on the bed, straddling his thighs. Their lips met, and Kain felt she enjoyed the show. It was a bit unsettling for him to find he sort of did, too. Why it was unsettling he preferred not to dig, but an image of a pair of judgmental emerald eyes loomed on the horizon of his thoughts.

Fealinn barely allowed any thoughts to approach and develop as her tongue slipped into his mouth and her hands roamed his torso expertly, applying just the right amount of stimulation to all the spots he wasn't aware of to ignite such sensations. His Cat Medallion was buzzing subtly alarming him to her magical tricks. She gently pushed him to lie down beneath her without breaking the game.

"You're not supposed to leave before morn," Fealinn whispered between kisses.

"I figured."

Kain breathed in hungrily when her mouth traveled sideways along the line of his jaw and the side of his neck while her hands never tired and provided a nearly overloading amount of sensations to keep the thoughts at bay. Her silky lips found his and engaged in another battle, stealing his breath and senses. Even through the veil of things dancing through his body, Kain felt Sigi's attention that coiled around like fine smoke from the incenses.

Fealinn's breath tickled his lips, "Do we..?"

He tried to inhale deeper, focusing to ponder. Temptation of novelty was nearing insane levels.

"Better not."

"All right."

Her kiss was gentle, tentative at first, sneaky and probing; her tongue snaked in while her fingers danced over his skin. They broke the kiss, panting softly; she lowered her head, blowing over his chest before bringing her lips to tease his nipple; her tongue danced around the areola, switching to gentle nips of her teeth.

She glided her warm palms down his chest, nails racking lightly as she sat back straddling his hips. Her hand wrapped around his shaft, she rose a tad and lowered herself back onto his thighs with a loud moan that sent shivers through his spinal nerves, creating the perfect illusion for all the beholders. He let out a shaky breath, his hands sliding up her thighs, fingers squeezing her flesh in encouragement of growing pleasure that began to push the spy's scrutiny from outside the room away into the dark of background.

Her thighs glided against his rhythmically to her moans, her hand heated up working him toward what promised to be an explosive release.

Their eyes met, and Kain smiled a bit impishly sneaking his hand beneath her bunched up skirt, and she tossed her head back, hair flying, her moans gaining the genuine notes.

They collapsed on the bed in one panting, relaxed pile, she snuggled up to him and he felt he was drifting off. He decided not to fight it.

Eventually, all the consumed wine inclined Sigi to get horizontal, and he excused himself to another of two bedrooms accompanied by Viola on his arm and two other dancers on his other.

Amrynn guided Geralt to the wide luxurious bed where Kain and Fealinn were dozing; it was wide enough to accommodate both couples without causing disturbance to either.

There had been enough wine to add the reckless note to Geralt's desire. Amrynn's eyes twinkled in the dark reflecting the fire still dancing in the fireplace, but the Witcher suddenly thought of the cold, violet gleam that lured and called from far away. Too far away... Geralt groaned, surrendering his mind to what his body craved, and the room around kept turning slowly like stars model at some scholar's library.

The Witcher and his elf concubine acted out the same play of passion but with no reservations or pretense, both vigorous and insatiable, feasting upon each other over and over until the night's darkness began to thin and they both were spent and tired.

Eventually, the suite grew darker as the candles died out one by one, and all sounds diminished to peaceful shallow breath of slumber.

* * *

When the water turned cold, Ciri heated it again the way Kain had taught her, using her magic and trying to familiarize herself with it. She also sent for a bottle of wine which she drank with gusto while playing, lifting globs of water from the surface of the tub without actually touching any of it. She was successful and soon moved on to trying to shape the globs into different animals. This proved more difficult and most of them ended up looking highly disfigured. It was entertaining enough for a while.

Until the lit fireplace beside her called to her.

(_'I forbid you from using fire-magic.'_)

Yennefer had told her something of the sort when Ciri was a novice under her tutelage. And she had broken that rule to disastrous consequences sometime later. Ciri remembered that moment with fear and self-loathing. And yet... the fire called to her like a song. She could already hear its voice in her head, imagining what it would whisper to her should she indulge.

You are mighty. The world is at your feet. Make it pay. Make them all pay. Those who have harmed you. Those who will. Let them beg for mercy while they drown in their own blood. They deserve it. They all want to use you. You are their pawn. Let the whole world burn! Let them all cower before the Elder Blood!

She'd heard it before. And it had been frightening. And tempting.

Ciri tore her gaze off the fire and closed her eyes, bringing the bottle to her lips once more, and leaned back against the tub.

Not today.

The door opened quietly, and Triss walked in with a plate of thin baked potato slices and marinated mushrooms.

"Ciri," she said in a tender tone and showcased the supper. "I thought you could use something with your wine. Are you feeling all right?" She held the plate to Ciri in offering.

Ciri attempted to smile but couldn't quite manage. "Thanks. Maybe later," she said, gesturing the sorceress put the plate on the nearby table. "I'm fine," she continued. "Just enjoying my bath."

Triss smiled knowingly. "I've known you since you were ten, Ciri, my darling. I can see and feel when you're not fine. What is the matter? If it's me and... last night, I didn't mean to upset you. I merely tried to aid and talked to him a little. He draws attention, stirs interest. I meant no harm."

Ciri was getting tired of people reading her so easily. Especially those with the ability to peek into her head. "I said I am fine, Triss," she replied tiredly. "You have done nothing to upset me."

Regret reflected on Triss face. "It pains me that you don't trust me with your hurt, like back in Kaer Morhen. I miss that."

"Why does everyone expect me to rant and rave about everything I am thinking? Why can I not have some thoughts for myself? Must I always seek advice in others before I can have a chance to search my own mind?" Ciri asked calmly. "It has nothing to do with trust. Or love."

"It's not about deciding anything, Ciri," Triss said with a small smile. "It's about sadness. I wish I could help you cast it away, my dear little sister."

"My sadness stems from being hunted for most of my life. From my loved ones being murdered." Ciri reached out to briefly squeeze Triss' hand. "You cannot help with that."

"You are with your family now," Triss said, covering Ciri's hand with her own, squeezing. "You cannot live in constant pain. It is not a way to live. We mages are often hunted, hated, murdered because of other people's fears. But if we keep on thinking about it all the time, we are dead already."

"I don't think about it all the time. I think about it now." Ciri leaned back against the tub again, taking another sip of the emptying bottle. "And I am allowed to if I wish, when I am here, alone where no one can see me."

Triss shrugged, looking sad like a kicked puppy. She rose from her haunches, nodding silently, and went to exit the room.

Ciri closed her eyes, feeling tired. It seemed she was not permitted to feel the way she did at current moment. Not even when she was by her lonesome. Because it made the people she cared about hurt. And that, that made Ciri feel lonelier than ever.

* * *

Yennefer passed a variation of rooms, all filled with couples, accompanied by all the appropriate sounds for such an establishment and laughter.

She wasn't as joyful, in fact, once she'd reached the end of the hallway and realized there was no more to go, she felt exasperated.

One of the Passiflora whores exited a room after her client to show him out, pausing when she saw Yennefer. Yennefer could sense from what was going on in her head that she knew she wasn't there to sample or work.

"Unless you're partaking, ma'am, you shouldn't be here."

"I'm looking for someone."

This gave the whore even more pause.

"A husband?"

Yennefer might have laughed softly another time, but yes, it felt that she was in search of a philandering spouse hiding from her in the shadows.

"No," Yennefer answered, the word and tone sounding the exact opposite.

The whore was smart enough to pick up on it.

"You can't be here. You have to head back down."

The woman didn't touch Yennefer but she did use her slender frame as a barricade, to keep her from venturing and to corral her like an animal for the stairs.

"I could make it worth your while," Yennefer said tightly.

"I'm not for sale," the woman retorted, contradicting her vocation.

Yennefer considered a burning insult. However, she didn't have the answers she wanted and therefore choose to be a little more agreeable. She pivoted and started back the way she came, probing the girl's mind like she'd done a couple others until eventually a stitch of information came to her.

A secret meeting with a secret entrance.

"Where is it?" Yennefer asked once she reached the stairs, hindering the woman from being able to head down the rest of the way or from escaping her gaze.

"Where's what?" the whore asked with sincere confusion.

"The door."

Her face appeared to take on a note of bewilderment and then settled as the realization dawned. She brushed it off.

"You're mistaken."

"Don't lie to me," Yennefer demanded in a lethal murmur, her eyes glowing with a shadow of neon violet. The whore shrunk back with alarm and before she could run, she'd been snared by an invisible hand, one that became physical once Yennefer's hands came to rest on either side of her face. As Yennefer sometimes tended to do, she inserted scenarios into the woman's head, calming her down, keeping her from running at the first sign or from looking at her as if she were a stranger.

Come morning the whore wouldn't remember a thing.

"Where's the door?" Yennefer repeated once she was sure she had the woman under her spell. Without hesitation the whore moved to point out a panel in the wall, carefully disguised amongst the wood in such a way that it was impossible to see if you didn't know it was there. Yennefer raised her hands to the door, felt around it and, when it slid open, smiled with satisfaction.

She didn't enter right away and instead spend a bit more time with the woman, deriving a bit more information about what was going on inside, and then sent her on her way.

When she finally made her way inside, she was disguised as the whore she'd been talking to, a food tray balanced within her hands. What she found was Geralt, Kain, Dijkstra and another man that had entered in a while before her and happened to be a cause for celebration. It didn't take Yennefer long to learn his name as he appeared to be handsy, similarly like the rest of the males in the room.

Yennefer's face endured only as long as a smile would allow and someone else came to take over, to show him off to one of the spaces designated in the spacious room for a more private setting.

Kain had disappeared first with some petite-looking elf and then Geralt had followed with another. Yennefer didn't know why she'd stayed, why she'd loomed in the shadows with an empty tray to watch as Geralt quite clearly took pleasure in the unfamiliar prostitute, and why, when she eventually dragged her gaze from the sight and decided to leave the establishment and return to the inn, she hadn't brought the structure down on them.

* * *

When the water turned cold again, Ciri finally climbed out of the tub. She put the empty bottle on the table, her steps uncoordinated as she made her way over to the wardrobe where she retrieved a clean shirt. She put it on and proceeded to push the bed over to the window, its legs scraping against the wood of the floor as she worked.

The plate of food was snatched off the table once she finished and she settled down atop her bed, shoulder against the wall and gaze on the moon outside while she nibbled her dinner.

The Inn was mostly abandoned for the night, save for a handful of troubadours and performers seated around a table having a fiery debate.

Priscilla didn't spare Yennefer a smile as she had other times, Yennefer assumed because she was still upset about spending a little time as a toad.

And also because she feared her.

Dandelion had made a point of regaling her with stories. He rose from his chair and crossed the hall toward her.

"You found them?" he asked, a tad concerned.

Not for her, for his friends' safety. Yennefer nodded.

"Has Ciri come back?"

"Upstairs."

Yennefer started for the stairs.

"I trust Geralt is unharmed?" Dandelion asked.

Yennefer said nothing but she pivoted on the landing to give him a look, one that matched the intensity of that she'd given the whore. Unlike her, Dandelion didn't shrink away from her. Yennefer didn't care to assure him, knowing that at some point the Witcher would do it himself, anyway, and continued to Ciri's room. Yennefer found her already in bed. She shut the door behind her, moved toward Ciri, and slid onto the mattress behind her, sliding in behind her to draw her close in the same manner she'd done a night ago when she sought comfort.

"You smell like a tankard," Yennefer added, speaking into her hair. She also smelt clean and felt slightly more chilled beneath her arms.

Ciri had already pushed her half-eaten plate away by the time Yennefer entered. She didn't protest being held, some of her insistence for privacy having been lost in her intoxicated state.

"I had some wine," she revealed, her green eyes still set on the night sky outside.

"Celebrating?" Yennefer asked, although she figured there was no chance of that and could pick up her disturbed energy.

"Just because it's lovely." And it was. For now. "Do you like my new bracelet. It's made from your dimeritium chains."

"There's symmetry in that," Yennefer mused, taking a hold of her arm to get a better look at the bracelet on her wrist. "Guess Emhyr gave us two gifts. How does it feel?"

"Like a bracelet. What does it feel like to you?"

"Like agony," Yennefer added. "Is it helping neutralize your magic?"

"No. Supposedly it makes my magic harder to track. For the hunt, you know?"

"Smart. Whose idea was that?"

"Kain. Maybe we will have to get one for him, too, eventually. When they start hunting him." Ciri was still convinced it would happen.

"Probably a good idea. You could talk to Emhyr about it when you return to him after we defeat The Wild Hunt."

"Oh, no. I will get it elsewhere. I am not telling Emhyr anything about Kain."

"I wasn't suggesting you tell him about Kain, but perhaps ask him for another set of chains. You can always pretend you don't already have something in place for yourself."

"There are other places we can get it. I don't want anything from that man."

Yennefer hemmed her agreement and then slowly released Ciri so that she could roll onto her back. "You should sleep while you can. The next few days are going to be rough."

"All days are rough," Ciri said but obediently lay down anyway, her head spinning and her fading consciousness already lulling her towards sleep.

Yennefer watched Ciri for a time. She was brooding and upset with Geralt, although she supposed she shouldn't be, given the djinn's effects had been broken and their love shattered. Geralt didn't owe Yennefer anything, least of all loyalty, and yet she expected him to want to, to have considered her and what she'd been trying to get through to him during their time together.

Maybe she hadn't tried hard enough?

Once Ciri's breathing evened out, the sorceress touched an index to her relaxed face and swept aside errant curls with tender affection.

Kain, also, had been pretty deceptive tonight. He knew what Yennefer's darling girl felt for him and unfortunately, given what the sorceress had seen, she knew another heart was going to take a beating. Yennefer, however, didn't want to be the one to do that to Ciri and therefore hadn't mentioned it, wishing to spare her from it as long as she could. Ciri had already endured so much.

Yennefer continued to touch her, sweeping aside anything that came up to mar Ciri's features or suggested she might have been having a nightmare, until eventually she too drifted and fell into an agitated sleep.

* * *

He didn't come at once. But he did come, as he always did when Ciri had not guarded her mind with magic.

_Eredin is too close. She can feel the heat of his body, even though she has always imagined him to be cold. Cold as the ice-magic he and his men wield._

_"We will see each other soon," he whispers smoothly, taking hold of Ciri's throat with his large, pale hand. His fingers squeeze her to the point of pain. "I am coming to get you, beauty. To take you away. Are you ready for a new adventure?"_

_She doesn't know where her courage comes from but everything feels different this time. She can move. She can speak. His hold on her is not as strong as it used to be._

_"Get out," Ciri hisses, glaring up at the elf, her chin jutting out stubbornly._

_The hint of surprise ghosts across Eredin's face. "What was that?" he asks, as though not sure he heard the girl correctly. _

_His fingers tighten on her throat and now they burn like fire. _

_"Get out!" she demands more firmly. "Get out! GET OUT!"_

_A flash of green. A cry of pain. And the elf is gone._

Ciri woke with a gasp, her hand immediately going to her throat. It had seemed too good to be real. For a moment she wondered whether it had just been a dream.

But no. When she carefully slipped out of bed without waking Yennefer and moved to the dresser with its looking glass, she knew that was not the case. It had been real.

The king's fingers still marred her skin.


	40. Chapter 40

The first rays of morning sunlight shone bright red and hot against Geralt's eyelids. Wincing, he stirred and found Amrynn still draped over his side. She groaned softly in meek protest and made herself comfortable when he insisted on bringing himself into a sitting position. Squinting against the sun, he waited until his eyes adjusted, and looked over the floor in search of his clothes.

Kain had been dozing on the other side of the bed and now observed the Witcher, squinting, stifling a yawn. The morning in Passiflora met Geralt of Rivia with weariness and dry mouth, while granting his brother with the same set and a small addition of a heavy head.

"It's like I woke up back at school," Kain rubbed his face and pushed himself to sit up.

Geralt chuckled. "Yeah, brings back memories."

"The baths are refreshed," Fealinn peeked in between the curtains. "Your breakfast is served."

Geralt and Kain picked up their towels and went to the bathtubs. Thaler was snoring quietly on the massage couch; Dijkstra's curtains were drawn and his louder snoring of a bull resonated across the parlor.

"Yes, now the image of School festival morning is complete," Kain remarked, smiling, and stepped into the tub, lowering into the warm water with a sigh of pleasure. He submerged, rubbing his scalp and face under water, washing off the massage oils and incenses.

Geralt made a quick work of washing and drying, and soon enough they sat at the table, quietly to not wake Thaler, and took care of scrambled eggs with bacon and sausages, freshly baked bread with butter and mulled wine. Fealinn helped herself to some bread and eggs, as well, and prepared to leave. She leaned to Kain's ear pretending to say goodbye, and whispered: "Yennefer was here last night. Just briefly."

She pecked his cheek, picked up her bag and left.

After a bit, the witchers finished their wine and followed.

"Hope to see you back soon, boys," Marquise Serenity smiled, fanning herself, and curtsied in response to their head bows.

"We shall have to make time, milady," Geralt said.

"Ah, you, sweet talker," she said, her hand making a dismissive wave. "You certainly shall."

The streets were busy, and already at this early hour the town criers were working their vocal cords off gathering crowds. The witchers maneuvered between people gawking and buzzing with discussions.

"Yennefer's been there last night," Kain said.

Geralt's step faltered subtly; he stared at his brother momentarily, digesting the news. "What for?"

Kain shrugged, "Women and secrets don't mix. I would bet on her intention of checking things out."

"Oh well, I suppose she checked it out to her liking." Geralt's brow furrowed with annoyance, but then smoothened out slightly as he cast another look at Kain, curious. "You know that girl?"

"How you figure?"

Geralt smiled a little. "You don't pass on someone like Ciri for a masseuse or a whore, unless it's pure racial preference. Which I don't suppose mattered much, since I was with the one you could've preferred." He thought about it for another second as an idea came to him. "Did Yennefer use magic? Was that what I sensed…"

"She certainly did to disguise herself. But I sensed it before, too. That girl… she uses magic to conceal herself. She is Aen Seidhe. I do know her, she used to be like me. Perhaps Dijkstra had some secrets of his own, some talisman we haven't seen. But there was magic, yes."

"Strange… she seemed human enough."

"Her magic includes alteration of people's perception – in order to make them see her as human and forget her when she leaves. She kept an extra eye on us last night."

"Were you lovers before?"

"Not before. Not currently, either… not in the traditional sense of the word."

Geralt frowned, pondering, then nodded. "I see. Dijkstra was watching."

"They always do. They always have. Some things never change, Geralt. Just like the places they prefer to meet."

"Mm. Right."

* * *

Ciri got dressed, picked up her half-empty plate and the entirely empty wine bottle and headed downstairs. She placed both items on the bar counter in front of a very subdued Dandelion. From the looks of it he had gotten his fair share of drink too and not a lot of sleep.

He grunted in acknowledgement at Ciri. She returned this gesture with a nod of her head. Then she made for the door.

"Seems like we don't have time for Vizima, after all," Kain mused as they were approaching _Rosemary and Thyme_.

"Maybe tomorrow – if we survive the bridge," Geralt responded. "Or later today to not lose time. There's a ride ahead…"

"Or maybe we should ask Ciri for help with that."

Geralt stopped by the stables, peering at him with both dismay and doubt. "I don't want to expose her to Emhyr before it's her own time when she's ready."

"I didn't say she should take us to the palace. It can be that place where she brought you from the dungeon."

"Hmm. Maybe. We'll see. Radovid's the first on the agenda."

The door opened when they came up, and Ciri walked into them from the inn. Geralt flashed a smile.

"Look who's up so early. Where you going?"

Ciri paused in her stride, flinching against the bright sunlight while attempting to meet Geralt's gaze.

"Walk," she said simply, shielding her eyes with a hand. "I'll be back in a bit."

Geralt shook his head. "Better not do it alone. This city didn't turn safe overnight. Your hair gets fairer and your scar is there. The flyers with your face are still on the walls."

"I will be fine," she replied, a flash of annoyance making itself known inside her. They were wanted, too, but apparently that didn't matter. "Yennefer is still asleep. Don't wake her. I think she could use the rest."

She let the door to the inn close behind her and brushed past them.

Geralt caught her by the arm, stalling. "I'm serious. Don't do this. Please."

Had it been anyone else, Ciri would probably have ignored their request. But there had always been something about Geralt that made her pause in these situations when she wanted to rebel. Even now that she was no longer a child in need of minding. Respect.

That didn't mean it made her any less frustrated.

"Fine," she said, gently removing herself from Geralt's grasp and making for the stable instead.

"We've got to hurry, Geralt," Kain reminded.

"Yeah. Go, I'm behind you."

Kain went inside, and the Witcher followed Ciri.

"Everything all right?" he asked, approaching.

Ciri headed straight for Kelpie, reaching over the door to her booth in order to stroke her muzzle and rest her forehead against hers. She wanted to be in the forest where it would be easier to find a source of power to draw from in order to heal the burns on her throat, but since that appeared to not be an option, she would have to try and make do without it.

"Everything is fine," she said once she'd noticed Geralt following her, her forehead still resting against Kelpie's. "Just tired of being trapped, is all."

He sighed, feeling both guilty and pained. "I'm sorry, Ciri. The city won't be safe today, nor tomorrow. We're getting closer to the Hunt's visit."

"It will never be safe. There will always be something," she said, brushing her hand along Kelpie's neck. "Doesn't matter. I'll survive."

"Whether the Hunt is there or not, the world will never be safe," Geralt said in a gentle tone. "This world is not meant to be safe for anyone. No mortal world ever is. But you, with your gifts and power, are safer than any people. Nevertheless, there can be things we cannot predict. I'd prefer to keep you safer and watching after people close to us. Maybe you'll have to protect Dandelion and Priscilla."

Ciri shot him a reproving glare, though not without fondness.

"Dandelion and Priscilla's safety is not the reason you want me to stay here. Don't try and make this anything other than it is."

Geralt met her glare with a stern expression as if cut from stone. "I never lie to you. I don't know what happens after we do what Dijkstra wants us to. There is no one else I can count on to make sure Dandelion stays safe."

"Except Yennefer, of course. And Triss. Zoltan," Ciri named, turning to face him. "Don't worry. I'll stay. But I don't have it in me to be happy about it right now."

Geralt's frown deepened. "What's on your neck?"

Her hand instinctually rose to her throat, then to the collar of her jerkin to adjust it. "I made a mistake. But it is handled now."

Geralt stepped closer, concerned. "What does it mean?"

She sighed, embarrassed. "It means I fell asleep last night before I had taken my draught."

"Eredin did this? I'll kill that bastard. The day will come when he'll die before my eyes."

He pulled her into an embrace, kissed her temple.

"You need to be more careful."

"I will be," she promised, though she felt if she had to be more careful she might as well lock herself in her room and wrap herself in a thick layer of blankets. "When are you leaving?"

"As soon as possible." He released her reluctantly.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know. I can't predict how it goes. We'll have to be back today."

She nodded. "You better be. Otherwise I will come for you."

That should urge him to return sooner rather than later.

The Witcher laughed softly. "I know you will. Are you sure you're all right? Anything happened while I was gone?"

"I'm fine. I'd be better if everyone stopped asking me if I am alright," she teased softly, nudging his shoulder.

"I'll stop when I'm dead. Before that, you're the most important part of my life. I'll always care if you're all right."

"But the more people ask, the more I am forced to drudge up everything that is not alright," she reasoned. "Let us keep it to once a day, hm? Keep me sane?"

He gave her a cunning smile. "I'll consider your request."

He gave Kelpie's muzzle a stroke and headed for the inn.

She watched him go, then settled down on the stable floor with her back to Kelpie's door, her eyes closed and her focus entirely on the healing magic Kain had taught her.

* * *

Yennefer woke up alone. She wasn't worried. She took her time getting up, making use of the bath that she'd emptied and filled herself, applying her make-up, redoing her hair and pulling on her attire from the day before. There wasn't a smudge on it and what she did happen to spot she used a little magic to clear away.

When she was satisfied with her appearance she headed downstairs to grab some breakfast.

"We're talking about killing kings, Geralt. Do you have any idea what will happen afterwards?" Dandelion's eyes were widening the more scary thoughts came to his mind. "Panic and slaughter. What will they do about that?"

"There's not much to do until the troops accept the loss of their leader and stop." Geralt shrugged and drank the ale Dandelion poured them. "What is with the dimeritium?"

"Half or so is done," Dandelion said. "Zoltan had to catch some shuteye. Said he'll be done soon."

Geralt nodded. "All right. Ciri said Yennefer is still sleeping. When she wakes, ask her to keep this place protected until it all settles."

Dandelion gave an acidic simper. "I wouldn't talk to her or even near her after last night. Nor would I recommend it to anyone."

"What happened?"

The poet considered him. "You haven't seen her, I take it. But be certain she saw you. And now she turns into a hissing feral cat when anyone reminds her of you."

"Mm. Wonderful." Geralt sighed and drank his ale.

Yennefer spotted Geralt and Dandelion huddled together in conversation, their faces solemn and thoughtful. It hadn't even occurred to her to run in the opposite direction or to give them a wide berth.

"Where's your golden-haired troubadour?" Yennefer asked. Usually Priscilla was pottering around the kitchen, tossing together some kind of meal for everyone.

"Nursing a headache from last night," Dandelion retorted.

"And breakfast?"

Dandelion gestured to the pantry. Yennefer's sighed with light resignation and went to tend to the making of her breakfast, doing a quick scan of what they had.

"See what I mean?" Dandelion gestured after Yennefer when she disappeared. "She's about to breathe fire like a dragon. How bad was it, Geralt? Or, better put, how good was it last night?"

Kain restrained a smile; the Witcher gave the troubadour an ironic look.

"It's Passiflora, Dandelion. How good could it have been?"

Dandelion rubbed the bridge of his nose and drank his ale. "I don't know what you'll do, Geralt, but fix it so she doesn't turn anyone into a toad. I won't make a good toad, Geralt. I don't want to have to make do."

Yennefer threw herself together an omelet with all the trimmings, making it for herself as she'd always done and as if she were at home.

When Yennefer was done she added toast into the mix and carried it out into the main dining area along with some tea so she could sit in quiet.

She needed something in her stomach before she tackled anything today.

The troubadour grew silent and morose when Yennefer returned. They all followed her with their gazes until she settled at the table.

Geralt finished his ale and looked at Kain.

"We better hurry," the latter said quietly.

"If you're scared to talk to mages, stay around Ciri," Geralt said, peering at the poet. "Watch over each other."

A fright reflected on Dandelion's face. "What do you expect his troops will do?"

"At least for a while, they will be fighting. It depends on Dijkstra and Roche - on their men."

"Normal citizens don't expect anything like that to happen," Kain put in. "No one will be ready; there are crowds everywhere. And no one will warn them to hide."

"Gods," Dandelion winced.

"A word, Witchers." Philippa observed them from the stairs and began to ascend. No one had noticed her coming down there.

"There we go," Geralt sighed, getting up. He headed for the stairs with Kain in tow.

Yennefer's eyes narrowed in Philippa's direction when she summoned The witchers and saw them go.

They hadn't cared to fill her in. Didn't matter. If it was of importance they'd be having their group gathering. Dandelion, however, had shifted from behind the counter to move toward the table in front of her.

He usually only approached her if he really needed to.

Yennefer lowered her gaze to her plate, to the eggs she was scooping onto the corner of her dry toast and smoothed with her fork.

"How's your eggs?"

Yennefer locked up, spearing the troubadour with a blank look.

"Better for me making it. Your lady doesn't know how to use spices."

"She isn't a herbalist," he excused with a pinch of antipathy.

"Probably for the best."

Dandelion leaned forward, choosing to overlook the insult.

"You're ignoring Geralt."

"Aren't you observant," Yennefer added dispassionately.

"We'll be going into battle, don't you think that you should talk about it?"

Yennefer cut off the square of toast and egg and shoved it into her mouth, chewing around it, purely remaining silent as she stared at him.

"Fine—but your attitude isn't helping."

Yennefer snorted softly. Dandelion stood and headed back over to the counter.

* * *

"What is it you wish to talk about?" the Witcher asked folding his arms.

"Don't ask questions you know the answers to, Geralt," Philippa smirked. "It makes you look stupid."

She was alone in the room, and Geralt wondered where Triss and Margarita might have gone.

"What do you want?"

Philippa chortled to herself and went to sit at the desk. "It might come as a shock, given you insist on being slow, but I intend to help, whether you like it or not. I cannot afford you fucking it up."

"What can we fuck up, exactly?"

"Oh, please!" she scoffed. "You don't want to annoy me, I assure you. Stop trying. Whatever you tell Radovid, he won't believe you and will kill you right there. Your pretty brother can sink his ship and men, but that will start a whole new war and hell, and you," she looked to Kain, "as a druid won't like it."

"Have you been eavesdropping?" Geralt gauged her. "I saw no owl, nor any whore of your shapes. How?"

"Water," Kain said quietly.

Philippa's head snapped to him, her lips curved subtly. "I see where the wits went in your family, boys. True. Dijkstra is a grand mind, but when it comes to magic, he never learned."

"So, how can you help?" Geralt interrupted. "Let me drag you through the streets in chains?"

"Don't be silly. I can add weight to your demand." She held out a hand to him, her fingers opened revealing a ring with a huge ruby. "This belonged to his father. He might believe you speak the truth if you show this to him."

The Witcher took the ring and turned it in his fingers pensively. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," she folded her arms. "No more than my investment into the cause. I want him dead that badly."

"Mm," said Geralt, his expression doubtful.

"You may go," she said. "Don't ruin this. Good luck - you'll need it."

The men turned and left her suite, Geralt pocketed the ring as he went.

Before the witchers made it for the first floor, Triss caught up to them on the second.

"Don't worry about anything," she whispered, squeezing Geralt's forearm. "We'll protect this place. Look after yourselves. Be careful."

"We shall," Geralt smiled and pecked her cheek before they went downstairs and Triss headed for the Ruby suite.

* * *

It took her quite some time but when Ciri got back on her feet, her throat was all but healed. Satisfied with the results, she headed back into the inn, dreading it. Sitting and waiting had never been her strong suits. Ciri much preferred being in the midst of battle. It felt unnatural to take on the role women usually had in this world – huddled together in fear and wondering if their loved ones would come home.

She found Yennefer at one of the tables and sat down next to her, idly toying with her bracelet as she watched Dandelion go about his work while shooting the occasional glance in the sorceress' direction. What had happened there?

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Not today," Ciri said, tearing her eyes off Dandelion to meet Yennefer's gaze. "Not got much of an appetite, to be honest."

"You should keep your strength up."

Just because The Hunt had given them five days, didn't mean they wouldn't cut short on their time and just show up to do damage.

Yennefer smoothed some more of the omelet onto the second piece of toast, cut it in half and offered Ciri the little bit.

"Thank you," Ciri said, appreciating the gesture even if her stomach was protesting. She took a small bite to satisfy the sorceress' concern. "What are we to do with ourselves while the men are off?"

"Off where?"

"To kill Radovid," Ciri said casually. "That's what they have to do in order for Dijkstra's help."

When the witchers returned to the first floor, Ciri and Yennefer were sitting together as if confiding secrets. Dandelion was finishing something with his books at the bar counter. He shot a look between them over the counter surface.

Yennefer glanced within Dandelion's direction, and then at the stairs when the two witchers appeared again as they headed for the counter. Toe to toe.

Yennefer sighed.

"And this isn't a group scheme, because?"

Ciri shrugged. "Guessing Dijkstra doesn't want us involved. It's the witchers he wants."

"Try to stay indoors, all together," Geralt said, glancing between the women and Dandelion. "You're safer here."

The witchers headed for the door.

Yennefer wondered why that was. He'd never been shy of the sorceresses before, even if he was weary of Philippa.

Before she could ask 'what about them' the two were already headed for the door with a determined stride.

"I suppose we stay here and knit."

Ciri couldn't help a slight sarcastic smile, but when she turned towards the two witchers her expression was genuine. "Be safe. Or I will come fetch you."

"We'll be fine," Geralt smiled over his shoulder, and stepped out the door with Kain following.

Yennefer stared at the closed door considerately once they'd left.

"We should follow them. Provide help where they need it."

"Most certainly not," Dandelion interjected, shuffling from behind the counter as if he expected Yennefer to jump to her feet and give chase.

"You're to stay here. Both of you."

Yennefer speared him with an apathetic look.

"We need you here in case of an attack."

"And Triss, Philippa, Margarita?"

Dandelion scoffed. "I only trust one of those women."

Yennefer shrugged.

"I promised Geralt I would stay. So I shall," Ciri said, though she wasn't happy about it. "We should ward the inn, just in case." She looked at Yennefer expectantly. "Teach me how?"

Yennefer probably would go if they didn't come back in time but she hadn't bothered to announce that.

She picked up what remained of the other half of the omelet and stood.

"Come. We'll use charms to do so."

"What kind of charms?" Ciri asked, her attention immediately drawn to the task at hand.

"Black Tourmaline. It'll block negative intention and any psychic attacks should Radovid get any idea to use of his prisoners against us."

Yennefer led Ciri upstairs to Geralt's room, moving to her haunches beside her magic-chest, reaching inside for the two stones she knew were safely tucked away. Yennefer kept a strictly up to date with everything she had and would need – never leaving much to chance. Along with it she removed an added rope they could weave to fit around them in order to make pockets for them.

Yennefer showed her how to do the one and let Ciri do the second.

Ciri took a seat on the floor next to the chest, busying herself with the crystal and thread Yennefer had tasked her with. "Do we have to enchant them?"

Yennefer nodded. "With a simple incantation. Are you able to use your magic for such tasks? Have you tried?"

"I haven't tried an incantation for a while," Ciri admitted, holding up the crystal for the sorceress' approval. "I've only been using my mind."

Yennefer inspected the thread, the way it hugged the stone, making sure that it matched her own and then held them side by side.

"You're more adapt at learning than you were when you were a child." Yennefer hadn't meant that as a slight, either, but as a praise. "Would you care to try?"

Yennefer held out one of the stones toward her.

"Well, it helps knowing Geralt has not sent me away," Ciri smirked, taking the crystal back. "What do I do?"

Yennefer returned her playful sentiment and then rose, letting her carry one of the stones as they moved toward the doors.

"We're going to tuck them somewhere around the doors. You need find a spot to conceal them, so that they won't be easily discovered at first glance."

Yennefer started on the back, on the second door that lead into the inn and was mostly used by the few staff and stable hands.

"Amddiffyn y rhai o dan y to hwn," Yennefer said, punctuating each word, keeping it clear so Ciri wouldn't have a hard time remembering it when it came to her turn.

The stone flashed brightly as if imbued with light and then disappearing, humming with energy you could only feel if you knew what you were looking for.

She dropped it into a basket filled with grain at the door, pushing it to the very bottom so even if it was searched or ended up spilt it wouldn't be quickly discovered.

"Now you. Front entrance."

Ciri watched her teacher carefully, trying to memorize the incantation used. When it was her turn, she strode into the front room and searched for a spot near the entrance where she could tuck the crystal. In the end, she settled on a crevice in the wall just above the doorjamb.

Holding the crystal in her hands, she cast an uncertain glance at Yennefer and invoked her magic, trying to imbue the charm with all the protection she could muster. "Amddiffyn y...rhai o dan y to...hwn."

With Yennefer's look of satisfaction, Ciri rose onto the tips of her toes and stuffed the crystal away from sight.

Yennefer brought her hands together and gently clapped. "You're so much stronger than you were before."

The sorceress wasn't usually the type to hand out praise, but she hadn't seen the girl in so long and given all that Ciri endured, and would bear, it didn't hurt.

"Soon we'll be able to form our own society."

Yennefer smiled, pivoted away from the entrance and headed to finish the remainder of her tea.

Ciri smiled, but it faded slightly as she watched Yennefer walk away. Their own society. Even with Yennefer at the helm, that scared her. She understood the need for sorceresses to join together. Strength in numbers. But Ciri wanted no part of it. It all smelled too similar to The Lodge.

She wiped her hands clean on the thighs of her leggings and cast a glance out the window. So far, it was quiet.

* * *

"We should've left the swords someplace to pick up later," Geralt mused while they strolled along the docks toward Radovid's ship. "They'll take the swords and hardly return them."

"Had we left them behind, it's obvious how we come prepared," Kain said. "Though I feel your pain."

"Mm. My sword and my horse."

Kain smiled. "If you think it's easy to take Roach from you, you're as naïve as Philippa accuses. She gave me hell back at the keep when we went to get the foglets. Your horse has no tolerance for any hints of your profession."

"None of them ever tolerated my profession," Geralt said with a small dreamy smile creasing his mouth.

"You should consider getting yourself a griffin sidekick."

"Mhm, why not a wyvern?"

"No loyalty."

Radovid kept an excessive amount of guards on the shore around the ship, but most of them were bored out of their skulls to stand for days and nights and do nothing. No people or mages were bold enough to venture any ill plot, and the Redanians trudged around the docks like forlorn ghosts armed with pikes and shields with the white eagle of Redania plastered on them.

"Witcher Geralt," the Chief of Royal Guard acknowledged lazily, his eyes flicked to Kain scanning from head to toe. "What brings ye with this… who's this?"

"It's my fellow witcher," Geralt said, casting a quick glance at his brother. "We bring news on Philippa Eilhart."

"The two of you?" the Chief looked disdainful. "In that case, surrender your weapons and follow me."

They did.

There was quite a number of guards on the deck, as well as Witch Hunters. All were staring at the newcomers like hungry jackals ready to snarl.

"Your Majesty, it's the Witcher… um… the witchers. About Philippa Eilhart."

Radovid sat on a tall chair adorned with red velvet, looking both bored and disgusted as if constantly smelling something foul. He squinted at the witchers, looking from one to another as if they had already failed him.

"I hope you brought something better than empty promises and sheer nothing, Witcher," Radovid said. "Who's that? Your extra tongue in case you forget what to say?"

"No, sire," Geralt said. "Since your task you've entrusted me with was Philippa, I decided to play it safer and wiser and accepted my friend's help. Together we managed more than I could do alone following her ever changing and entangled trails."

"And what is it you've learned?" Radovid drawled, rubbing his forehead as though the sole sight of Geralt gave him a migraine.

"I know where she is. Her hideout is right under your nose, sire. She prudently considers it to be the safest, for no sane man could think she would be so reckless having already lost so much by your hand."

The King considered it carefully, studying Geralt and Kain, stroking his chin. "And where would that hideout be?"

"There's a house on the bridge that leads to Temple Isle. The very last door on the end of it. She hides there, and no one bothers her."

"Why wouldn't you bring her here how I ordered you to do?"

"But, sire, it's one of the most powerful sorceresses, and I'm just a witcher. Even the two of us can merely track her down without engaging a fight to destroy a whole part of the city. Plus, we do have some magic in us, which makes it easier to get alerted to our closeness. We managed to steal this ring to provide you the proof – to not insult your intelligence by demanding you trust our word." Geralt produced the ring and handed it to Radovid.

The King studied it a moment, turning it in his fingers. "It's my father's ring," he said pensively. "Philippa used it to stamp her decrees and then distributed them as the word of the king." He looked up at the Witcher, squinting with a small, unpleasant smile creeping onto his mouth. "Do you fear her to dare attack? And instead you crept into her hole to snatch a trinket like you were a rat."

"No," said Geralt, frowning as if insulted. "But I do believe you wish to kill her yourself. I didn't want to spook your prey, merely found the location."

"And you need a second one, why?"

"Back up is never a bad idea when dealing with mages, sire."

"It took much less time to follow all the leads and puzzle them together," added Kain.

Radovid was still sneering lopsidedly, toying with the ring. "I see. Very well, but you're coming with me. Hubrecht!"

"Yes, Sire!" responded one of the Hunters.

"Gather the men. We're going witch-hunting."

"How many, Sire?"

Radovid got up from his chair and smiled like a shark. "All of them."

* * *

Yennefer and Ciri sat in silence after they'd put the wards in place, drinking mead, contented to just be in one another's company.

"It's taken long enough but I can finally see the family resemblance," Dandelion pointed out, shifting to the opposite side of the table to join them. "You're brooding."

Yennefer didn't bother trying to deny it.

"You're not going to even glare at me?" he asked, his features that of amazement.

Yennefer shrugged and downed the remainder of her drink.

"This is pitiful," he emphasized, getting up, moving toward the counter to refill the mead and to bring another for himself.

"What do you usually do when your loved ones are in potential danger?" Ciri asked the bard, following his progress to and from the bar with her shrewd gaze. "Dance on the table?"

"You would prefer me to panic and cry cowering in the corner?" Dandelion looked at Ciri with ironic inquiry. "Who would that help and would it at all?"

"Well, it might be entertaining," Ciri shrugged and hid a smile as she drank from her mead.

Yennefer's fingers tapped the side of her mug, listening to the two converse, her lips twitching into a semblance of a smile.

Triss and Margarita descended the stairs and approached the table.

"Are we disturbing?" Triss asked, looking directly at Yennefer. They hadn't spoken privately since she'd heard Geralt spent the night in Triss's room.

Yennefer made no gesture for Triss to sit, but she did anyway, Margarita slipping onto the bench directly in front of Ciri. Both women smiled at Dandelion who clambered to his feet and went to get them each something to drink, insisting that since the crowd had grown and there was little much else to do that he should serenade them with his latest work in progress.

The lyrics had to do with the white wolf obtaining a blood brother, of spells gone wrong and memories lost yet again along with love.

Triss and Yennefer's gaze locked and acknowledgement dawned on the redhead's face. He hadn't told her as Yennefer suspected he would or might have.

"Enough of your prattling," Yennefer stated, directing a hand gesture at the troubadours lute. The instrument soared from his hands in an arc, and he dove for it, catching it before it could land on the floor and rise in a dust of splinters. Yennefer was almost impressed by the speed he displayed. He glared at her, his mouth open with indignation.

"Hurt me," he snapped. "But don't hurt my lute!"

The atmosphere became noticeably more tense once the two sorceresses joined them, and Dandelion did not help. Ciri had never truly witnessed Yennefer and Triss argue, but she knew enough to be aware of the bad blood between them. Even if the redhead seemed eager to pretend otherwise.

Ciri couldn't understand how Triss was able to pretend to be Yennefer's friend while attempting to seduce Geralt behind her back whenever she got the chance. It did not make any sense to her and she wondered if the two had always been rivals of some sort.

Margarita was staring at the front door with a mild smile, then eventually looked at Ciri. "Your work?" she asked kindly, gesturing in the direction where Ciri had hidden her protection charm earlier.

For some reason, Ciri felt abashed. But she nodded. "Yennefer taught me."

"Very impressive," Margarita said, her curls bouncing around her head. She looked much better now than she had when she first arrived. Like she'd been healing. Just as Triss had been.

"Thank you," Ciri responded politely, unable to help glancing at Yennefer to gauge her reaction as well.

Yennefer averted her gaze to examine Margarita. All magic had a signature but for her to recognize it so quickly was troublesome.

"You're practicing more?" Triss asked, tearing her gaze away from Yennefer, looking more jovial as she focused on Ciri.

Ciri nodded. "A little bit. When I'm able."

Triss beamed. "That's wonderful. Do you like it?"

"I always enjoyed it. I just haven't had much of a chance to experiment. Not with The Hunt tracking my signals."

"And you can now?" Margarita asked. "How's that?"

Yennefer sat back on her chair. Dandelion had drifted off to the side to make sure that his lute hadn't been knocked out of tune.

"They already know I'm here," Ciri said, shrugging. "It gives me another day or two to practice."

Triss looked forlorn but Margarita looked hopeful.

"If you were with us," Margarita began gently, tentatively, testing the waters, "we could find another way to help with that."

Yennefer stared. "That's why you're here."

"Considering how well it went the first time," Triss interjected. "Not to say that we're hoping for the worst outcome, but if for whatever reasons we aren't able to stop them in the next few days, she should be given the best opportunity to survive."

"And that's with you?" Yennefer asked sarcastically.

Triss pondered it a moment and then nodded.

"I appreciate the offer," Ciri said, though even if Philippa was not present, she couldn't help but think the sorceresses had ulterior motives. They always did. "But my place is with Geralt and Yennefer. If you wish to remain with us should we be on the losing side of this battle again, that will also be appreciated. But I am not leaving my family."

"No one's asking you to," Triss inclined, taking over for Margarita. "But it may have to be something you have to think about. What if we don't defeat The Hunt?"

"We will," Yennefer added with a tone that was akin to a growl.

Margarita hardly responded and Triss remained unconcerned.

"Have you considered that? What you'll do?"

"She doesn't need your pessimism," Yennefer interjected

Triss opened her mouth to further argue.

"She needs to think of the future," Margarita offered helpfully.

"Those were your terms before," Ciri pointed out. Not Triss' personal terms, of course. But the Lodge's. "No more Geralt. What has changed?"

She chose to ignore the other topics, for now.

"Everything," Triss added.

"We've lost in numbers," Margarita mused thoughtfully. "We no longer have any room to make demands or negotiate inhumane terms."

Yennefer snorted. The only reason either was saying that is because they'd managed to convince Philippa to leave the negotiation to them. That would change. How else would they keep her influence?

"It was never inhumane," Triss argued, glancing at the woman beside her. "It was strategic."

"You tried to make me your whore!" Ciri leaned forward and fixed both women with an incredulous look. "You were going to send me to some princeling to be his mistress, to give him children, in order to give you a way into his court. To influence his mind. You did not ask whether this was something I wanted. It was something you expected. Something you demanded. Pardon me if I find that very hard to let go of."

"It would be a shame for power like that to go to waste, Ciri," Triss stated absolutely and with little apology. "Mating with someone of similar breeding, with your power and his influence. You'd have been an unstoppable force."

"I don't want to be an unstoppable force! I just want to be left alone to live my life the way I want to. You have all beaten the desire to have anything to do with royalty and political organizations right out of me." Ciri emptied her mug and stood, striding over to the bar to help herself to a refill.

Yennefer didn't like where the conversation had gone but there was little she could do to stop it, knowing that this battle Ciri needed to fight alone.

Triss and Margarita communicated in silence and then the redhead stood, trailing behind Ciri, her innocent puppy expression in place.

"I understand," Triss stated. "You're young, it's hard to see the bigger picture and Kain is blinding you. There will come a time when things like seeking love will be secondary to that of preventing a war or ensuring peace."

Ciri whirled on the redhead, her eyes blazing. "You need to stop talking now, Triss. Enough."

It was so strange to fight like this with someone she cared about. Someone she had cared about as a child. Why couldn't Triss see Ciri's point of view the same way Yennefer and Geralt did? If she truly loved her, as she claimed to do, shouldn't she?

"When do you suppose we should talk about it? How long can you keep running, Ciri, before it becomes too much?"

Ciri moved very close to the sorceress, meeting her gaze head-on, only inches separating their faces. "We have talked. You just refuse to listen. Because my answer is not the one you want."

Triss narrowed her eyes. "Remember Kaer Morhen, Ciri? Remember that talk about neutrality we had with the witchers? Do you remember how you thought about it back then? How you agreed that when one can do something good for the realm, one has to act and not cower beneath a neutrality banner while watching the lands burn and people die?"

"I never said I was neutral. I said I want nothing to do with your Lodge, nor the Emperor you now all want me to return to. I am done letting people use me for their own gain."

"What about the world, Ciri? You want to bury your gifts in your own selfish gains and do nothing for the people that perhaps that gift was given you for? Perhaps you were meant to be the savior of people - those people who fight for their freedom and peace when there is nothing to hold on to and hope for the best? You could bring peace. Would you not want to?"

"Or perhaps I was meant to be their destroyer. The prophecies can never quite get that clear, can they?" Ciri sneered. "I will help this world and the people in it. But not by being anyone's puppet. I will find my own way. Think me selfish if you wish. I don't care. I did not ask for this curse."

"No one ever asks for any curses or powers that come beyond what people can learn," Triss said. "Gifts are never meant for just one person, and your power is not a curse. It might seem like that to you, but only because you haven't used it enough to help those in need of freedom, health and a peaceful home for their children. You would be viewing it in a quite different light then."

"You speak as though the only chance to do good for this world is by joining The Lodge. You are wrong. There isn't even a Lodge left to join! I will find my own way. My own way to help people. Now I am done with this conversation. Respect that."

"I wasn't talking about the Lodge," Triss said.

"There are other ways," Margarita put in gently. "Those that are open solely to you - the place where you could change a lot for many people. Your legacy. Let Emhyr denounce his reign and take over after him. That is how you can save all of us and all of those you wish to save. This is how you stop running and take your power in all senses of the word."

Ciri brought her hands to her face in frustration. "Emhyr is not stepping down as Emperor. He merely wishes to use me to placate the people he has thoroughly wounded and angered. You are both fools if you think he has any intention of giving up his power."

"You are your grandmother's girl, Ciri, a queen she wanted to make out of you," Triss said. "You can take that power, and no one will stop you. He has no power over you or your decisions. If it were Calanthe with your gift, she would be the sole ruler. Not many might have liked her reign, but no one would ever dare step near Cintra with weapons bared.

"And you, my dear Ciri, you are wonderful. You underestimate yourself greatly, but you could be the best ruler this world has known for ages. Under your hand, the races would finally come together as allies, the peace could come for all. Finally. Do you believe this world hasn't bled enough?"

"I believe blood does not make me qualified to rule," Ciri said as calmly as she could muster, but she was still seething. "And certainly not qualified to make decisions on behalf of other people. You think peace and blissful harmony will come that easy? There will always be bloodshed. Always be cruel and ignorant and power-hungry people who will destroy everything in their way. I cannot change that. And it is unfair of you to put that responsibility on me. I am no one's savior. You've got the wrong girl."

Her refilled mug left untouched, Ciri brushed past Triss and up the stairs, her hands trembling and blood pounding in her ears.


	41. Chapter 41

Radovid sent some troops ahead while he picked another route for his own procession. By the time the King of Redania accompanied by the witchers and a significant unit of soldiers and Witch Hunters arrived to the bridge, there were already spiked fences in place and Redanian soldiers armed with crossbows in positions behind them.

Kain thought it was ridiculous to believe any of these could protect them from an enraged enchantress.

"Where is that house?" Radovid asked.

"The last door on the other side of the bridge," Geralt repeated.

"Jacob! Godrid! Jouke! Take a few men and secure the bridge - make sure there are no civilians to interfere and no witnesses." Radovid turned to the witchers and the men surrounding them. "Ekbert, Caspar, you and your units secure the rear and make sure no one slips out. Kill the Witchers."

"That's how you thank people for their service?" Geralt asked.

"It's how I punish those who irritate me," Radovid played back. "You know too much, you impede me too often, you're arrogant, and you've involved another witcher. You're an inconvenience to me, Geralt of Rivia. I've killed men for less." He turned to the unit commanders, "Follow me. And you," he gestured indicating the group surrounding the witchers, "take care of it somewhere quiet. Make it quick."

He went ahead leading his group of soldiers and Witch Hunters through the tall arch onto the bridge.

The Chief of Radovid's guard was approaching with a nasty sneer, sliding a thumb along the blade of his sword. "Any last words?"

Kain flicked his wrist, and the Chief's arm twisted and the sword fell out, clattering against the pavement; it happened so quickly he uttered a grunt instead of a scream. His eyes widened as he stared at his arm as if it betrayed him. Next moment he flew backwards from Geralt's Aard and hit the wall forcefully. His eyes rolled and he slid down.

The soldiers who saw that barely had any time to digest what was happening before the screams "Free the Witcher! Death to Radovid!" sounded and the guards that had dashed to the witchers with their weapons drawn fell down with bolts in their necks. Geralt glimpsed Roche's face in one of the figures running out of a side street, but then Kain pushed the Witcher's sword against his chest, and Geralt joined in the skirmish. More Blue Stripes poured onto the main street, and swords clashed and clattered, people screamed in rage and pain alike.

The man who had been carrying the witchers' swords joined the Chief at the wall, knocked out. Kain dexterously slipped the sword belt onto his shoulder and threw a hand toward the fences with the barricades of sand sacks at them. Flames roared up, leaping all over the sacks and enveloping the wooden spikes so quickly people dashed every which way. It brought the needed disarray into the Redanian forces, and Blue Stripes had no difficulty gaining an upper hand.

"Radovid," Geralt said, grasping Kain's shoulder.

They ran for the bridge with Roche right behind them, skirting around the burning fences and fighting people. More of guards and Witch Hunters put themselves in their way, and more blood spilt and flowed between the pebbles of the pavement. They ran and slashed and pushed and stabbed and ran forward. When they reached the end of the bridge, the huge grid of the gate was lowered, and Radovid was like a trapped rat. His face held no more traces of disdain and pride he had demonstrated earlier. He was like a drowning man, desperate to grasp onto a straw. When he glimpsed Geralt, he dashed sideways and rapped his fists on the door.

"Open up! In the name of the King! I demand you open right now!"

The door opened inward, making him nearly lose his balance. Instead of dashing in, he staggered back from the doorway, his mouth agape, fear oozing from the widened eyes. After him, strolled out Philippa. She was smiling serenely.

"You needed merely to ask," she murmured.

"No," whispered Radovid staring at her like a rabbit at the teeth of a snarling bear. "No… no… no…"

"Trosglwyddo," Philippa said, her hand coming forth slowly, her fingers closing like talons over the air.

Radovid gave a loud howl and clutched his face, staggering around like a frightened deer, bumping into the crates and walls and barrels stocked in front of a store behind him. Philippa made a few quick gestured, and the King was thrown against the gate, pinned there with her power like a bug. His eyes were squeezed shut, blood trickled down his cheeks from under the inflamed eyelids. His screams turned incoherent, inhuman. He was jerking like a fly on a spider web but couldn't break free. Philippa stalled her pace in front of him, with her back to the witchers.

"What the hell…" Roche whispered, staring in amazement. No one responded.

She was standing a bit hunched, her head lowered slightly as if she was scrutinizing the King's shivering boots. Radovid's screams got to their peak and began to lose the force, his throat hoarse. His face was a grotesque bloodied mask of suffering, his mouth downturned and gaping like a symbol of theatric drama and tragedy.

Philippa slowly raised a hand and pulled the blindfold off her face. It hung on her fingers as she lowered her arm, then fell down like a dry leaf. She raised her head to Radovid's face level, and Kain knew she was smiling.

"I've been waiting for this moment for long enough," she said. A dagger materialized in her grip and she shoved the blade in the King's gut, wrenching it savagely. Radovid screamed, squealed and howled. Then he hung limply like a broken doll.

In a flash of orange, Philippa was no more. A huge own flapped her wings soaring higher, and disappeared over the rooftops.

Radovid's body was left hanging on the gate as he was.

His bloody eye sockets were empty.

"How the fuck? Why?!" Roche turned to the witchers, his arms spreading in mute inquiry.

"Eavesdropped on us with magic," Geralt said, sheathing his sword. "Decided to take matters in her own hands and executed her revenge."

Roche's face creased in anger, "And you didn't think it worth mentioning earlier?"

"Lads, this is not the time," Ves said, placing herself between the two. "Radovid is dead, and it matters not by whose hand. We have to go. Now. This place will be crawling with Redanians in minutes."

"Right," Roche said, casting a quick glare at Geralt. "We shall go."

* * *

Ciri stormed into her room and slammed the door behind her, feeling aggrieved now more than ever that she could not leave the inn and seek refuge in the forest. If she had not promised Geralt she'd stay, she probably would have left already. There had been no signs of any attacks or threats.

She opened her window and leaned out a little to she could watch the street below. From what she could see there was no panic, nor violence, though somewhere in the distance there was quite a bit of smoke rising. She couldn't tell whether or not that had any significance to Radovid's attempted assassination. She was not even sure if she wished it was.

Ciri closed her eyes once her brow furrowed with concern and with her magic she tried to reach out. To Kain. It was easier with him than Geralt whose magic was so different from her own. She sought out the half-elf's mind, trying to connect, trying to get any hints or clues he was all right.

* * *

"Are you gratified?" Yennefer asked, standing slowly, moving toward the counter to retrieve the drink that Ciri had abandoned.

"What do you mean?"

"Stop trying to pretend like you don't know what you just did, Triss."

"What's that? Try to talk to her like a grownup? As if she has responsibilities?"

"She doesn't," Yennefer added. "At present all she has to do is worry about herself, about surviving The Wild Hunt."

"I know that," Triss amended, looking disconcerted.

"I don't think you do if you believe that trying to have a heart to heart with her about a subject that had already hurt her in the past is what's best."

"It's not that—" Triss beseeched.

"I don't care for your attempts at clarifying," Yennefer interjected. "Stop hurting my girl."

Yennefer didn't wait on her next rebuttal and started for the stairs. She entered Ciri's room quietly, gaze fixed to her back as she moved toward the mattress to sit, letting Ciri have a second's quiet time to unwind and cool down. It also wasn't hard to tell that she was using magic, that her energy had increased and become more erratic since she'd been downstairs.

Ciri's eyes opened once she sensed Yennefer's presence. She watched her cautiously before speaking.

"Do you agree with Triss? Am I selfish?"

"No," Yennefer said. There was no hesitation in her tone. "I believe you're tired, scared of what the future might hold and if we'll die in two days. You shouldn't have to think further than that or put pressure on yourself. All you have to do is live."

"I wish everyone else would see it like that," Ciri said, peering out the window again.

"Not everyone loves you the same way that I do," Yennefer added. "Perhaps better. They want you to think of a future. One where you don't have to run anymore."

"They should have been back by now, right? Geralt and Kain. How long does it take to kill a king?"

Yennefer eased off the mattress and moved to set the mug of mead on the windowsill in front of her. "Reorganizing our futures take time. But if they've done it right or even successfully, they'll be back by morning or even middle of the night. Worried?"

"Always. Aren't you?"

* * *

Thaler was waiting in the empty yard of the theater. He raised his bald head when Geralt and the other three jogged in and closed the fence door behind them.

"Is it done?"

"It is," Roche confirmed. "Though not everything went according to plan."

"That's not important," Geralt said. "Radovid's dead."

"That's all that matters," Ves said opening the bottle she picked up from the small table in front of Thaler. "To free Temeria!" She drank and passed the bottle to Roche.

"To Temeria!" he saluted and drank.

"To bloody Temeria," agreed Thaler.

Geralt folded his arms. "Isn't it a bit early to celebrate? Radovid's death doesn't mean free Temeria."

"It ploughin does, though," Thaler argued. "Or sort of. Tomorrow the commander of the Army Group 'Center' will sign a treaty in Emhyr's name. We have agreed on its contents and conditions with Dijkstra."

Geralt observed him with a scowl. "You haven't told me everything."

"Well, sure, we know how allergic you are to politics, so we emphasized the parts you cared about - mages and whatnot." Thaler drank and passed the bottle to Roche. "Nilfgaard keeps Aedirn and Lyria, but in exchange for Radovid's head and the stop of guerilla activities Emhyr shall let us keep Temeria as a sovereign state of Nilfgaard."

"Nilfgaard's sovereign," Roche scoffed.

"With our own inner rule," Thaler said. "Our own justice and law system. Silver Lilies shall bloom under the Golden Sun."

"At what price?"

Everybody turned to look at the bulky, huge figure appearing from the shadows in the depth of the scene with its curtains.

"The sovereignty of one small state - and Emhyr gets the whole North handed over on sliver platter." Dijkstra spat off the edge of the scene. "Forget it. There will be no deal. Redania shall raise its head under my enlightened rule and we will never stop fighting Nilfgaard."

"That's not what we ploughin agreed!" Thaler yelled.

"What the hell, Dijkstra?" Roche demanded reaching for his sword.

Before he drew it, they were surrounded. The shadows came alive and spat out Redanian soldiers armed with crossbows.

"What are you doing, Dijkstra?" Geralt said, stepping forward. "Stop this."

"Walk away, Geralt," Sigi suggested. "Take your younger twin and walk away while you still can."

"You know I can't do that," the Witcher said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, Geralt," Dijkstra shook his head slowly, but on his lips there was an ironic smile. "The same ill judgement. What about you?" He looked at Kain. "Talk some sense into your friend."

Kain slowly shook his head, "It won't be right. Not for the majority here."

"I think you need to look again, Cath," Sigi Reuven suggested, scowling. "Count and see where the majority lies."

Kain didn't try to count - he already had. He stepped forward from their closely bunched up group and threw his hands sideways, sending waves of power like invisible spreading wings of a giant bird. The soldiers flew back losing their balance and some their crossbows.

Roche, Ves and Geralt didn't stand waiting; they dashed for the fallen soldiers with their swords, Roche and Ves screamed about Temeria, and Geralt was silent like a white ghost. Thaler backed away to the fence gaping around, his hand pulling his dagger from the sheath on his belt.

Kain's eyes never fell off Dijkstra. The spy's astonishment was short-lived. He produced his sword but had no time to use it. Another impulse from Kain's thrown hand blew him off his feet and into the scene's decorations. Before he could get up, the half-blood stood over him, and Dijkstra found with growing fear that he couldn't breathe. He stabbed his sword futilely toward the younger Witcher, but missed. His huge free hand was ripping at the collars of his clothes in useless attempts to catch a breath.

The metal cluttered and clashed behind them as if in another world, and Dijkstra's vision began to blur and darken, his fingers weakened on his throat and around the handle of his sword - it rolled away from his limp hand when his eyes rolled up and his consciousness left him.

* * *

Yennefer smiled subtly. "I have to trust that they're going to be fine, that they can handle themselves, or I'd be out there searching to make sure."

"If they are not back before dark falls, I will go fetch them," Ciri said before sipping her mead.

"As you wish," Yennefer added gently. She had no intention of stopping her. Ciri was old enough to make her own choices and had looked after herself long enough. The sorceress knew she'd be fine. "In the meantime—enjoy your mead."

"I probably should not drink it all if I may have to go on a rescue mission later."

"Probably." Yennefer gestured for her to do so anyway. "It won't come to that."

Ciri considered, then drank. "I once fought in an arena against soldiers and ruffians. While on fisstech. And I managed that fine. I suppose a little mead won't hurt."

"You can handle it," Yennefer mused. She ambled back over to the mattress, sat down and stretched out.

* * *

Kain released the hold. Behind him, the fight was over. Geralt was coming up wiping his sword on some rag.

"We need your Axii," Kain said. "To win time."

"He probably ordered the signing of treaty to be sabotaged," Thaler said from the yard. "We have to make sure nothing stops it."

"We'll take care of it," Roche said and nodded at Geralt and Kain. "Thank you. He'd murder us if you left."

"Thank you," Ves said, and followed Roche for the fence gate leading to the back streets. There was less noise coming from there. They snuck away quietly.

Thaler stayed, however. He was peering at the scene where Dijkstra lay. "Is he dead?"

"No," Geralt said, looking uncertain. He didn't know what outcome could be deemed best in that situation. He was no damned politician.

"We don't know the consequences of his death," Kain said quietly. "We don't know what Philippa will do. We don't know what he conspired with Redanians. He's their head now. If we kill him, what will we get? A headless Redania is not a better beast than Radovid."

"Mm." Geralt grimaced and gave a scoff. "Fine. What do we do?"

"Axii," Kain repeated and went to get the bottle of wine still sitting on the table. The scuffle hadn't thrown it off. He cut his finger with the dagger and let the blood drip into the bottle's neck. He sloshed the remaining wine and returned to Geralt; his finger skinned over as he did.

Kain knelt before Dijkstra, setting the bottle down next to him and slapped the spy's jowls. When Sigi began to stir, Geralt hit him with Axii, and the eyes Sigi opened were foggy and unfocused. They made him drink the wine, then Kain leaned in to his ear, closing his eyes to focus his magic.

"Now, listen carefully, Sigismund..."

Sigi listened very carefully.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Ciri asked, watching her. "You look tired."

"A lot on my mind," Yen offered, gifting her a small smile. "Nothing to worry about."

"Things not connected to The Hunt?"

"Things not connected."

"About Geralt?" she asked gently.

"Lately is there anything else that I'm destined to think about?"

"There was a time you might not have." She smiled a little. "Things have changed, hm?"

"A lot. It's been that way since the Djinn."

"Losing something makes us appreciate it more at times. But you haven't truly lost him. It's not as though he no longer wants you."

"So I should be happy with sex without love?"

"That is not what I meant. I am saying there is still a connection there, one that can be developed into something more if his memories do not return."

"Then you're frightfully more positive than I am."

"I believe you were in love." Ciri shrugged. "And I think something like that does not just go away."

"Apparently it does. It doesn't appear to have been any more than a figment. A wish."

"That is not true. It is just buried and struggling to find its way back. He loves you. He just doesn't remember."

"He remembers you. He remembers Triss. It's not the same as it was before. As what was dealt with before. It's much different."

"So you are giving up?" Ciri asked, her brow furrowed.

* * *

Kain staggered and stopped, clasping at a wall to keep himself standing, a couple of streets away from _Rosemary and Thyme_.

"You all right?" Geralt regarded him with concern, casting a quick glance around.

The town criers had dispersed, but the crowds stayed, panicked and uncertain. Some thought the Hunt had arrived and ran in fear screaming for their loved ones, parents ushering children toward the gates; some knew about the King and decided it was the right time for plunder and skirmishes. There was a lot of those latter ones.

"My head's splitting," Kain uttered, his eyes shut, the fingers of his free hand pressing into his temple. "That magic… I'm good, Geralt, but this… It's like my brain is scrambled like breakfast eggs…"

"We have to go," Geralt urged, pulling him from the wall and coaxing to walk on. Kain was making giant efforts to not be sick. "It's another street and we're there. Yennefer can heal you."

"No! No… Not her… Not anyone."

"We'll see."

"Oh, thank the gods!" Dandelion exclaimed when Geralt practically dragged Kain in and toward the bar counter. Dandelion's joy slipped off his face replaced with a deep scowl of worry as he watched Geralt help Kain to a chair at one of the empty tables. "What happened?"

"Nothing, it's fine," Geralt said, scrutinizing Kain who was trying to breathe deeper to not throw up. "Is it? Fine? Dandelion, bring water."

"Sure, sure." Dandelion hurried for the bar and snatched the pitcher.

"I shall help."

They looked at the stairs: Philippa was descending.

"Oh fucking hell and birds of feathers," Dandelion muttered, staring, "where is her… what… the eyes…"

"Yes, I have things to be grateful for today, it seems," Philippa said, strolling toward them. "I shall repay the favor."

"No, thank you," Kain managed, wincing as he looked at her. "I'll make do."

"No need," Philippa smiled sweetly, her eyes gleamed cunningly.

"He said no need," Geralt put in, stepping forth to put himself between her and his brother, looking menacingly.

"You have another king to deal with," Philippa said. "No time for slack and rest. Not yet."

"I said—" Geralt started, but there was a thud behind him. He turned and observed Dandelion senseless on the floor. "Dandelion? What is with you?"

Dandelion moaned softly but couldn't quite come to. Geralt shook him by the chin, tapped his cheeks with his palm, but it hardly helped.

Philippa held out a cup of water to Kain who stared at her through the squint of pain. She was smiling. "I mean no harm to you, Witcher," she mouthed. Her lips barely moved, nor did they need to because her voice rang in his head.

Dismayed, he realized his defenses were down. He accepted the cup and drank carefully. "I'll be fine," he murmured, setting the cup down.

"When?" she perked an eyebrow, then made herself smile again scrutinizing him.

She knows I can't resist much, Kain thought, and still tried to. It made his headache worse, so bad he felt his eyes would start to bleed.

"That's not a druid magic you used," she purred, her smile widening. She studied him with fascination. "A bold move. I like it. Not that I'd care if he died or not… But…" she clucked her tongue, "I suppose it pleases me you thought of my feelings. So sweet." Her finger stroked along Kain's hand, which he pulled away.

Geralt yanked Dandelion from the floor to sit on a bench; the poet seemed to be suffering from vertigo. "Leave him be, I warn you, Philippa," Geralt snarled over his shoulder, glaring.

The enchantress paid no mind, her eyes boring into Kain's with the same persistence.

"Dammit," Geralt grumbled, glancing between her and Dandelion. "Get a grip," he said to the latter, shaking him subtly on the shoulders. "What's gotten into you?"

"No… Nothing… I… dunno…" Dandelion rubbed his eyes, rocking a little where he sat as if the world around him kept spinning.

"Philippa, stop this right now," Geralt growled, turning to her with a threat in his eyes.

"I'm doing nothing," she waved a dismissive hand; Dandelion shook his head as if to wake up. "It's my eyes. All that power is oozing from them. No woman can or should restrain her charms, Geralt. Pity I have to explain such basic things to a womanizer like you."

"Leave them both now."

"Aw, but I haven't done a thing." She kept looking at Kain. "Shame your stubbornness runs in the family. But have it your way – I have never pushed my assistance where it wasn't wanted. Go ahead and have half an hour, and then take your brother and head for the palace. I want Fringilla with us tonight. The last piece we all – I repeat, we ALL – need." Smiling, she held out a hand palm-up to Kain, "It's here if you change your mind."

Her eyes were hypnotizing, and Kain looked down at her palm instead, taking a deep breath. The headache was sickening.

* * *

Something stirred deep inside Ciri, and it took her a moment to realize what it was.

"They're back!"

She darted for the door and came down the stairs just in time to see Philippa's hand extended towards a very sick-looking Kain, while Geralt was crouching over a clearly unwell Dandelion. What had she done to them?

In a flash of green, Ciri was upon the sorceress in a moment, pushing her back against the nearest wall with her dimeritium bracelet pressed to the sorceress' throat. Her eyes, which had not always been Philippa's eyes, Ciri realized, stared at the ashen-haired girl with evident surprise.

"Well, well, the kitten's learned how to use her claws," Philippa mused, a somewhat satisfied expression claiming her face despite the discomfort of the dimeritium. "I am so glad."

It was not the reaction Ciri expected. But then again, Philippa had always been maddeningly hard to read. At least to Ciri.

"What did she do?" Ciri asked, never taking her gaze or hands off the sorceress, though her question was directed at the men behind her.

"I did absolutely nothing but try to help," Philippa purred, narrowing her eyes at Ciri briefly, then looking over her shoulder to Kain.

"Ciri," Kain said, wincing. "Don't."

"I'm… um… I… I'm fine…" Dandelion muttered, reaching for the cup of water Geralt held for him. "Just… I didn't sleep… a bit faint… Hard day. Hard century." He drank eagerly.

"You did this to distract me," Geralt pointed at Philippa, glowering.

Philippa laughed and pushed Ciri away, detaching from the wall to stroll between the tables nonchalantly toward the center of the room. "You put way too much intentions on my behalf, Witcher. I did nothing but offer my aid for your helping me. He's unwell, and you have to go… in twenty minutes." She tipped her head sideways, observing Kain. "You sure?"

"I'll manage," he said quietly, bringing the pitcher to his lips for another gulp of water.

Philippa shrugged and went for the stairs. "You know where to find me. May forgo knocking."

Ciri's blood was boiling but she did not pursue Philippa up the stairs. She was much more concerned with Kain and Dandelion.

She crouched before the half-elf, fury temporarily making way for fear. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Kain propped his elbows on the table and put his forehead in his hands, closing his eyes. "Headache."

"I'm fine," Dandelion said meekly and cast a frightened glance at the stairs where Philippa disappeared. "What happened?"

"She cast something on you and you fainted," Geralt said, taking a gander at Kain. "So she could... distract me."

"She tried to dig around in my head, is all," Kain said quietly.

"Shit," Geralt winced with disdain. "Picked the right moment, too. You all right? Need anything?"

"A forest," muttered Kain. "Though it might not help much."

Geralt frowned, "Why?"

"Dijkstra. The spell would hold for a day or so, and there's a sort of a... connection. It drains."

"Shit," Geralt repeated grimly.

"What spell?" Ciri asked, eyeing Geralt because Kain looked close to passing out. "What do you need? Fealinn?" She was the only capable healer Ciri could think of that Kain might accept.

"He, um... did a bit of a mind-controlling thing on Dijkstra," Geralt ran a hand through his hair.

"We need him docile until tomorrow," Kain said. "It can't be healed. I'll have to make do."

"Why until tomorrow?" Ciri asked, standing, and more confused than ever. "What happens tomorrow? And what happened with Radovid?"

"Yeah, I'm with Ciri here," Dandelion said, peering from one to another, puzzled. "What happened?"

Geralt sat down and told them in short about the bridge, Radovid's death and Dijkstra's failed plan to gain more power than anyone was ready to give.

"Owh, what a horse's arse!" Dandelion snorted. "It's just never enough for him."

"Or Philippa," Geralt murmured, glancing at Kain. "They're made for each other."

Ciri scowled. Their story was dramatic and quite horrifying. It explained why Philippa had not been part of Triss and Margarita's ambush earlier. Had she even known?

"Think we can trust her? Think she will turn on us like Djikstra did?"

"We cannot trust her about everything," Geralt said. "Only about what covers her interests. She wishes for her place of power to be back, just like Sigi."

"Something she can only get through someone's throne," Kain added quietly and drank more water.

Ciri's brows rose briefly in acknowledgement. "Must be why she still has her underlings trying to change my mind about Emhyr.

"What did she mean by you having to go in twenty minutes?"

Geralt grunted in annoyance. "She wants Fringilla back. Tonight."

"A pair of eyes wasn't enough for today?" Ciri snorted. "Do you think we are making a mistake in reuniting them? Are we making our potential enemies stronger?"

Geralt sighed. "It's about the city now. We need all magic we can get. We have to fight so that there are minimal casualties."

"Bollocks," Dandelion scoffed. "There are bloody four of them! Any more and this place will bust with magic. Hardly to make us happy or safe, either."

"We do need them all, and not just for this fight alone," Kain raised his head and looked at them. "This fight won't be the final one."

Sometimes Ciri didn't think it would ever end. "We should get Avallac'h back here as well," she said. "We might need him."

What if she lost control again and Avallac'h wasn't there to stop her this time?

"Perhaps we don't," Geralt mused. "This can wait. But Vizima won't. I should probably go alone."

"You think he'll hand her over?" Dandelion asked. "After he denied you already?"

"Stealing her won't do us good, so it's the only hope," the Witcher shrugged. "I have to convince him."

Kain took a deep breath, getting up. "Let's go, then. I'll be fine. I have to get used to it."

"You can barely stand," Ciri pointed out when Kain rose, looking unsteady. But she wasn't comfortable letting Geralt go alone either. "I'll come."

"Hmm." Geralt regarded Ciri. "You sure?"

She nodded. "Kain needs rest. Maybe even the forest. And I don't want you to go alone. If anything goes wrong, I can get us out."

"Rest won't help, I'm afraid," Kain said rubbing his forehead. "I'll have to live with it until it ends. Ciri, take him to that spot where you were waiting for us back then not far from the city. You can ride from there.

He might have mages at the palace, don't make it easier on them to scan your power for weaknesses or trap you. Don't go directly to the palace via magic, understand?"

"Ah, gods," Dandelion sighed. "Another bout of waiting and worrying. What am I going to tell Yennefer when she asks? She's going to turn me into a garden slug. Geralt!" He threw his hands up and cast a both accusing and pleading look at the Witcher. "A garden slug that can't SING! Ever!"

Ciri couldn't help but smile. "I need to fetch my sword, so I will tell her," she assured Dandelion. "Just keep your lute out of sight and you will be fine. I will be right back."

She darted up the stairs and for her room, closing the door behind her.

"Geralt and I will go see the Emperor now. Philippa wants Fringilla with her tonight."

She paused once her sword was fastened to her back, meeting Yennefer's gaze.

"Kain is... unwell. And Philippa has been trying to take advantage of that. Please try to keep the sorceresses away from him while we are gone. It is important."

"You have my word," Yennefer added. She meant it, too. There was no point trying to argue the fact that she'd only imagined Ciri would see her blood relation after The Wild Hunt had been tended to. That had been the deal. Why the change in heart? Because Philippa was making demands?

Yennefer rose up off the mattress and made a start for the door, leaving Ciri to tend to whatever she needed for a time.

"Don't get into another unfathomable trouble," Dandelion said. "I really, really don't want to be a slug, Geralt."

"Don't worry," Geralt patted the poet on the back and looked at Kain. "You can't remain like that until tomorrow. Screw Dijkstra and the spell."

"Done is done," Kain said, lowering onto the bench to sit again. "It's all right, I'll find a way to bear it better. Just get Fringilla and come back in one piece."

"I will."

"Agreed," Yennefer mused once she'd reached the interior and picked up on the conversation taking place. "Don't give Emhyr room to cage you again. Eyes open. Wide."

"He won't benefit from caging me, and he knows it," Geralt reasoned, looking up at her while she came down the stairs. "We'll be fine."

"I know," Yennefer retorted.

But as Ciri said, it didn't mean she wouldn't worry anyway. She no longer trusted Emhyr or that he wouldn't go to extreme lengths to manipulate Ciri. Their goals were not the same.

The streets were noisy outside. Dandelion got up and locked the doors just in case.

"I hope those witches are doing their work," he muttered. "How long do you think it will last?"

Geralt shrugged, "Depends on when Dijkstra seizes the power. Given our spell, he might be having certain difficulty concentrating."

"I shall take care of that," Philippa said from the stairs. No one noticed how she came down there again. "I will direct his focus where it has to go and relieve Kain of some pain of doing it. All you have to do is make him listen to me." She winked at Kain, then raised her arms and turned into an owl.

Dandelion opened the window and she flew out past him. He grimaced as if she were a bat.

Once Ciri had gathered her things, she returned back downstairs. Just in time to see an owl fly out the window. Philippa.

Now that her anger had waned ever so slightly, she felt a slight concern from having confronted the woman so violently before. Some sort of residual fear for Philippa that still lingered from their earlier meetings.

She pushed that aside and looked to Geralt. "Ready?"

She assumed he was, and moved over to Kain, gently took his face in her hands and leaned in to kiss him. Short and sweet. "Be safe," she whispered, the phrase she always uttered when parting with him and that held a lot more emotion than concern of safety.

A furtive smile swept over Yennefer's mouth while watching Ciri and Kain. It died out when her gaze touched Geralt. It was almost too much seeing him after that night.

She folded her arms as if to shut herself off and resume the cold exterior.

"Are you sure you can take us both with horses?" Geralt asked, opening the door carefully to peek outside and make sure they could sneak out to the stables.

"Entirely certain," Ciri said, detaching from Kain and stepping towards the door behind Geralt. "I have done it before. Though it is easier if you hold my hand."

"Does Roach hold your hand, as well?" Geralt sneered and followed Ciri out.

"I assumed you'd be sitting on her," Ciri retorted as they went for the stable. "I can transport us all either way, but I do feel safer when I am touching those I am taking with me. Less likely to accidentally drop you into a volcano somewhere, you know."

She was teasing. Mostly.

Dandelion locked the door behind them and turned to cast a forlorn look between Yennefer and Kain. "I shall get some shuteye before I drop where I stand." With that, he went for the stairs.

"Do you need any help?" Yennefer asked, assessing Kain.

"No, thank you." He got up and gestured for the stairs. "I better follow the poet's example and try to rest."

She nodded, and he went away. She hugged herself, rubbing her shoulders subtly as if from chill.

Alone again, then.

* * *

In the stable, she got Kelpie ready and when Geralt had done the same with Roach, she asked: "Should we travel from here? Or shall we leave the city first?"

"Under the circumstances, it's best to do it from here." Geralt couldn't help a wince recollecting her comment about the volcano. He caught her arm before she leapt onto her horse. "If you're uncertain of your power or anything, we can go without the horses. I... wouldn't want any of us all to end up in a volcano."

She laughed, genuinely delighted. "Geralt, I was jesting. I would never travel with you this way if I believed even for a second it could bring you harm. Or Roach."

Ciri reached up to affectionately tug on a lock of Geralt's hair. "Trust me. I've got this."

She released him and turned to climb onto Kelpie's back, her head kept low so to not collide with the ceiling.

"Ready?" she asked, holding her hand out to Geralt. The moment he took it, they were off.

Even though it was different from portals, his stomach still flipped and something in his head shifted like a change of pressure.

Roach was neighing and throwing her head. Geralt pulled the reins, ruling her down. He looked ahead at the city visible a mile away down the road. The sun was beginning to descend.

They exchanged glances and rode for the road.

"Are you ready for this?" Geralt asked, regarding Ciri.

"There's not really much I can do to prepare. Doubt I will ever be ready to meet that man. But I am willing and determined, so that will have to do," she said, her gaze on the castle.

The Witcher couldn't give her any advice. Emhyr was too different from Duni he remembered. He liked Pavetta and couldn't forgive him her demise. There was no right way to approach it, and Geralt aimed for what he always tried so hard to reach with politics - neutrality.

* * *

Yennefer checked to make sure that Dandelion wasn't seriously injured since he'd got caught in the wake of whatever plans Philippa had. He'd assured Yennefer he was fine but she'd looked him over anyway. Philippa was cunning, more so than he could have imagined and she clearly had plans. Philippa had showed face and Yennefer wasn't sure she could trust her to follow through now that she'd got what she wanted.

Twice.

Kain had headed upstairs some time ago but hadn't looked very good, either.

Once Yennefer was sure all that remained of Dandelion's injuries was his dramatics, she started upstairs, scarcely knocking when she entered his room.

Kain looked up at her from his chair at the fireplace. The orange glow illuminated a side of his face.

"Something happened?"

Yennefer shook her head and moved to join him in front of the fireplace. "I came to check on you. Ciri said Philippa tried to do something to you."

"Probing my mind - the most common and trite thing for your kind. Your favorite tool. Can't blame her for being predictable in some things no mage would pass on."

"It's useful," Yennefer disagreed. "People are prone to lying. They can't lie to themselves though. But that's not all, is it? You're exuding magic." Not directly at her, but outward and his body was taking significant strain.

Kain shrugged and looked at the fire. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"What's that?" Yennefer asked, peering into his eyes, noting that although they were different from Geralt's, there was also a similarity that was unmistakable.

"He wanted to keep fighting, to forgo the treaty and unite the North under his own rule. We could kill him. But we opted for redirecting his mind. I bound the effect with my blood. It will work until it's fully out of his system. No one can help with that, nor should."

"That'll put a strain on your body being linked to someone that long. You don't look like you're handling it very well. You planning to kill yourself?"

Kain smirked. "You don't know me. I tend to not overestimate my powers. That's why I'm still alive."

"You're right, I don't know you, I only know of you, of what you did for me and what Ciri told me. Why don't we remedy that? Tell me about yourself."

"It's not in my habits to tell anyone about myself." He shot her a brief but shrewd look. "Nor is it in yours to let anyone in. Not even those you claim to feel for."

"Let's pretend that for a minute neither of us is that easy to read. That we're two different people. One that doesn't mind sharing, and another who'll open enough to reciprocate."

Yennefer sat forward.

"Do you love my daughter, Kain?"

He heaved a long sigh, staring into the fire. A small smile of helpless irony touched his mouth for a brief moment. "Why do you want to know that? You're not her."

"Because I want to know how badly you're going to break her heart."

"That is exactly what I don't want to do. Love, however, always hurts. I'd like to spare her that."

"You'd like to spare her the hurt of being in love? As opposed to the hurt of being or feeling rejected?"

He turned to consider her. "You suggest I tell her I love her to make her feel better?"

"No. What I said was, if you love her, if there is even a stitch of anything between the two of you — tell her. Don't wait, don't waste time pretending that you feel nothing or trying to protect her. She doesn't need that. She knows what she wants, she knows what she wants to do."

Kain studied her for a bit. "I don't suppose Geralt ever waited with being honest with you. Did it change anything? Did you never leave him after that? Did you never leave him wondering whether you feel anything or not? Did any declarations change anything for better at all?"

"When it came to saying 'I love you' out loud, yeah, he did. But Geralt said in in his head multiple times over—I knew—he was also never afraid of showing me. Physically, emotionally. He gave me more than I could have imagined or even knew how to handle at times. Love isn't easy, it isn't something we can even speculate over or treat as if it were a spell that you can just throw together. You have to feel it, you have to understand it and, more importantly, you have to give it a chance. I let fear and the past ruin that for me. It doesn't mean that the two of you have to go through the same thing. Learn from us, don't be us."

He shrugged, "I respect your wish for her to be happy, but it doesn't mean Ciri or I can or even want to use your example. If you finally managed to accept your feeling, it doesn't enable you to teach others how it's done."

"Actually, it does. That's why it's called knowledge, the same way if I was to teach you or her about magic. It's all the same value. Whether or not you accept it is another matter entirely, I'm sure you're smart enough to know that."

Yennefer sat back in her chair, observing him with considerate interest.

"Are you attracted to her?"

He peered at her with ironic disbelief. "Why the interrogation? It's solely between her and me."

"The fact is that I don't know you. Your intentions. She already has a lot of herself rested on you and I'd like to know why, especially after what I witnessed last night. You know she'll be hurt when she finds out."

It took a moment to connect the two dots and understand what she was referring to. "I never lied to her," he reasoned. "Or made any promises to inspire any expectations in her. So no, I cannot tell you why she believes she has feelings for me. I tried to explain it with loneliness, some similarities she sees, or even just infatuation with a new face that seems to be of the same age, but she denies my reasoning. If you want to know why, you'll have to ask her."

"You've a tendency of explaining a lot away with motive, don't you?" He'd done it to her twice already. "You ever just think that it has nothing to do with loneliness and everything to do with the fact that you're attractive?"

"Do you fall in love with everyone you find attractive? Because it's not what you can love - it's what you like. She doesn't know me well enough to love."

"She knows that you're willing to help her, that you've protected both her and her family, and that she can count on you. Sometimes that's enough."

Kain heaved another weary sigh and averted his eyes to the fire.

Despite his resistance, Yennefer's gaze lingered on his face.

"If you want to talk about love and its reasons, you should talk to her," he said eventually. "I've got nothing to say."

"Not even about desire?"

He frowned but didn't turn to her. "What about it?"

"If you don't love her, do you at least desire her?"

He turned to regard her with disbelief. "_At least_? Are you seriously putting these two on the same line?"

"Should I have used another term?" Yennefer asked, arching a brow inquisitively, prodding him to clarify. She'd never been shamed by the idea of sex or the fact that it was just that. Most times that was all it had ever been to her. _Most _times…

"Love and desire are not the same, unless one comes from another. Ciri deserves someone who desires her out of love, not out of a selfish need for pleasure."

Yennefer's smile softened. She agreed.

"How are you feeling? You're beginning to sweat and you're looking even paler."

"I'm fine," he repeated and thought about Griffin longingly, looking away from her to the fireplace.

"Where is he?" Yennefer asked. "I can take you to him."

He shot a glare her way, "Don't you dig around in my head. I'm not Geralt, I can retaliate."

"It's a habit," Yennefer excused although she felt little in the way of an apology or his glare. "You didn't answer my question."

"I don't need your help. I can take care of myself. And habit is a weak excuse. Next time there will be consequences."

"I'm petrified," Yennefer retorted drolly, pressing on before he could think to roll his eyes or anything else that likened to his pride. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Kain, I'm trying to give the comfort you long for. You earned it."

"You're invading people's heads because you've never known trust and true connection. You don't know what giving comfort means - you've never done that, you rather sought it in Geralt and others who actually know how to love. I don't get comforted by having my mind probed. Thus I shall pass on your offer."

He got up from the chair, his eyes closing for a moment to let dizziness pass, then he walked out of the room and hurried to get outside.

Yennefer watched Kain stagger to his feet and sway, as if he couldn't stand to be in her presence a moment longer and seemed unconcerned with the discomfort he was creating for himself. She wasn't unaccustomed to that sentimentality. What she found most strange was that Kain was talking as if he knew her. Maybe he'd been poking around in her head and she'd been unaware?

She scarcely gave him time to make his escape before she was on her feet and following him.

* * *

The streets were still crowded outside - people were eager to be around others to discuss their rapid changes in life.

It was perfect, and Kain hurried forth, maneuvering through the crowds heading for the gates. He didn't need a horse; he relied on his fast elven feet to carry him away to peace.

Yennefer slid a disguise into place as soon as she realized Kain wasn't just going out for a bout of fresh air. She chose the same face she'd worn the day before in the high-end brothel – only with more attire. Thankfully keeping up with him wasn't too hard, despite the fact that he was essentially racing. The spell and whatever it was doing to him was slowing him down a little.

What a stubborn witch to refuse him the solitude he sought! Anger flooded Kain's chest making him want to punish her badly enough for her to never try that on anyone ever again. It took enormous efforts to reign it down and think rationally. The forest and its cool peace helped with that.

It would help more.

Having put enough distance between them, Kain knelt in the grass and laced his fingers into the blades. His eyes closed, he focused on Dijkstra. He had to put him to sleep before doing anything else. With that done, he carefully began to reach for the nature and its power beneath the earth.

It responded readily.

It only needed a direction. It rushed readily, and fog began to thicken from the ground beneath Yennefer's boots. The first touches were tentative, probing. The second wave of power hit her hard like a stormy wave washing her off her feet and flooding her without her will, filling her too rapidly, too painfully, relentlessly, until her body couldn't manage such an overload and passed out in an attempt to save itself.

Yennefer disguise flew off as effortlessly as she did her feet, her back connecting with the ground from the force of whatever had hit her, snaking through her system agonizingly until she'd writhed on the ground like an eel and darkness consumed her.

On quiet feet Kain approached the black-and-white figure lying on the forest floor. He squatted down next to her and turned her gently onto her back. There was a bit of blood beneath her nose. There was more on her inner thighs, he knew without having to look. It was the way the likes of her used magic.

He felt a pang of guilt - for Ciri's sake. Though Yennefer pushed too far and too hard, yanking him off his already faltering self-control, a part of him regretted teaching her this lesson.

He sighed, planted his palm on the ground and another on her forehead, and closed his eyes.

"You're much more pleasant when asleep," he murmured. "Has anyone told you that?"

She couldn't resist his healing, and it went smoothly.

He deposited her in Geralt's room and quietly went away again. He needed some undisturbed time alone.

Dijkstra was awake again.


	42. Chapter 42

They made it through the city gates easily enough, but once they neared the castle, the royal guards stopped them, looking them both over skeptically.

"Turn around, travelers. This way is off limits," one of the guards said.

Ciri lowered her hood. "We request an audience with the Emperor."

The other guard snorted, amused. "You and everyone else. The Emperor is too busy to meet with filthy rats. Try again another day."

"Tell your Emperor that Princess Cirilla wishes to speak with him," Ciri said, trying to put on as much of a royal air as she could.

The guards stared, then looked between themselves, murmuring. "She has the scar."

"The hair is darker, though."

"But she's with a witcher. _The Witcher_. It must be her."

They weren't very good at concealing their conversation.

Ciri shot a look at Geralt, not sure if she was amused by their lack of experience or annoyed by the trouble.

"Princess Cirilla." A man moved quickly down the steps of the palace and towards them. It was clear from first glance he was of a higher standing than the two guards bickering like children.

He had blue eyes and dark hair that was slicked back from his face. He wore armor of a higher quality than any mere soldier would, and on his chest hung a large triangular golden medallion.

"Let them through," he ordered the two guards, who reluctantly parted. "And have someone take care of their horses."

Ciri watched the newcomer uncertainly. She could not remember ever seeing him before.

He briefly caught her gaze before lowering in a courteous bow. "Your highness. My name is Morvran Voorhis, commander of the Alba Division. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. If you and your Witcher would follow me..." He gestured back towards the stairs.

Ciri cast another look at Geralt, then slipped off Kelpie and reluctantly handed her reins to one of the guards.

The Witcher nodded in greeting when Morvran's eyes swept over him, but neither expressed any familiarity until the aristocrat led them through the corridors and halls to meet the Emperor.

"I believe congratulations are in order as we see you have found each other," Voorhis said, strolling ahead of them languidly as if he were at his family home. Which, Geralt recollected, wasn't too far from truth. "His Majesty our Emperor has been rather worried the whole time until the good news finally came. We are delighted to see you, Your Highness, in your perfect health." He granted Ciri a charming smile and bowed to her while continuing to walk. His graceful pace didn't suffer one bit, and Geralt thought he must have had a lot of practice. Meeting noble and beautiful women and remaining in his favors demanded certain skills. Morvran seemed to be in his element.

"Thank you?" Ciri wasn't sure how else to respond. She'd forgotten a lot of royal courtesy and etiquette during her years on the run. She'd had no use for it then.

Morvan led them through the guarded corridors and towards the door Ciri recognized as Emhyr's study. Already, her stomach was in knots. She hated this place, these people. Their armor continued to remind her of the assault on Cintra and how the blood had run red in the streets.

Morvan gestured to the guard positioned outside the door and said guard knocked.

"Enter," Emhyr's voice sounded from the other side.

The guard opened and Ciri, Geralt, and Morvan stepped inside.

"Your Highness," Morvan greeted, executing a similar bow that he had done for Ciri earlier. "I present to you Princess Cirilla and Geralt of Rivia."

That sounded highly comical. Especially since Emhyr knew perfectly well who they were.

"You may leave us," Emhyr said, waving his hand dismissively in Morvan's direction.

Morvan looked disappointed but did not disobey. He vanished through the door and it closed behind him.

"Two visits in two days," Emhyr mused, smiling as he regarded Ciri from behind his large desk. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"We came back to clear out certain inconsistencies," Geralt said, seeing Ciri had nothing to start with.

"Oh? And what would those be?" Emhyr never took his eyes of Ciri as if to absorb and etch her every feature into his memory.

"You handed us the pardons for the Lodge and its sorceresses. However, you refuse to extend the same courtesy to Fringilla Vigo who is a member of the Lodge."

"Ah, that." Emhyr gave a bored wince. "She is just one. You have... three on your side if I'm not mistaken? And also we should not forget about Lady Yennefer. What would this one mage change?"

"Seeing as the remaining Lodge members appear highly unwilling to help at all unless Fringilla joins them tonight – I'd say it would make a great difference," Ciri commented, trying to keep any rudeness out of her tone of voice. "I'd be so bold to say it will likely change the outcome of whether or not The Hunt has their way with me."

Emhyr kept watching her, seemingly pensive, his fingers rubbing his chin. "And what then?" he asked in a calm voice.

"What do you mean?"

Emhyr twitched his lips in an imperceptible smile. "I help you, and you defeat the Hunt and drive them out of Novigrad. What then? You forget I exist?"

"Driving them out of Novigrad won't be the end of this," Ciri said. "To stop this incessant life on the run, Eredin needs to die. And that is not likely to happen during this upcoming battle. Perhaps the next. Or the one after that. I do not know. Our main goal this time around is to protect the people of Novigrad. To prevent as much innocent bloodshed as possible. I do not know what comes next."

"You keep denying the obvious, Cirilla," Emhyr said. "Your trouble would be lesser had you accepted my protection and aid. I have mages on service. You wouldn't have to run anymore. Because you have a home. And family that wishes to protect you."

Ciri stepped forward, closer to the desk, her brow creased in something close to pain.

"The Hunt would slaughter your people. Innocents. Your soldiers. Your mages. They are not fit to handle something like this. During our last fight, we lost two men who were among the most skilled supernatural warriors this realm has ever seen. Staying here would be to condemn you and your whole city to death.

"I am asking for your aid. Just not in the way you would prefer."

Emhyr's expression didn't twitch; he kept eyeballing her with calm nonchalance.

"You lost two witchers, is that correct? Because you didn't have enough swords and mages to provide enough protection. I have all that to offer, and more. It's not a bunch of rogue witchers with a couple mages and no hope against the elves. It's an army of experienced warriors and another army of best mages this world has to offer. I would say it's a better chance for a win than you've ever had. You cannot compare."

Ciri shook her head, not sure why she was so disappointed. She should have expected this.

"So what would you have me do? Lock myself away in a tower? In this palace? Surrounded by guards and simply waiting for others to fight my battles for me?"

"No one stops you from fighting your battles. But doing it with better back-up saves a lot of lives that are otherwise lost."

"But only if I agree to a coronation, is that right? Only if I give my life away?"

Emhyr smirked. "You're not the only heir to that throne, Cirilla, but merely the most desirable. Having you around at least some time would still be my yearning. If you wish to forget me, I'm afraid there are a lot of factors that wouldn't allow it. Be it our connection, your heritage, your legacy and destiny, there will always be something to bring you back to me. If you would stop fighting our bond, it wouldn't hurt as much as when you keep resisting."

"Our bond?" Ciri stared, dumbfounded. "We have no bond. I barely even remember you from when I was a child. And all you have done since is trying to fake my death, killing my mother, my grandmother, sending bounty hunters and assassins after me, and then attempting to take me away so we could marry and breed! What on earth makes you think that created a bond between us?"

The look on Emhyr's face remained even. "It is there no matter what you say, no matter what either of us does. We're bound by blood and magic of your mother. She was wonderful. I wish she was still with me. I do, indeed. It is my biggest regret in life - losing her. Losing both of you."

She watched him for a long moment, silent, and with the burning sensation of tears stinging her eyes. A sigh escaped her and she turned away, a cacophony of feelings echoing inside her that made her confused and disoriented – shifting her closer to the edge.

Ciri undid her hair, the pins too tight against her scalp again, and ruffled it, trying to get some circulation back to her head. She wished Geralt would speak, that he would argue on her behalf. Surely he'd do a better job of it. Less... emotional.

"Do you love me?" She did not turn back to look at Emhyr, but she could see his reflection in the nearest window.

Emhyr didn't make her wait for his answer. "I always have. Does that shock you so much?"

"Because I am your daughter? Or because I am an asset?"

Emhyr shifted in his chair, looking slightly surprised and yet smiling imperceptibly like a parent whose child uttered something adorable. "Do you love your sword, Cirilla? Or your talents? Your hair? How can one _love_ an asset?"

"You'd be surprised how people can care about you only because of what you can do for them."

She'd experienced that firsthand. Most recently with Avallac'h. And that still hurt. Like someone was consistently poking at a wound that was not nearly close to healing.

"I'm never surprised, anymore," Emhyr said. "That ability dies pretty soon with the growth of experience."

She was silent for a long while again, eyeing the portrait of herself as a little girl. How she hated that portrait. How she hated all the memories now associated with it. How she hated the thought of being back at court...

"Give me Fringilla tonight," she said finally. "And I will come stay with you for a while. After The Hunt is defeated once and for all."

Emhyr smiled slightly. "Very well. Tell General Voorhis I ordered her released. He shall do what is necessary."

Ciri nodded, but still couldn't make herself look at him. She felt sick to her stomach.

Without hesitation, she headed for the door, assuming Geralt would follow her out. The Witcher was about to follow Ciri out when Emhyr stopped him.

"Witcher," he called; Geralt turned to look at him. "If you think there is anything I can do to protect her, now and in future, while she is too proud to ask - let me know. Please."

Geralt didn't respond, but gave a curt nod and went out the door.

Morvan was waiting just outside, hands behind his back. He stood to attention once Ciri and Geralt exited.

"Fringilla Vigo is to be released from the Emperor's dungeons. Now. And unharmed. She will be coming with us," Ciri said, leaving the man no room to argue.

He bowed slightly and led the way back towards the entrance hall. "Ah. I shall certainly see to her release as quickly as possible. Though I cannot promise the sorceress is entirely unharmed at this moment. You know what they are like; it takes a lot to restrain them."

Ciri simply scowled.

"Don't worry," Geralt said, seeing her mien. "She's going to be all right. If there are any injuries, the Lodge will take care of it."

She nodded mutely, her gaze set on Morvan's back as he moved up ahead to talk to some of the guards. They left shortly after and he returned to Geralt and Ciri's side, a pleasant smile on his face. "Any minute now."

It was clear from the first moment Ciri laid eyes on her, that Fringilla had not been mistreated as badly as Margarita and Triss. But she had certainly not lived a life of luxury and comfort the past few weeks. She was abnormally pale and her eyes were bloodshot, skin and hair dull and lifeless. She looked utterly surprised to see them.

"Geralt. Cirilla," she said, rubbing her wrists once the guards undid her chains. "What is happening?"

"We're taking you back to your friends. The Lodge," Ciri said simply, looking to Morvan. "Our horses. Bring them around."

Voorhis didn't seem excited about Ciri's way of addressing him but managed to keep his face and a polite smile on his mouth.

The horses were brought immediately and Roach was still chewing on her hay. Geralt helped Fringilla up behind Ciri, and they rode out.

"How did you manage to convince him?" Fringilla asked.

"It doesn't matter," Ciri answered, letting Kelpie go into a light trot once they were close to the city gates. She was eager to get Fringilla out of there before Emhyr changed his mind. "What matters is you're out. Are you hurt?"

"No, nothing bad to be concerned about," she said, casing a furtive but sharp gander at Geralt. "I hope the price isn't too high." Her arms tightened slightly around Ciri's waist. "Tell me how are you doing? Are you well? Is everyone?"

Ciri swallowed thickly. She was uncomfortable. Both with the topic of conversation and Fringilla's closeness.

Like Margarita, Fringilla had never been someone Ciri considered the worst among The Lodge. They were both more reasonable than Philippa. More pliable. But it didn't mean she trusted them.

"I'm well. A little tired, but well. Philippa, Triss, and Margarita are waiting for you in Novigrad. Yennefer is there too."

"Oh, splendid," Fringilla murmured.

Geralt met her gaze when he turned to assess her and compare with their last encounter, but the mage averted her gaze and remained reserved. Geralt wondered whether anything or everything changed in her since their past affair.

"Take her back," he told Ciri when the city was behind. "Get some rest and pick me up later. Or I'll just ride on my own. It's all right. Roach and I never mind that - the best way of travel."

"I'll come back for you as soon as possible," she said. "I can't stand being away from you any longer."

And with that, they were gone.

The Witcher watched Ciri disappear and sent Roach into a gallop. He intended to enjoy that moment of the sensations he was used to and associated with traveling and the Path.

He's had too many portals lately.

* * *

Fringilla's grasp on Ciri was painfully tight when they arrived back at the stables.

"Oh..." she breathed. "That was... different."

"I suppose," Ciri said, gently peeling the woman's arms from around her and slipping off Kelpie's back. She helped Fringilla down next and left Kelpie for now, assuring her she'd be back quickly.

"Come on. I'll escort you upstairs." Ciri led Fringilla into the inn, doing her best to shield her from whoever was curious enough to look their way, then up the stairs and to the suite the sorceresses were inhabiting. She assumed that is where Fringilla would sleep as well.

Ciri knocked on the door to the suite, and as soon as the door opened, she stepped away, heading back for the stairs. She had no intention of getting trapped in the sorceresses' web of questions and demands once again. At least she knew Fringilla had been handed over safely and that the mission was complete.

She slipped back out into the stable and removed Kelpie's gear, grooming her and feeding her, taking her time since she had sensed Geralt truly wanted some time alone with Roach. But once forty-five minutes had passed, she could not hold back any longer.

She focused on Geralt and his whereabouts, appearing quite some distance behind him in a field. He was galloping.

Ciri whistled to try and catch his attention, hoping he'd hear her and that she wouldn't have to give chase.

Geralt was quite engaged in his thoughts, and a faint whistle from behind caught his ear a bit belatedly.

He slowed Roach and turned her around, seeking out Ciri's figure. He trotted back toward her.

"Do you not tire with those jumps?" he asked, pulling her up behind him.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested the side of her face against his back.

"Not really," she said. "Not anymore. Not unless I have to jump from world to world in quick succession."

"You've seen the sorceresses or just pushed her into their room and ran? Is everything all right back there?"

"Pushed and ran. I can't take another meeting with Philippa today, or Triss telling me I am selfish for not wishing to become Empress. But all seemed fine. Calm, considering the circumstances."

"And Kain?"

"Didn't see him. Hope he is resting."

"Hmm. Maybe it'd have been best to kill Dijkstra. I somehow... didn't insist. Maybe I was wrong when I let Kain do this."

"We can't know for certain which outcome would be better. Besides, unless it was absolutely necessary, I don't think Kain would have agreed to kill him. He's like you - reluctant to take a life. It's a good thing."

"Depends on what life it is," Geralt murmured. "Sparing those who inevitably do more damage is not too wise."

"I have always admired that about you. Your reverence for life. Even when it comes to the beasts you hunt," Ciri murmured, her eyes closed. "When we were apart, I tried so hard to be like that. To not kill. Even those who had tried to hurt me. Made me feel closer to you, I suppose. I could hear your voice in my head every time I fought. Guiding me."

A small, warm smile touched the Witcher's mouth. "Sparing life when it's possible is noble, Ciri. But not the life that would come back to hurt you or your loved ones. Kain is a witcher like me, we share the same background along with mother. But he's also a druid, and she's put a bit more effort into making him like he is. He can be ruthless, but only when he sees no other option.

"He might not know Dijkstra as well, however, and thus he chose to spare him and suffer for that choice himself. I'm not so sure it was worth it."

"What would happen to Kain should Djikstra die now?"

"I'm no mage, I have no idea," he admitted. "But he wouldn't die. He's unharmed. Merely a bit controlled. Someone has to rule down Redania now and redirect their fury to where we need it."

"Soon enough he won't have a choice. To sit back and not fight will mean death for anyone still in Novigrad come the day The Hunt returns."

"His task has been to undermine witch hunts and make people believe that mages and non-humans are their hope instead of enemy. He would put Redanian soldiers to fight."

She was silent a while, simply enjoying having Geralt all to herself for a time.

"All these people clambering for power, wanting to rule... is it really all so they can change things for the better? Do you believe that?"

"Anyone with a power to rule can change things for better or worse," said the Witcher. "Not everybody wants to. Their selfish desires almost always come first."

"I think power corrupts. I think being given that much power will eventually destroy the person you used to be. If there was any good in said person to begin with."

"I can't know about that," Geralt said. "It's sad to believe there could be no true rulers in the world. The Craite family on Skellige Isles does a good job, though."

"I agree. They have managed to keep themselves good. Probably because they are so far away from the rest of us," Ciri murmured. She lifted her head. "Do you want me to take us back?"

He sighed and smiled a little. "I wish we could just run away and stay on our own. Get Kain and Dandelion and travel the roads, be at peace. But for now we have to go back and see if everyone is all right. If Kain can still handle Dijkstra as he said."

He observed the sky; they had a few hours before dark.

She smiled. "That's a lovely dream. One I have had many times."

Of course, in Ciri's version Yennefer was also present. It worried her that didn't seem to be the way for Geralt anymore.

"How are things with Yennefer?" she asked cautiously. "Are you getting along?"

He shrugged, "I would guess so."

"And that's as far as it goes?" She leaned forward, trying to rest her chin on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Geralt, for asking such questions. I know you don't like it. But I feel as though my parents have split up and I am just... trying to understand what will happen now."

"I don't know what to tell you, Ciri. She's beautiful, smart, desirable, but I don't remember being... close. The kind of close that makes the two like one. What you feel is not what I know or understand."

"And it is not something you would want?" She asked. "To get close?"

"I don't know. I wasn't meant to be close to anyone. It's not something I was allowed to want." Geralt smirked recalling Kain saying the same things. He now felt the same way Kain should have felt when everyone kept asking about Ciri, Geralt realized. It was rather ironic.

"Romantically, you mean? Because you have experienced other kinds of love. Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert, Coen… You love them, do you not?"

"Witchers aren't meant to be in love," he specified.

"Who made that rule?" she wondered.

"Those who made our kin. We are being made for specific purposes, and any romance is not within that purpose. I'm not human, Ciri. I'm made to protect humans from what they can't protect themselves from."

"You're just as human as I am," she insisted softly because somehow she liked the thought of them being the same. "Do you remember what it was like before? Before you got the mutations?"

"Not anymore. It was too long ago and feels like a foggy dream."

"Do you think I would have been better off if I had gotten the mutations? Do you think it would have made me stronger?"

"No! I'd never wish it upon anyone. That's the truth. I had no choice concerning my life, but with yours I did. Besides, Kaer Morhen was never the same after the massacre, no longer able to make more witchers."

"I don't know," she said despite Geralt's insistence. "Maybe it would have made me better. Less... emotional. I'm so angry all the time. It makes me feel like my whole body is on fire. Avallac'h says it's the Elder Blood. But I'm starting to fear it might be something else. Emhyr. Maybe his angry, violent genes were never supposed to be mixed with the Elder Blood."

"No one else is to blame for your temper, Ciri. You're the only one ever responsible for your emotions. Believing otherwise is a weakness."

"Mm," she murmured in agreement. "Was I an angry child? When you first got to know me? I can hardly remember anymore."

"When we met in Brokilon, you were very boisterous and haughty, like a little queen. And later, in Kaer Morhen, you showed there was a pent up anger in you after things you'd been through during the war."

Ciri smiled ever so slightly. "I hope I have changed since then at least. Or do I still act like a spoiled princess?"

Geralt grinned, amused. "Even if you are a spoiled princess, you're my little princess. Which means you're the best gift this life's given me."

She laughed, squeezing his waist punishingly. "Did you ever think you'd be a father?"

"Not even in my nightmares," he jibed.

"Your life would be dull without me." It probably wouldn't, but she liked saying it.

She brought them back to the inn's stable in a flash and slipped off of a disgruntled Roach's back.

The Witcher dismounted and pulled the bridle off Roach's head. Roach moved her lips and shifted to the heap of hay.

"I'll be in a bit," Geralt said, jerking his chin toward the inn inviting Ciri to go inside.

"Alright." Ciri pulled her gloves off as she walked and entered the inn soon after. She made her way upstairs and knocked on Kain's door. There was no answer. Gently, she pushed the door open and peered inside, assuming he was sleeping.

But no. The room was empty.

As she closed the door she searched her own instincts, dreading the thought Philippa might have dragged him upstairs to their suite to have their way with him.

But once more, no. He was nowhere in the inn. She could sense it. Perhaps he had gone to the forest? It would not surprise her.

She looked into her own room in search of Yennefer, and when she did not find her there, peered into Geralt's room. There she was, atop his bed, sleeping.

Or at least that's what it looked like at first glance?

"Yennefer?" Ciri asked once she spotted the trace of dried blood from under the sorceress' nose, stepping into the room. "Yennefer? Can you hear me?"

Yennefer awoke at the sound of a probing voice with a ball of anger in her gut so strong that she didn't know if she was breathing or spitting fire.

She met Ciri's concerned gaze hovering over her, and felt that heat lessen.

Yennefer didn't move, not right away, her hand coming up to her nose, to touch the dried blood as if to make sure she actually felt it there. She licked her fingers and swiped at the stickiness, restoring order as she sat up.

Kain attacked her.

Wasn't too hard to assume given where she'd ended up.

Yennefer freed her hair of twigs and other dirt she'd picked up after she'd gone down, and fixed Ciri with an assessing gaze.

"How did it go?"

"What?" Ciri blinked, confused by the situation. "What happened to you?"

Yennefer shrugged off the fretful question. "A dispute. I'm fine. How did things with Emhyr go?"

"Fine," Ciri murmured, her brow still creased in concern and confusion. "We got Fringilla."

"Great," Yennefer said, pushing up off the mattress so she could check her reflection in the mirror. She was also feeling sticky in other areas. "What did you have to promise Emhyr this time?"

"It doesn't matter," Ciri said, not wishing to think about it. And her mind was still on Yennefer. "Did Philippa do this? Did she hurt you?"

"Of course the latest demands from the Emperor matter," Yennefer stated, swiveling around to face Ciri. "What doesn't matter is this." Yennefer gestured to herself. Her face was clear of blood and there was nothing else besides her unconsciousness to suggest there had been any trouble at all. "Philippa didn't do anything to me. I surmise that with all her support at her beck and call, she's discussing her latest plan for political dominion and couldn't be bothered. How's Geralt?"

"He's fine. Out getting Roach ready for the night." Ciri hesitated. "Did Kain leave?"

"Kain went for a walk. If he isn't here already, I assume he'll be back by morning."

Ciri nodded, satisfied. "He prefers the forest. Easier to heal there. Easier to live, I suppose." She watched Yennefer, unsure if she was really all right and how much to push. "Will you come down for dinner?"

Yennefer nodded gently. "I need a moment to wash up. I'll meet you down there?"

"Alright." Ciri smiled, but concern was still on the forefront of her mind.

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her, heading down to the bar to see if Geralt had made it inside.

There was no one at the counter, and Geralt helped himself to a bottle of wine. He was significantly hungry and considering going to some tavern. What stopped him was the thought of how the taverns must be packed with people buzzing over Radovid's death and the upcoming battle.

Ciri took a seat next to him, reaching over the counter to find a clean mug for herself. "Pour some for me as well, please?"

He did and pushed the mug to her. "You look worried. Kain is not all right?"

"He went for a walk, apparently. Probably to see his griffin, but..." She leaned in a little, as if the room was filled with people who could overhear their conversation. "When I walked into your room I found Yennefer unconscious on your bed, bleeding from her nose. Said she had an altercation but wouldn't expand on that."

He frowned, "Strange. Though hardly she would tell if she doesn't want to. Is she unwell?"

He thought of Fringilla. She didn't seem in the mood to fight anyone. Unless that anyone started a fight.

"I don't know?" Ciri admitted. "She was moving around alright. Perhaps a little unsteady? Help me keep an eye on her? Just in case."

"How do you propose I do that?" he smiled. "Follow her around? Where is she now?"

"No," Ciri said patiently. "Just when you are near each other or in the same room. In case she collapses or something of the like. She said she would come down to dinner after washing up."

"And what are you going to do?" He glanced at her with an ironic smile. "The same but with Kain?"

"I'm keeping an eye on her, too." She wasn't sure what was so hard to understand about all this.

Yennefer hadn't bothered to take a full bath, instead she'd taken off her pants, washed between her legs to be rid of the blood there, and pulled on a new pair. She'd save that for much later. When she was done and felt refreshed again, she headed downstairs to the dining area to join them for supper.

"Bombs all ready," Zoltan announced emerging from the cellar with his face grey and black with all the dust and oils. "I'll wash up and hope some dinner serves itself by then - I'm starvin'."

"Dandelion is probably asleep, but we'll see if anyone is in the kitchen today," Geralt said.

Zoltan scowled. "Sleepin, that lazy bastard? Horseshit. I don't have it in me to cook. Ye better find someone, Geralt." He headed for the stairs and met Yennefer who was descending. "Greetings," he muttered and went past her, rubbing his neck.

"Zoltan," Yennefer greeted as she squeezed past him on the stairs.

"I suppose I could try to put something together," Ciri said with mild doubt in her voice. She wasn't the best cook. Certainly not up to Zoltan's standards.

"What are you in the mood for?" A question directed at both Geralt and Yennefer, the latter having only just joined them.

"Meat," Yennefer answered once she was within hearing range of the question. "Potatoes. Whatever you want to make is fine by me."

The Witcher sighed, downed his wine and stood up, headed for the kitchen. One of the women working at the inn was there washing vegetables in a basin while tears trickled down her cheeks.

"What's the matter?" Geralt asked.

She started, wiping tears hurriedly. "N-No, m'lord, nothin. Nothin at all. I'm... eh... supper. I'll make—"

"Why are you crying?" he asked, trying to make his voice softer. He must have succeeded because the woman's face crunched up and she shook her head.

"M'so afeared, m'lord," she confessed through sobs. "What's to be with us now..."

"You're safe here. Nothing shall befall you, I promise."

"Oh... even if so... m'sister and her fam'ly, m'lord. They live out the gate."

"They'll be fine," Geralt said. "The Hunt will not venture out of the city, and we'll stop them here. Your relatives are safe, however, it might be better to get further away for after tomorrow. To be safer."

"I'll... I shall tell 'em, m'lord," she said, wiping her face with already wet backs of her hands while scrubbing potatoes vigorously in the basin. "Thank thee, m'lord."

"Will there be dinner soon?"

"Course, m'lord. Right away. Chicken and potatoes, m'lord?"

"Yes, would be nice. Thanks. You had a helper..."

"Ah, Sera, aye, m'lord, she's livin in the city, 's hard to get 'ere with... all that..."

He nodded and returned to the main room.

"The woman in the kitchen will cook," he announced, settling back, and poured himself another cup. "You feeling all right, Yennefer?" He regarded her, sipping. "Who hurt you?"

Yennefer darted a glance at Ciri. The sorceress expected her to inform Geralt, but she hadn't really expected him to ask. "Like I assured our child upstairs, I'm fine. It was more something I did to myself, than anyone else."

Geralt studied her for a long moment, sipping wine. "Why does it look shady to me?" he remarked afterwards. "How embarrassing can it be to tell us why you've been bleeding from your nose when Ciri found you?"

Yennefer rolled her eyes. "It's not embarrassing." It was infuriating. "You have your secrets, I have mine. Why does it matter?"

Ciri looked between the two with the eyes of a child uncertain of her place, sipping her wine greedily. "As long as you are alright."

The Witcher didn't particularly like the insinuation about secrets, but shrugged and refilled his cup. "Very well."

"I am," Yennefer assured, gifting the both of them a smile in turn. "I appreciate the concern though."

Ciri idly twirled a lock of hair around her finger, the awkwardness of her companions and the tension between them setting in.

"Do you think The Lodge will keep their word now they have Fringilla?"

"Triss will make sure that they do."

"If they don't, we will fight on our own with those troops available," said Geralt. "Just as we usually would. A part of me, however, believes it won't come to that. They don't want you dead. Us, on the other hand, they would likely abandon."

"What do you mean?" she asked, eyeing Geralt. "Won't come to what? Don't let them get off that easy, Geralt. We went to prison for them. I endured—" Yennefer didn't even want to think about it. "Fact is, you did your part. You both did. It's their turn to step up to the table."

"They know the deal. But is it my place to enforce it? There's not much I can do against sorceresses. I'm a witcher. Signs won't do much to them."

"I'll send them to the world of waste," Ciri teased. "I once landed in a world made completely of offal. Smelled wonderful."

Yennefer grinned in Ciri's direction. "You do that."

"If only it helped us anyhow," Geralt sighed.

"So what about that dinner, eh?"

Zoltan, changed into clean shirt, was descending the stairs followed by a yawning Dandelion.

"Why you torment me so," the poet muttered.

The dinner was ready in a bit, and they all dug in enthusiastically, each having discovered how starving they were.

"We need to save some for Kain," Ciri said between mouthfuls of chicken. "He doesn't get that many home-cooked meals. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"Where the heck is he?" Zoltan asked, just now realizing the man in question wasn't around.

Yennefer made a point of helping herself to an extra portion of chicken at Ciri's mention of saving for Kain.

"Went for a walk. Wasn't feeling well," Ciri answered, having a sip of her mead. "I will go find him once I am finished."

"Maybe we shouldn't," Geralt assumed. "He might need some time alone in the woods."

"He probably wants the comfort nature has to offer," Yennefer added.

Ciri hadn't suggested they would, but her alone. Though with Geralt and Yennefer's reluctance, new uncertainties arose.

Maybe he didn't want her to come. Maybe he wasn't even in the forest but somewhere else.

Maybe he was with Fealinn.

Ciri remained silent, eyes on the meal in front of her.

"Unless the headache got worse," Geralt mused, washing the meal down with wine.

Ciri blinked. "What... you're saying he's out there somewhere... hurt?"

Geralt gave her an incredulous look. "I've been with you all the time. He had a headache when we left. I haven't seen him since. But I do know he prefers the wilderness to heal."

Ciri took a last bite of her meal and stood, still chewing as she wrapped up some chicken and potatoes for Kain.

"I'll find him. Make sure he is alright. If he wants to be alone he will simply send me away."

Yennefer smiled, reaching out to place one of her hand's on Geralt's arm, a let-her-go-and-do-as-she-wishes signal. "Just be careful out there. Cover up."

Geralt cast a bewildered glance Yennefer's way, then nodded at Ciri, "It'd be best if neither of you stayed in the woods for the night. We don't know what happens tomorrow. What if Eredin decides to come a day early?"

"I'll try and bring him back but make no promises," she said, pulling on her hood, the wrap of food under one arm as she disappeared.

"Yer mages all here?" Zoltan asked, chewing. "All ready for tomorrow or whenever that shite comes."

"Yes, seems like it," Geralt said.

"Wonderful," Dandelion muttered, pouring himself wine. "The more mages, the merrier."

Yennefer watched the shift of light and then Ciri disappear. Her form of travel was no more different than that of Yennefer's own, but it was more sophisticated and as if it were part of who she was.

"You should leave Novigrad," Yennefer added, averting her gaze to Dandelion. "Priscilla, too. Soon you won't have much time left."

Dandelion flashed her a look full of self-righteous indignation. "We aren't leaving. At least I wasn't going to. I don't suppose this should go badly, given mages and, well, two witchers. Geralt?" He regarded the Witcher with a squint. "Do you also believe I should go away?"

Geralt shrugged, eyeing him, "It might get bad, none of us can know in advance. Maybe it's best for you to be somewhere safe. Outside of the city."

"First of all, we have a cellar here," Dandelion said. "And second - no, I'm not leaving you. I'll try to convince Priscilla to hide someplace, however. Not sure she would agree, but..."

"It's best she does," Zoltan said. "Ye should, too, and ye know it."

"I do not run from my city," Dandelion said through gritted teeth and forked more chicken and potatoes.

Yennefer said, "It's not so much about running, as it is making sure Geralt doesn't have to worry about you. You know he will. It'll be distracting."

"I don't think it's ever been a problem when we traveled together," the poet scowled, reprimanding Yennefer with his gaze. "I will stay and help and... see what happens with my own eyes. As I always prefer to do."

Geralt smirked subtly, chewing.

"Ye think it's to be another of your ballads, ye dumb arse," Zoltan chortled, shaking his head. "Here's to hope Pris's smarter."

"Eat your chicken," Dandelion grumbled.

"You're more fool than poet," Yennefer retorted.

Dandelion shot her a glare, "Loud words from someone who doesn't possess a natural talent."

"Let us not go there now," Geralt asked.

"I didn't start it!" Dandelion cried.

"Then don't try to finish it," Zoltan suggested, smirking.

"I could use this unnatural talent to turn you into a slug and put you into a glass jar until this battle is over, if you'd prefer?" Yennefer smiled.

"Geralt!" Dandelion dropped his fork, pointing at her. "Do you hear that?"

"No one's turning anyone into slugs here," Geralt said calmly. "We have a battle coming. You need to stop bickering among yourselves."

Yennefer smiled around her fork at the rhymester's outrage. "Why when we have a little time in need of entertainment. Isn't that what the troubadour's about?"

"Stop it, Yennefer," Geralt said matter-of-factly, finishing his meal.

"Yes, you better stop all those horrific insinuations," the bard suggested, pointing his fork her way as if to emphasize the words. "No one wins from your bitter moods. I'm… I'm ready to part with a bottle of Erveluce if it makes your tongue at least a bit less venomous tonight. We are opening in a few minutes."

People began to come already, and the situation in the kitchen improved greatly when the second maid found her way to the inn. Priscilla came down to settle behind the counter while Dandelion and Zoltan were busy finishing dinner. The blonde bard nodded, smiling, at them.

* * *

Kain opened his eyes when Griffin croaked raising his head. The sun was setting, but it was still enough light to see Ciri approaching their campfire.

She found Kain with ease; she was getting better at this. She wandered over and gently lowered the food on the ground next to him, taking a seat.

"How's the head?"

"Better out here," he said, casting a brief gander at the bundle. "Smells like food, though we've eaten. Thank you."

Ciri shrugged, smiling a little. "Save it for later in case you plan to stay out here."

"I probably shouldn't. We can't predict what the Hunt will do and when they will."

"Just like your brother," she laughed softly. "That should disturb me and yet..." She shrugged once more.

Kain narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean?"

"Only that while I see him as a father figure, I refuse to do the same with you. And I am not calling you 'uncle', no matter how much Geralt teases me with it."

Kain looked dumbfounded. "What brought you upon that particular thought right now?"

"Just that you sound alike at times."

Kain's lips twitched in amusement. "I see. Is that strange for you?"

Ciri considered it. "Not as strange as I thought it might be."

Kain leaned his head back against Griffin's side and observed the campfire. "How was it in Vizima?"

"Much the same as yesterday. A lot of arguing, and him trying to convince me I belong at his side."

She paused.

"We got Fringilla, though."

"Good news, then. Did he just hand her over? No demands made?"

"There are always demands. People don't do things out of the good of their hearts."

"What did you have to agree to?"

"Once The Hunt is defeated, I have to go stay with him for a while. Let him try and convince me to agree to a coronation. It is a waste of everyone's time, but..." She shrugged. "Got us Fringilla."

Kain reflected on it a few seconds. "You think he genuinely wants to get to know you or you don't trust him one bit?"

"I think he needs me for his public image to improve. He doesn't want me because I am his daughter. He doesn't care. The way he looks at me... like I am a prize to be won..." She swallowed. "I don't trust anything about him."

Kain's mouth twitched expressing uncertainty. "Someone else's heart is a secret. Unless one reads things invisible to others. Not everybody has the perfect control, perfect ability to gain peace of mind. Therefore, their emotions can be read, if one knows how." He looked at her. "If you will have to spend some time with him alone, you might learn something if you choose to and pay attention."

"There is nothing about him that I want to learn. Being in his presence makes my skin crawl. In him I see myself being orphaned - twice. I feel the corpses piling up atop me as I try to crawl my way out of Cintra. I see assassins and bounty hunters, violent assailants and rapists.

"I hate him. The only good he ever did me was to promise me to Geralt while I was still in my mother's womb."

"Not the best way to think about one's father," Kain commented in a quiet, meditative voice. "Not completely undeserved, and yet... you know of things his actions and choices brought upon you. But what you also need to know is that not all of those choices might have gone as planned, nor not all of things he did you can take personally. What he feels for you, specifically, is still something unique, something you cannot generalize. Those who sit on thrones and make decisions for kingdoms are not always thinking like average people do, because you have to get into another mindset altogether to be a ruler. Strategies look past the faces at a larger scale."

Ciri scowled. "Why are you so eager for me to forgive the man who killed my family? Why should I give him a chance?"

"I'm not eager for anything, Ciri," he explained calmly. "All I'm saying is you judge him by just one side while he has another one you haven't seen. It makes your judgement incomplete. It's up to you what to feel and decide. But if you promised to spend time with him, you might as well try to read him better. This way it won't be a complete waste of time as you put it."

"Maybe," she conceded. Reading did not equal forgive or befriend. She may even be able to find some of his weaknesses. Just in case. "Anyway, it could be a long time until it happens. If it even happens at all. We're nowhere near defeating The Hunt."

"We can't know how far we are, or close. Better not draw any conclusions."

It was getting darker, and the sky turned darker shades of purple.

"Are you hungry?" He gestured to her bundle. "We have to go soon."

She shook her head. "I already ate. You have it, or give it to Griffin as a snack. If he likes his chicken cooked, that is?"

"He's not into chicken, let alone cooked, and I'm full for tonight. You can leave it for the wolves or dogs roaming the woods."

She grabbed the wrap and got to her feet, taking a few steps away from the makeshift campsite to throw the leftovers in amongst the trees. She wasn't sure if the napkin was of any importance to Dandelion, but decided to bring it back just in case it was.

Kain got to his feet with effort and turned to look at Griffin who got up and croaked in protest. He knew he was going to be alone again.

The beast pressed his head to Kain's chest as Kain scratched behind his ears. After a bit, Griffin detached from his friend and headed into the thicket. Kain watched after him with sad longing.

Just for a bit more, he thought. Just a bit.

"We walk back or..?" he returned his attention to Ciri.

"Depends on you," she said, gazing after the retreating griffin. "What would you prefer?"

"I do appreciate the natural way of getting from one place to another. But I don't know if the streets are any calmer."

She held out her hand to him, allowing him to choose whether or not they would travel by magic.

He cast another glance at the trees where Griffin disappeared, then took Ciri's offered hand.

She brought them to Kain's room where she knew no one who was not supposed to see them would. She took a moment to make sure the travel hadn't somehow worsened his head, then let go of his hand.

"Fealinn came through," she said with a small smile, holding up her bracelet for him to see.

"Good," he settled in the chair at the fireplace and lit the logs with a wave of a hand. "Nice work, must be a dwarven master. I see it doesn't limit you."

"It hasn't yet," she said, examining the piece of jewelry. "Does dimeritium work on druids?"

"I don't know, but I assume it has an effect on any mage of this world, aside from Elder Blood abilities."

"I assume you've never had experience with it before. Otherwise you'd know you're... different."

"It's a rare metal used for certain purposes by people hunting the mages. No one ever managed to get these shackles on me. I had no way of knowing."

"Can I get you anything?" Ciri asked, lowering her arm to her side. "Something to drink? Anything to help with the headache."

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. You need your rest."

She nodded. "If you're certain. Wake me if you get worse." That way she would not have to worry too much for the rest of the night.

He merely smiled and didn't respond, knowing he wouldn't wake her in that case.

* * *

She left him to it and headed downstairs to inform the others they had made it back safely. No one needed to worry more than was necessary.

She stopped behind Geralt and leaned down over him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. "Back and safe."

"You both all right?" Geralt asked, reclining into her a little and turning to look at her with a smile.

"He's in pain but managing. Honestly, I think it's harder for him to stay here than it is to handle pain," she murmured.

"What do you mean?" he frowned.

"I think he misses his old life. The solitude, nature, his griffin."

"We all miss what was before the Hunt. You, me, and he does, as well."

"Sometimes I feel selfish for having fought so hard for him to come with us," she admitted.

"We wouldn't know we're brothers if you hadn't," Geralt said. "I do not know, however, whether it'd be for better or worse."

"For you or him?"

"Both. It's still a bit confusing for both of us. Though... now that I know, I wouldn't wish to forget."

"Perhaps you just need to spend some more time together," Ciri suggested. "Hopefully you will get the chance to after the battle."

"We'll see what happens after the battle. Too early to plan now."

She nodded and straightened. "I'm going to go have a bath. See you in the morning."

Ciri squeezed Geralt's shoulder, then Yennefer's, as she made her way past them towards the stairs.

She worked to fill the tub with hot water, since everyone at the inn seemed to either have gone home to hide or were busy elsewhere. She didn't mind. It just took her a bit longer before she could have her bath.

Once the tub was sufficiently full, she placed a chair in front of her door. It wouldn't keep anyone out but would give her a bit of a warning should anyone try to enter. Which people, in general, seemed to like doing whenever she was 'indecent'.

Ciri undressed and climbed into the tub, sighing contentedly. One hand sank beneath the water and snaked between her thighs. She leaned her head back against the wooden rim and closed her eyes.

She was ready to put this day behind her and forget her troubles. If only for a bit.


	43. Chapter 43

Yennefer finished off her meal, pushed aside her plate, gaze darting between Zoltan, Geralt and back to Dandelion, and then slowly rose up off her chair to head back upstairs. But not before Dandelion had offered her that drink. Coming down, Yennefer expected an update about Emhyr and what he wanted Ciri to do for him this time, but neither had come up with any kind of explanation before everyone else appeared.

Neither would they.

She stepped into Geralt's room again, lighter on her feet, the only solace she had in this place, and wondered if she should have asked Dandelion to sort out another in which she could stay. Things weren't the same as they were before, Geralt hardly knew her apart from what she'd told him—what Ciri informed him of—and if last night's activities had been of any indication, their connection was without its usual hold. At least where Geralt was concerned.

"Will you finally tell me what really happened?" Geralt said, coming quietly behind her. "The room smells of blood. More than one would expect from a minor nosebleed."

"It's just blood, Geralt," Yennefer stated offhandedly. "It's not important. It's not as if I hadn't shed enough of it over the last seven days."

"This is a safe place, so it's different. The more you brush it off, the more it assures me it's something significant." He approached her, hovering over her, his hand taking her chin. "What happened to you, Yennefer?"

"I had a disagreement with your brother. He doesn't take kindly to interrogation or any other guiles."

Geralt's face darkened. "Interrogation? What the hell did you do and why?"

Yennefer sighed, tilting her head back to free her head of his hand, and proceeded to undo the laces on her corset. "Because I can. And he'll live."

"Yennefer," he growled. "What were you thinking? What did you do? Tell me."

"I was thinking that I wanted to get to know him a little." Yennefer shrugged unapologetically. "I didn't do anything. I spoke to him—offered to take him to his griffin, and he had a meltdown."

"He never gets any meltdowns. That means you're lying to me."

"Seems to be a lot of that going around," Yennefer deliberated. She spun on her heels, fixing him considerate look. "How was last night?"

His mien creased with bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

Yennefer lips twitched into an eloquent smile. "I could use another drink."

He glared at her, trying hard to rule down his anger. "Tell me what happened between you and my brother."

"Why don't you go ask him?"

"I'm asking you. Why can't you tell me?"

"Perhaps for the same reason you answered my question about last night with a question."

Geralt emitted another growl of frustration. "What the hell are you talking about? I was at Passiflora last night. What about it? You know why I've been there."

Yennefer's smile didn't falter, but her eyes insisted he keep talking. "And why's that?"

"We met with Dijkstra and Roche. Then we stayed for the night. You know all that. Now tell me what I want to know."

In the past, when it came to telling her that, Geralt might have done so with caution; this time, however, there wasn't even a touch of it – not even an inkling.

"We talked. That was it."

Yennefer turned her back on him and proceeded to undress so she could make decent use of the bath before attempting her hand at rest.

Geralt tightened his jaw, annoyed to no end, as well as concerned. "We both know he wouldn't attack you for just talking, Yennefer. Tell me the truth."

"He attacked me because I took a slight peek into his head, offered to take him to his griffin, and then followed him when he left."

Geralt mulled it over, trying to piece the story together so it made sense. She certainly wasn't going to provide details that were important.

Kain would tell him if he asked.

Geralt sighed, feeling tired.

"You just can't help yourself," he said quietly, lowering to sit on the bed, rubbing his neck. "Invading people's minds for the hell of it like it's nothing. No one likes to be treated like that. That's why you mages are despised and hunted. But you never learn."

"You don't despise me," Yennefer added with a confidence that came from years of assurance. "So it never mattered." It still didn't. "I didn't hurt him. He's fine."

"But you fought and he hurt _you_. It shouldn't have happened. He trusted you because of Ciri and me, and you showed him he was wrong. That is not what I would call fine, Yennefer. You broke his trust by reverting to your ugly habit and then he hurt you."

"What would you like me to do about it?"

He peered at her, deadpan. "What can you do about it? Changing your ways around people who are your allies is not in your nature, apparently. So what is there you can do about it?"

"I suppose I could promise not to take such liberty around him again."

He gave an ironic sneer. "As if you would actually do as you promised."

"Then what's the point of having this conversation?"

"I wanted to hear what happened and how serious it was." He thought of something else, and his brow furrowed once again. "You mentioned interrogation. What was that about?"

"Ciri. I was just inquisitive about his intentions toward her."

Geralt couldn't help but laugh, quietly, in helpless irony. "Yes, I see why he wouldn't be so fond of that conversation. You're not the first to pry."

"As her mother, I assumed I'd be allowed some reserve about that."

"You're not _his_ mother. Ask Ciri if you feel that curious, but why demand any answers from him? What intentions do you expect from him when they just recently met? You give them no time to even think about any intentions among our battles. We have to leave them be."

Yennefer laughed with a touch of cynicism. "And I assume you've asked neither of them about their feelings?"

"I didn't interrogate either. Ciri shared a few things with me. Whatever she thinks she feels doesn't change whether he's receptive of it or not. They have to be left alone with that subject. It's no one's business but exclusively their own."

"He said the same. That family resemblance is beginning to show more."

"It's nothing but common sense rather than resemblance. Do you enjoy being interrogated about your own feelings? Why would you think you had the right to force things out of him?"

"Not by people that are set to harm me. You think I'm a threat to them?"

"He doesn't know you. He's been taught that all mages could be threats. He's been taught to hide himself and everything about his true feelings and identity. He's been a spy for years. Revealing personal secrets to you goes against his habits. So why would you expect him to view you differently from any other sorceress he's met here when you prove his caution right the first chance you get?"

"I didn't do anything to him that was the least bit hurtful. Invasive, maybe. But I wasn't trying to harm him like Philippa."

"What you think it feels like doesn't mean it feels the same to another person, Yennefer. Due to his life and past, he perceives your actions more acutely than you mean it. If he chose to fight you, it means you allowed yourself to push too far. Good thing he didn't hurt you too badly."

"Given the state Kain was already in, would you have suggested I just let him go? With what you know is out there? Ciri asked me to keep an eye on him. I did. I could have let him go when he stormed out, but I didn't, because of that, and because I knew that if anything serious happened to him that neither of you would have appreciated it."

"The difference is that I trust him to be able to take care of himself - he's been successfully doing so for over thirty years. He's not a child, but a witcher. One of the best."

"That doesn't mean that any of our enemies can't take advantage of him."

Geralt had to smile, a tiny bit condescendingly. "He's a grown man, a witcher and a mage with powers exceeding that of the Lodge altogether. His other skills make him hard to trick. I assure you, he doesn't need to be guided or protected."

"You're quite capable of protecting yourself. Ciri is, too. Does that stop us?" Yennefer shrugged since they were running circles around the point.

He shrugged. "I'm trying to not make Ciri feel smothered. But she has been taken from me for years, and I couldn't protect her. With Kain it's not the same. He's my equal. I've seen what he can do. I trust he's capable of more than I am. I don't need to protect him. Rather he can provide aid in that field."

"And yet, it still doesn't matter. Even Kain has weakness and it only takes one person to find it and exploit it. You know this."

"Nothing we can save him from," he spread his arms. "We don't see the future."

A maid and the man that served as innkeeper came in with a knock bringing three buckets of hot water. They poured it into the tub, then added a few hot boulders from the fireplace to heat it better, bowed and left.

Yennefer watched the inn staff come and go, unconcerned with her partial state of undress as they tended to the bath. She removed the remainder, eased over the rim and made swift work scrubbing her troubles away.

"How was Ciri dealing with Emhyr so soon after the last?"

"She did fine," he began to undo the belts of his jerkin. "She also can stand her ground without anyone's help. She's grown. She can handle him."

Yennefer nodded, wondering if he actually thought that made a difference to her. Ciri was her daughter, part of who she was, and therefore–no matter what she had to face–she wouldn't do it alone.

"Then I suppose she's the only one who can."

"Perhaps so." He discarded his jerkin and shirt on a chair and toed off his boots, then checked the water in the tub. It was hot enough, and he pulled out the boulders, one by one, returning them in the fireplace.

He took off his pants and lowered himself into the tub.

Yennefer turned within the tub to make space, drawing her knees against her body, letting her hands sweep over her legs, and down to other parts of her body. "Did he have anything of interest to say to you?"

"He ignored my existence - he was talking to Ciri."

Yennefer hemmed her acknowledgement. She'd had a similar experience when she and Ciri had gone to the palace.

"That won't change." She rather preferred it.

Yennefer splashed water onto her face, scrubbing her hands against her cheeks, finished off periodically with the rest before getting out. She toweled herself off and then headed for bed.

The Witcher washed his arms and chest, watching her wistfully. And furtively gauging if she was feeling as fine as she had stated to both Ciri and him.

"Why did you ask about last night when you knew exactly what we were doing there?"

"Curious."

Yennefer pondered, pulling the sheet back from the bed, sliding beneath the covers to make herself comfortable against the pillows.

"Why do you think I asked?"

"You can be curious when you don't know," he reasoned with a hint of a smile. "You knew. You've been there and saw it. So why would you ask? You were expecting me to lie or avoid answering?"

"You don't feel that way inclined, considering?"

Geralt laughed, and reached for the towel before getting up. "Boy, you mages are vague. Inclined to avoid or lie considering what?"

Yennefer rolled her eyes lightly. "Doesn't matter."

To spell it out felt preposterous.

"We should get sleep. We've a lot to prepare for tomorrow."

He contemplated while drying himself off, then hung the towel over the chair's back and went to bed.

"You wanted me to pass on sex. I get it. What I don't get is whether you have been faithful to me all these decades since the Rinde incident. You weren't the type - that much I do remember."

Yennefer chuckled bitterly. To compare the trouble and doubts their relationship had before to what she'd hoped they'd become after the ship and the djinn was insulting. Not that he'd know that.

"Neither of us was faithful. We're not now, either."

Yennefer sunk into her pillow, twisting slightly, pushing it beneath her head so she could roll over onto her shoulder and find a touch of actual comfort.

"And yet you wished to see my guilt," he marveled. "If it's of any consolation, I wouldn't be there if not for Dijkstra."

"It's not," Yennefer retorted honestly—but without heat—and closed her eyes. Geralt had been there, he did get intimate with that elven whore, and he had written it off as though it were nothing. That couldn't be changed.

Geralt stretched, placed his hands beneath his head and thought of how her violet eyes flashed in his mind when the elf girl's hands roamed his body and her green eyes searched his face. He closed his eyes and thought of that passion in the rubble Yennefer shared with him in Rinde. He thought of an uncharacteristic vulnerability he glimpsed in her then, and in Skellige.

He slept.

* * *

Geralt had still been asleep beside Yennefer when she woke, easing out from beneath the covers to go in search of a fresh pair of clothes. Her last. She needed what remained of her garments to be washed. There hadn't been time for that, and she rarely let people manhandle her belongings unless she knew she could trust them. There wasn't time in this setting.

Yennefer did her usual routine, reapplying her make-up, doing her hair, and once she'd dressed, carefully made her way downstairs to check on breakfast.

She had a little research she wanted to look into and with The Wild Hunt coming in to destroy the city, she had to be sure her options would endure.

* * *

When Ciri had dressed for the morning, she opened her window and climbed outside onto the roof. She leaned against the chimney, not sitting down this time but instead using her full height to try and get a good look at the city.

She wondered where The Hunt would appear. Would their portals open in the middle of the city? Or would they come from the forest? If from the forest, would they make sure to create havoc among the houses outside of the city walls as well? Fealinn?

Ciri's brow creased in concern. They needed a plan of action. One for every variable.

She climbed back inside and made her way to Geralt's room, prodding him with two fingers. Yennefer was already gone.

"Geralt. Wake up."

The Witcher groaned in protest and tried to turn away from the disturber of peace.

"Why, Ciri..."

Ciri took hold of his broad shoulders to keep him from turning away. "We have so much to do. We have to make a plan!"

He rubbed his face with an almost pained wince.

"It's not our keep. We can't plan where to meet them. They will come where they please. We need to remove as many people as we can out of town, but can't do it without Dijkstra and those local faces of authority they will listen to."

"Then we should start doing that now," she said, peering down at him. "Where can they even go?"

He cracked an eye open, peering at her with a reprimand. "Why should I know these things? Wherever they please. Just away from the city."

"'Cause you're the old one," she explained. "You're supposed to know these things that I do not."

Geralt slapped her thigh, grimacing. "I'm not that old, child. Go see about the breakfast and let me get my pants, if you will."

"You're ancient," Ciri argued, standing and heading out the door.

Downstairs, she found Dandelion, looking dead on his feet and with dark circles under his eyes. No doubt, the last few days had been stressful for him as well.

"Morning," she greeted gently.

He replied with a groan, chin in his hand on the bar counter and eyes close to falling shut.

Taking the hint, she moved on to the table where Yennefer had made herself comfortable.

Unlike the night before and the bitterness Yen and the poet had shared, today Dandelion appeared to be a bit more somber, as if the night before had taken its toll. And it had. He'd celebrated through the night once more.

"Thought any more about leaving?" Yennefer asked.

Unlike before and the defense he'd carried every time she brought it up, this time Dandelion appeared to think about it, to consider what she said for half a second.

"No, I'm not going anywhere without Geralt."

This was still a bad idea as far as Yennefer was concerned, but what else could be done? The sorceress shrugged, smiling at Ciri once she appeared and moved to join her table.

"Do you still have your draught left? How'd you sleep?"

"I could use some more after tomorrow. But last night was fine." No unwanted visits.

Ciri sat down beside her, pouring herself some water from a pitcher.

"After tonight," Yennefer began, scooping up eggs onto her fork. "Hopefully, that'll no longer be a problem at all."

"You're much more optimistic than me." Ciri stole a sausage off Yennefer's plate and nibbled it. "Part of me has started to believe it will never end."

"And if it doesn't?" Yennefer asked. "What will you do then?"

"I will have to move on to another world. Draw them away from this one. And when they find me, I will jump again. And then again. Like I've been doing."

"We'll do what we can to make sure that doesn't become a choice."

"As long as you, Geralt, and everyone else I care about stay safe. That is the most important."

"You should convince Dandelion to get out of town." Yennefer slipped more egg into her mouth, scooped up on the added bits with it and then fixed herself a piece of dry toast.

"To abandon his home? His pride and livelihood? I doubt we can get most of the people out there to leave," she gestured to the front door.

"Dandelion has no pride," Yennefer stated. "And if The Wild Hunt come upon his inn – he'll die. No livelihood to nurse. You also know that the troubadour being here will prove as a distraction to Geralt."

"Then Geralt should talk to him. He rarely listens to me anyway."

It took the Witcher a bit to push himself out of bed and down the stairs, but he eventually made it and sat down next to Ciri at their table, nodding at Yennefer in greeting.

Yennefer smiled softly, nibbling on her toast, gaze shifting between the two. "What's our plans for the day?"

"Shouldn't we make some sort of strategy for when The Hunt comes? Magic to protect the city?"

"We need the Lodge to come up with their strategy, and all we, the swordsmen, can do is fight them where they come." Geralt nodded his thanks to the maid that served him a plate of eggs and tomatoes, and dug in.

"You should speak to Triss," Yennefer offered between bites. "That'll speed things along so we know where we're supposed to be."

Ciri picked a tomato off Geralt's plate and ate it. "They better come through after all the trouble we went through."

"They will," Triss said, approaching. She smiled. "We shall hold council and decide on how we shall defend the city. When you're ready, come to the suite."

She went to the kitchen to see about the breakfast for the sorceresses. Geralt watched her go, chewing, and reached for his cup of mead.

"I'll go see if Kain is up," Ciri said, getting to her feet and going for the stairs.

Yennefer followed Ciri with her eyes and then lowered them to her plate to finish off her breakfast in peace before the arguing would commence.

* * *

Kain opened the door to her already dressed with his sword behind his back. There was a tray with an empty plate in his hands. "Had my meal earlier," he said, stepping out into the corridor. "You wanted to wake me?"

She smiled. "Not like I wanted to disturb your sleep but... we are meeting with the sorceresses to discuss what we can do to prepare with The Hunt. Assumed you would want to come."

"I guess I have to come," he said, heading down the stairs. "Is it right away?"

"I expect everyone wants to finish their breakfast first," Ciri said, following him.

Kain left the empty tray in the kitchen, and when he returned to the main room, Geralt was getting up from the table.

"We need to take a walk before the Lodge," he said, then looked between Yennefer and Ciri. "You, ladies, are also invited."

"As if you could stop us," Ciri smirked impishly, strolling for the door while the rest of them got ready.

Dandelion was retreating up the stairs when they left; the poet was yawning and muttering something about just a couple hours and no more.

Ciri inhaled deeply once outside, glad to be in the fresh air and to feel the sun on her face. Who knew how much longer she would have that luxury?

Yennefer linked arms with Ciri's. "We shouldn't keep them waiting too long, otherwise they'll get vindictive."

"Even if we manage to get some people out of town, we have no way of predicting where the Hunt chooses to appear," said the Witcher, looking at Kain.

"Only a few moments prior," Kain nodded. "Which is too late. Where do we want them?"

Geralt shrugged. "Tough question. Outside of the city walls could be it, but why would they want that? Their goal is to instill more fear - not to be considerate."

"If they come from outside as well as inside, we get more than we can handle," Kain said. "It would be nice to limit their choices."

"How's that?"

"Dimeritium disrupts their portals. So what if we spray some powdered dimeritium around the city to prevent them from opening their portals there?"

Geralt pondered. "It would require much more than we have."

"If Triss could get us more from Kovir or Poviss, we can try."

"Won't the wind carry the powder away?" Ciri asked, looking from Yennefer to Geralt. "Is there some kind of spell that can be cast on the soil itself to keep portals from opening? Or at the very least will damage those who come out of them?"

"Yrden does that," Geralt said. "But it fades quickly. I'm not sure if there is a way to lock it on the ground. Witcher signs are temporal."

"It's possible," Yennefer mused in favor of Ciri's question. "I could contain it, the same way I did in Kaer Morhen, and then use the bombs."

"Then we need more bombs," Kain said. "And someone who can sense their portals before they open fully." He turned to Ciri. "Can you?"

Ciri considered it. "I am not actually certain. I suppose I have always known just before they appear, but that might only be because I expected them to. Every time I jumped, I knew they would not be far behind."

"I believe you have a natural ability to sense magic, and especially their magic," Kain said. "If you learn to get into a trance, your ability will sharpen and you will be able to react immediately when you sense them. That would help limit their numbers. We cannot preventively spray dimeritium where we please because there are many non-humans living in the village around. We could harm them and their land. We'll have to localize the use of it to the portals.

"Same goes with the city itself - if the Lodge will be using their magic there, dimeritium will work not only on the Hunt's magic, but their own."

"Which calls for placing them strategically," Geralt said. "Somewhere higher than the portals. The roofs?"

Yennefer said, "Ciri getting into a trance is fair, she's the one with a direct link to Eredin, but how are we going to make it possible for her to know if she's doing it? Focus like that takes a lot and any little distraction will throw her off. One of you are going to have to stay close to her – protect her. Even if that isn't what she necessarily wants."

Ciri was quiet for a moment, trying to absorb everything that was being said. "I don't know how to induce anything like that. The trances I have experienced before were sudden and entirely without my control." She eyed Kain. "You know how to teach me?"

"She won't be able to maintain it for too long, but we don't need long," Kain said. "Merely to cut down the portals. I will help with that, but I can't jump through space like she does. I can deal with a certain territory, but she can do more by jumping to the location as soon as feels a gate opening." He looked at Ciri, "You already know how to connect to nature's power. It's that."

"How many times can you jump at once before you get worn down, Ciri?" Yennefer asked. "We can't afford to have you make yourself vulnerable."

"When it is on the same plane it does not tire me at all. And short distances are much easier."

Still, she felt nervous. Not by the thought of exhaustion, but of failure. What if she let them all down?

"Her power is our best bet to shut down as many portals as we can," Kain said.

"You mean outside of city?" Geralt asked.

Kain nodded. "Inside there will be the Lodge. If they don't know any blocking magic, I'll have to cover that territory myself. With Griffin."

"They know a lot of magic, but their focus is attack," Yennefer put in. "You should definitely make a point of staying with within range of Ciri as much as you can. On your griffin, in the air, I assume you'd have a better advantage to do that."

"Griffin cannot appear in different spots as quickly," Kain reasoned. "Ciri and I will have to take care of different territories to cover more ground."

"I will be fine," Ciri assured Yennefer. "If it is one thing I am good at, it is jumping."

"We can use those dimeritium bombs as a shortfall. You should both carry them on you in equal measure. We'll give everyone else one or two to pick up any slack there may be."

"We have a limited amount of bombs," Geralt said. "Each has to be put to use exactly where it's needed. We can't afford losing any. So Ciri and Kain get the most of them, and Zoltan with Dandelion will take care of the additional aid."

Ciri looked between them. "Shall we return to the inn? Get this sorceress business over with?"

Yennefer was beginning to feel better now that they finally had a plan in place and something that they could do if The Wild Hunt was to show up. "We'd better. They'll think we're scheming."

When they came back, Zoltan was the only one they found in the main room - he was finishing his meal.

"Merigold asked about ye," he said, jerking his fork in the stairs' direction. "Dandelion's snorin' and Priscilla's still asleep."

"We might need more bombs," Geralt said.

Zoltan scowled but nodded. "I'll do as much as I can, but it won't be a quick work as ye know."

"I'll help if we can find some more dimeritium," Ciri promised Zoltan on her way to the stairs.

She took the lead to the third floor and knocked on the sorceresses' door once they were there. Triss opened and smiled at them all, stepping aside to everyone could shuffle inside.

Margarita and Fringilla were both seated beside one another on the foot of a large bed. Philippa was leaning against the open doorway leading out to the balcony. She turned to regard Geralt, Yennefer, Kain, and Ciri. "About time."

"Have you been speaking amongst yourselves?" Triss asked once she'd closed the door behind them, purposely moving to join Philippa at the balcony door. They looked like a government trying to gauge the response of their subjects and any pitiable suggestions they might have to work with.

"We have," Yennefer added without trying to pretend. "Ciri will take care of closing the portals for as long as she possibly can to cut down their numbers, and Kain will maintain to pick up on whatever she missed, and anything else."

"What about the dimeritium?" Triss asked.

Yennefer glanced with Geralt's direction, leaving him to explain that battle-hardened function to the sorceresses more thoroughly.

"Zoltan has made a few crates of bombs," the Witcher said. "Each bomb can interrupt one of their portals, exploding in powder. Which means none of you mages should be around those places when it comes to that. You should place yourselves higher up to see more and react more effectively. Maybe on the roofs."

The enchantresses contemplated, exchanging glances and shrugs.

"I suppose it's not a bad idea," Philippa said. "The only thing is to determine the location for each to form the most effective figure."

"We shall settle it among ourselves," Fringilla said. "I suppose we are to do that within the city fences, is that right?"

"Right," Geralt confirmed. "Also, if there is any sorcery you know to attract their portals to certain places where we would be ready for them, it would help."

"Attract?" Margarita canted her head like a curious bird.

"Something to create a magical pull," Kain explained. "A pull strong enough to sway their wizard's navigational magic."

"We will have to see if we can, flip through some books, perhaps," Triss said, looking preoccupied.

"What do we do if they don't come when we expect them to?" Ciri asked, a question for the room. "If they come early? Catch us off guard? Does the plan still stand?"

"We do what we can if that happens," Kain said. "You, Ciri, might want to be on the lookout, tune into your finer senses and look for any changes. Geralt and I should visit Dijkstra now that the spell has ended. We need to make him arrange for the people who cannot fight to leave the city."

"He tried to kill you," Ciri reminded the witchers. "What makes you think he won't try something as stupid a second time?"

"Because it's too late to try anything now when the treaty is signed," Geralt said. "And with the Hunt attacking, he has no better option than to accept our help."

"Doesn't mean he won't be vengeful."

Ciri nodded. "At least if you expect it, you're likely to stop him should he try something." After everything that had happened the day before, she trusted Kain and Geralt's capabilities more than ever.

"We always expect it," the Witcher responded. "We'll be fine."

"Alright." Ciri looked to Fringilla. She seemed to be in a better state than last night. "Are you feeling better?"

The sorceress smiled and nodded. "I am. Thank you, Ciri. I promise we shall do our best to help defeat this scourge on our earth."

Ciri managed a small smile, just for her. "I appreciate it."

"We'll go with you," Yennefer mused, her attention directed to Kain and Geralt. "The sooner we have Dijkstra deal with the public, the sooner we'll know what we'll have at our disposal."

"No need," Geralt said. "Kain and I will go alone."

"I'll meet you there and help if needed," Philippa smiled.

Geralt sighed, but nodded. "Fine. Only if needed.

"Triss, you and Ciri will need to see of you can get us more dimeritium."

"Of course," Triss said. "I'll see what I can do."

"It will have to be brought to our basement here," the Witcher continued. "Zoltan will be waiting. Help him with the bombs, Ciri."

"I will," Ciri promised. "As soon as we get the dimeritium. Will you join us, Yennefer?"

"I can only take you through my portal," Triss said tentatively. "And only you can touch dimeritium crates to take them back here, it seems."

"Alright. I'll play the donkey," Ciri said with the hint of a teasing smile, imagining herself lugging crate after crate.

"I'll stick around, see if Zoltan could use an extra hand with his bombs," Yennefer suggested.

"You can't work with dimeritium, Yennefer," Kain said. "It will make you immediately sick, and you'll be useless for the battle."

"She's being her self-centered self," Philippa snorted. "Gods forbid something will be done without her destructive touch."

"There are other steps to those bombs than just dimeritium," Ciri pointed out. Mostly because she hated the way Philippa was talking about Yennefer. "We'll all find our use." She looked to Triss. "Shall we? Or do you need to prepare?"

Triss looked from Philippa to Geralt and finally settled on Ciri. "I am ready."

Yennefer didn't mind the guidance Kain offered, but she wasn't all that enthralled with Philippa. "Be safe," she said, directing a look at Ciri, and then at Geralt. "I assume we're done here?"

"You are not done here," Philippa responded. "Unless you wish to get out of the city or join the battle with a sword."

"We're going to plan our defense," Margarita said. "You should be with us here. The witchers should go and tend to their cause."

Yennefer had assumed that the Sorcerers would have their own meeting on that, and that she'd be left to her own devices.

She nodded lightly.

"Let's discuss," she added, assuming everyone else would be on their way.

Triss turned towards an empty corner of the room and waved her hand, a golden portal opening before them. Ciri threw one last look at her family, then stepped through. The redhead followed.

* * *

They emerged in a forest a second later, to sunshine and pleasant birdsong from the treetops.

"Where are we?" Ciri asked once the portal vanished and it was just she and Triss again.

"Kovir. Just outside Pont Vanis," Triss answered, gesturing for Ciri to fall into step beside her.

The tension that had been strong and unpleasant between the two yesterday, seemed to have vanished. At least for now.

"We are going to see an old friend of mine," Triss continued.

"A mage?"

"No. Though he is very knowledgeable on the subject of magic. Mateosh owns a few mines to the east of the island. He has dimeritium aplenty and should not deny us to purchase more. As long as it is readily available."

They moved out of the tree-line and followed a dusty road winding up towards what seemed to be a large settlement of houses and establishments.

"How do you know him?" Ciri asked.

Triss shrugged her shoulders. "We met when I was in service of King Foltest. Mateosh had run away from his familial responsibilities in order to seek his luck as a musician. He dreaded the thought of going into the family business – mining. Though in the end, his father managed to drag him back home. Which was just as well. It is hard to make a living as a bard and Mateosh was not very talented. But don't tell him I told you." She winked conspiratorially.

Ciri was silent for a while as they walked before she finally asked: "Were you lovers?"

Triss blushed and giggled. "Ciri! No, of course not. Though I suppose I would not have minded back then. I am afraid to say age has caught up with him. He used to be very handsome."

Ciri pondered that, too, wondering to herself if men no longer had any romantic value to women once they lost their looks. It certainly seemed to be the same the other way around but she had never considered men having to suffer that fate.

Silence stretched between the two again as they began up the hill for the settlement.

* * *

The eunuch who had been meeting all Dijkstra's guests in the bathhouse showed them to the library where Sigi was hunched over the maps and plans of the city scattered all over his desk heavily lit by candles flickering all over the study. Francis Bedlam was across the desk from him. They turned and straightened up when the witchers came in.

"Ah, there they are, the ones who dipped us in this shit," Sigismund smiled, but there was not a sliver of friendly demeanor in it.

Bedlam folded his arms and said nothing, studying the two closely.

"We came to discuss the evacuation of the civilians who can't fight," Geralt said. "Women, children, elders, cripples and so on."

"Well, not that I would object if the cripples decided to stay and club the elves with their crutches," Dijkstra chortled, but sobered when caught Bedlam's glower.

"Most of those cripples ensure you get your share of coins to put in that treasury of yours," the Prince of Thieves said. "Especially after you lost a significant part of it recently."

"Fine, fine, whatever," Sigi dismissed, wincing in annoyance, and bent over the maps once again. "That stupid cult of Eternal Fire – those are the ones we need to convince. They're still trying to undermine the work we've been doing on the citizens. They hate your guts for what you did – mostly Cirilla, that is – and yearn to get their paws on her to hand her over and thus save the people. Ambitious plan, I know, but the suckers are fanatics, all crazy as shithouse rats. They see no reason."

"My people are withdrawing since last night," Bedlam told Geralt. "It's a chain-like communication: those who know tell their relatives and friends who tell their friends and so on."

"How many would that be?" Geralt asked.

"About half the population at the least," Bedlam estimated and shrugged. "Not everyone wants to leave. And those who could fight refuse out of cowardice and leave along with women and children. You know how it gets."

The Witcher hemmed. "We can't force them. What we should do is talk to that… ehm… Eternal Fire."

Bedlam chuckled, "You can try, but then make it to the leaders ring."

"You know any names and where to find them?"

"Given you took care of Menge," Sigi said, rubbing his chin, "now it's Cyrus Engelkind Hemmelfart you should get to. Good luck with that." He sneered darkly.

"The Temple Isle itself will be hard to get to, especially after your Radovid stunt on the bridge," Bedlam said. "I can't help with anything, I must add – all my people withdrew from there by two days ago."

"Hmm." Geralt folded his arms, glancing between the two. "Are you saying that he is the sole person to facilitate the evacuation?"

"Not the only one, of course," Sigi said, sneering suggestively.

"I'll go see about my business," Bedlam said, nodded curtly in parting and went out the door.

"What does it mean, Dijkstra?" Geralt demanded as soon as Francis left.

The sneer slipped off Sigi like a badly manufactured carnival mask with its string snapping. "What the hell you think it means, you whoresons? What the fuck did you do to me? Think I don't know? Think I'm stupid? I'm used to Phil's tricks – mean, dirty and filthy – but you?" His small eyes full of rage flicked to stab into Kain. "You did this, fucker, didn't you?"

Kain folded his arms with a deadpan expression. "I've no idea what you're hinting on. We met in the theater yard and celebrated the treaty. Then we all left. You might've had too much wine and it played a bad joke with your blood pressure."

"Don't you fuck with me, little shit," Sigi squinted menacingly. "What did you do?"

"Saved your useless life," Philippa said, walking in, skirt shuffling. Sigi's eyes widened as he stared into hers regained. She smiled. "We've talked about this. Stop being difficult and do what must be done."

"Fuck you sideways, Phil. I told you already—"

"I believe you told me many things that sounded very differently when they were coherent enough to perceive," she sneered at the sight of his cheeks bulging in anger.

"Ah sod you all, fine!" he yelled. "If those two witcher shits manage to get through to that bald idiot with his cult – it's decided."

She smiled, "Good," and turned to the witchers, gesturing for the door. "Don't lose your time."

They left her with Sigi and removed themselves from the study. The eunuch followed their progress through the corridor with languid boredom, then returned his eyes to the book he was reading on the bench facing the door.

"I doubt he'd help much with the priest," Kain said when they were walking up the street and away from the bathhouse. It gave Geralt an idea. He looked at his brother with a small smile.

"I know who will. Come on."

* * *

Mateosh's home was one of the largest in the settlement from what Ciri could see and yet, like with Emhyr's palace, it felt cold and void of life. It was all the art and luxurious furniture, she decided. To be looked at but not touched. Never touched. A child's worst nightmare.

The servant who let Ciri and Triss in went to fetch her master, and they waited in the entryway. It did not take long before Mateosh joined them.

Triss was right; age had certainly caught up with him. It seemed strange that Triss had known him as a younger man, for as a stark contrast, her looks had not faded at all.

Mateosh was a tall man, though slightly hunched over now as though he had back problems. He had a glorious greying beard that made him look like a gnome, in Ciri's opinion.

His moustache twitched when he saw Triss, his lips curving in a smile.

"Back so soon?"

Triss displayed a friendly smile of her own and stepped forward to take Mateosh's hand. "Afraid so, darling. We seem to be in need of quite a bit more dimeritium."

"I see," Mateosh said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Strange thing - sorceresses buying dimeritium."

Triss laughed softly. "I told you when I was here last: we need it for protection. Not all mages are good."

"The Wild Hunt," Mateosh declared, making Ciri's eyes widen in surprise. He caught the look on both women's faces and chuckled. "Ah, rumors spread quickly here in the north. We've all heard what's happening in Novigrad. I'll have my man supply you with what you need."

An hour later, Triss and Ciri sat atop a horse drawn cart with one of Mateosh's employees, heading for the forest.

"Are you sure this is where you want 'em?" the man asked as he and Ciri unloaded the crates off the cart a little while later.

"This is perfect," Triss replied.

When the cart was empty and back on its way to the settlement, Triss opened her portal to the inn's cellar.

After they had brought the crates through, Triss quickly excused herself from the cellar and left, stating she didn't feel comfortable being around so much dimeritium. Ciri and Zoltan did not argue this.

Zoltan stood by a low workbench and Ciri sat, both of them filling premade hollow grenades with the powder they had purchased. It was tedious work, but necessary, and neither argued or complained as they worked.


	44. Chapter 44

Once the three sorceresses were alone, time stretched between them in silence, filled with indifference and the awkwardness that Yennefer soon buried.

"Are you up to strength?" Yennefer asked, aiming a look at Fringilla.

"Nothing another day won't fix," she replied honestly.

"We might not have even that," Yennefer commented, pushing away from the wall she'd been using as a prop, moving to stand before the two women still seated.

"I'll do my part," Fringilla assured, sticking her nose to the air as she looked up at the woman in black, moving to stand so that Yennefer wouldn't tower over her.

There had been a time they'd squared off before, and Yennefer had lost.

At least the use of her eyes – temporarily.

Yennefer didn't appear to be holding a grudge.

"If you could cast replications of Ciri throughout the town as needed once the battle starts, make Eredin and his mages think they see her in more than one place, all the better to keep him distracted and them from guessing where she is as she closes the portals."

"Wouldn't he be able to tell that her energy trail would be different?"

"Perhaps," Yennefer mused. "But it'll take effort and time, and provide us with enough of a distraction for someone—anyone – to get close."

Preferably Geralt or even Ciri herself. Yennefer wasn't insensible to think that she'd be any good up close or that any of her usual tricks would work. Eredin would be prepared for that, it's the numbers and the hits that were going to weaken him.

"We should scout Novigrad and make note of what roofs might support us best. We'd have to spread out evenly," Margarita chimed.

Yennefer nodded. "The tower might give you the best advantage," she mused

Fringilla nodded. They fell silent once more, not needing much room to discuss too much and then trailed Yennefer out of the room, grabbing their cloaks on the way.

"What if we focus all our energy in one place? Cut the city in half," Margarita provided as they walked.

"Would be ideal. There's no way to protect those stubborn enough to stay."

Fringilla snorted. "Then they should take up arms with us."

"They'd rather hogtie and hand us over to The Wild Hunt," Yennefer added.

"But it's for their survival," Fringilla added as though other sorceresses were looking to debate the issue.

"And since when do they care about that? It's easier to wave their white flag and hand us over for the slaughter to save on bloodshed. They're not wrong."

Margarita hemmed agreement and then stopped walking, spying of the fanatical priests on the other side of the small gap that separated the town. There were too many crowds for them to take notice or even care that people were watching.

There was nothing more they could do. They could see, though, could note the structures and where they could possibly stand for equal coverage.

"We should get back," Fringilla added after a short while.

Yennefer nodded, and the three started back toward the Inn.

* * *

"I told you, Geralt, I can't help you." Bedlam stared at the Witcher, his arms folding. "The Isle is closed off, the darn cultists don't allow anyone in. The Hierarch has the power over the city, and his guards and hunters are working overtime to provide his arse a cover. There's nothing even two witchers can do about that many guardians."

"Where would he be, exactly?" Kain asked. "Do you know?"

Francis thought about it a second. "The tower of the Temple comes to mind. He has his residence, of course, but he might consider the Temple safer. If he's scared of you pulling the Radovid crap on him, he'd try to scramble as high up as a rat on a sinking ship would."

"What are the odds of him being in his actual residence?" Geralt asked.

"Slimmer than the Temple, but worth checking out since there's two of you. What do you want to do?"

"Convince him to listen and mobilize people to leave safely," Geralt said. "He is the only power figure left in the city, and he can't hole himself up and do nothing."

"Well," Francis shrugged, smiling slightly, "what then?"

"We need both you and Sigi to cooperate with him and see who can fight and who has to leave."

Bedlam sighed, almost rolling his eyes. "Too little time left, Geralt.

"I know, but we have to do it."

"Fine. If you can make it within an hour. All I can promise. Nothing more."

* * *

There were significantly more guards than priests on the streets of the Temple Isle, as the Witchers found out when they got a peek in. They had circled the island beneath the fences, climbing the rocks to get over a low fence and get into one of the lower blocks two streets short of the Electors' Square.

They parted there, heading each to his destination.

Geralt had to knock out a guard and borrow his armor to gain a free passage to the Hierarch's rich residence hiding behind a tall fence of thick stone lusciously carpeted with decorative ivy. When a guard noticed him, Geralt discovered that Axii was not very effective on people who used dimeritium trinkets as religiously as the Temple Guard.

After the Witcher had covered up a couple of his failed Axii actions that turned a bit more violently than he had wished, he found the residence of the Hierarch to be rather lively with servants, maids, priests and quite a few Witch Hunters. The residence was a rather large house, though quite short of a palace. Geralt suspected it was due to placating the people of Novigrad loyal to the cult with an illusion of a more humble lifestyle than it truly was.

The Witcher crept through the first floor and came across a snoring priest. The roulades the man's nose and throat were conjuring amazed Geralt who had always thought he'd heard worst. Donning a priest's cloak was the easiest path to stop creeping through the corridors and begin to stroll and actually take better purchase of what was going on inside the house.

It was obvious there was some kind of a feast going on; a party for those who were waiting for the doom's day to fall upon them any moment, and while waiting very carefully for that proverbial shoe to drop, the cultists were getting ridiculously drunk and thoroughly distracted by the best food and concubines their status allowed.

There were two significantly large and tall halls in the house, decorated with the most beautiful pieces of art and frescos and statues one could find in the whole North. The tables were long and cracking beneath the plates and bowls of the best pork, pheasants, grilled ribs, exotic fruits and vegetables and seafood any could find in the whole world. Same went for wines, liquors and desserts. As well as women and boys.

So much for banning magic, Geralt thought, making his slow way for the Hierarch's chambers. He imagined it must have took not more than five minutes to export all things (and beings) needed for that World's End's feast when it came to exception to the rule banning sorcery.

The Hierarch was indecent. Along with him, there were two indecent girls sprawled on the blood-red velvet covers among the puffy pillows on the widest bed Geralt had ever seen. The Hierarch was also dozing and snoring rather indecently. The air was stuffy and heavy with alcohol. A few carafes and three silver cups encrusted with gold and jewels lay on the carpets around the bed.

Geralt grunted with weary disgust and decided not to make it longer than it had to be.

* * *

Kain jogged up the stairs, one set, then another, went through the doors that led to more passages that led to other sets of stairs. The stonewall around the Temple was tall and thick, but at least there were very few guards that decided to spend their time watching the streets below from the narrow corridors covered by roofs from the rains and fenced with a railing to not have the brave soldiers topple out from their posts. The majority of the Temple Guard was on the streets, strolling, laughing, bickering, arguing, telling jokes and sleazy stories, and drinking, drinking, drinking. Unlike the very sober and angry and rather scared warriors (both guards and witch hunters) Kain had passed by on the St. Gregory's Bridge where they had been guarding the most obvious passage to the Temple Isle, all the guards located within the Isle limits had taken too many liberties with their service.

The final wooden door opened, letting him into yet another narrow passage with a railing running along it, but the view was the spectacular square in front of the majestic Great Temple of the Eternal Fire. It towered over the square like a giant mother watching over its children. In the middle of the square there was a huge burning shrine. Around it were priests, no less than a few dozens. All were praying on their knees, periodically bowing forward to touch the ground with their foreheads, then rising again to pray with their hands raised to the shrine with palms up. Their voices created a low murmur, like a buzzing of a hive, but it presented a better picture than what Kain had seen outside with the guards and hunters. He couldn't spot a single one of either among the praying priests.

"… Red Flame which Burneth Brightly, spare us from Suffering…"

"…O Fire Which Turneth All to ash, incinerate the hearts of our Foes…"

"… Fire Most Holy, drive all Monstrosities from us…"

"… Heating Fire, guide us while we yet Live…"

"… O Purest Fire, heal our Hearts…"

Like an evening breeze, Kain passed in his trance, taking a wide circle around the praying mass on his way to the side of the Temple. The sun was blazing in its zenith like the Fire they were all praying to.

The Guards standing straight as needles didn't notice his quiet step and stood, sweating and suffering in their armor sets like mini ovens contemplating the trials of their service and lives. Perhaps some of them wished for the cold to come with the mysterious Wild Hunt, though, Kain was certain, it wouldn't be a serious thought. Even the bravest were fearing the unknown. No people in the Temple Square were exception.

Someone new to the city of Novigrad and the Great Temple of the Eternal Fire would be surprised by the architectural quirks of the colossal tower. A wide beautiful passage was leading toward the Temple directly from the Shrine to another smaller one that was all but a huge brazier burning between the tall white columns. Behind it, however – right where everyone expects to see a tall arch of beautifully decorated gates leading into a temple of divine magnificence – there was nothing but a wall. As if the temple wasn't meant to be visited by mere mortals and was a secret in itself, a puzzle that would obey the most cunning of minds or most successful heroes. One would definitely think, staring up at that wall where the doors were supposed to be, that there had to be a catch, a trick, a magical illusion, or at the very least some kind of a mechanism to gain entrance into the House of Divine.

Kain went past the stupefying wall, past the sweating guards, around the corner, and descended the small set of stairs barely noticeable from the square, which led to a very timid, humble wooden door that was enforced with metal and locked.

Neither means of security stopped Kain from slipping in.

A small, narrow corridor with the ceiling so low it made you feel claustrophobic, was lit with small candelabras and turned around the corner, leading for a bit until another turn revealed a wider set of stairs covered with blood-red velvet carpet embroidered with gold and silver. Kain ascended with a bit of reverence in his cat-feet step.

The inside of the Great Temple was indeed of some divine magnificence a place of divine power deserved. The ceiling was so high it made you feel like the smallest of ants. The columns rose like trees in the gods' orchard, and the frescos around the ceilings, on the columns' shafts and the walls unmarred by windows were of unprecedented mastery. Kain grazed one with his fingers and images of people creating them over the years flashed in his inner eye; how they were led here blindfolded and under the highest secrecy and how some of them tried to peek their way and were discarded for it like they had never existed, and so their co-creators never tried. Curiosity did kill.

The braziers sat among the columns shining orange glow onto the passages creating an atmosphere of being submerged in the kingdom of fire. As if here was another plane of existence, like an underwater world, but water was fire, and it flickered and flashed and crackled and glowered all over the surfaces and curves and left almost naught to shadows of darkness.

At the farthest end from the stairs, and at what seemed to be the head of the divine hall, was a throne of gold and red velvet. Around it were smaller chairs of twelve, six on each side, forming a circle around a huge brazier filled with flames. Like knights of The Round Table from some distant legend, the higher priests sat there with a lively discussion of what they knew about the Hunt and what each believed had to be done. There was wine and there was food, and it seemed they had been at it for quite some time. The Throne was empty. The guards were scattered around in the close proximity but keeping their polite distance.

Kain slipped past the Council and toward a small doorway in the back. He believed it led to the tower and thus the Hierarch's working chambers. Judging by the doubled amount of guarding officers distributed on the stairs, the Hierarch was there.

* * *

"Are ye scared about The Hunt comin' here, lass?" Zoltan asked after they had worked in silence for a while.

Ciri didn't take her eyes off the grenade she was currently busy with, but nodded. "Yes. People are going to get hurt. That always scares me."

"Ye know we will do our best to keep them from hurtin' ye. I'd like to see the elf bastards try and get past Geralt and Kain!" He flashed her a wink, his beard twitching.

"It is not me I worry about. It is everyone else. The death of a loved one hurts more than any wound anyway. And that pain never ends."

Zoltan grunted in agreement. "It's a risk we have to take, lassie. There isn't another choice."

"I know. At least the fear is better than arrogance. It will not make me complacent. I will do my very best. I will not be selfish."

Zoltan paused what he was doing and peered up at her, eyes slightly narrowed in contemplation. "Ye think it was selfish of ye to leave the keep at Kaer Morhen when ye'd been told to stay inside? Is that what worries ye?"

Ciri shrugged. "I think if I had not left, Eskel would not be alive. But Vesemir might be."

"It's impossible to know what might have happened, Ciri," he said, uncharacteristically soft. "Try not to think like that. There will always be losses on both sides in a battle. We can't prevent that. And in the end, ye saved us all."

"And almost killed you," she pointed out.

Zoltan grinned. "That too. But listen to me, lassie: everyone of us here are willin' to die for this cause. Just as ye are. Savin' the world isn't supposed to come easy." He handed her another empty grenade for her to fill. "But it helps knowin' we're on the side of good."

Ciri reached for the dimeritium and began her work again. They fell into silence.

Were they on the side of good, though, she wondered. That all depended on perspective. To the humans, certainly. But to the Aen Elle, those doomed to lose their world and lives… They were the bad guys.

* * *

Yennefer and the two other women entered the Inn again, ridding themselves of their cloaks at the door to make it easier to move around later. Fringilla excused herself, claiming she needed more rest, and headed upstairs, Margarita stayed with Yennefer.

"Some mead?" Yennefer asked, walking toward the counter that held the bottles.

Margarita nodded and took a seat at one of the open tables. The place wasn't busy. Dandelion must finally have decided to keep the doors closed while they worked.

Yennefer poured each of them some mead and moved to join her at the table.

"You ever been up against The Wild Hunt?"

Margarita shook her head. "I've heard all the rumors."

"They're all true," Yennefer added, sipping at her mug slowly.

"Worse than what I've endured with Radovid?"

Yennefer thought about her question and then lightly shook her head. Margarita had lost her students every day, each tortured and burned, while she'd had to listen to their screams from her prison. The Wild Hunt would hardly give them that chance. Margarita exhaled softly, a sound akin to relief, and took a sip of her own drink.

"Doesn't mean it's going to be any easier," Yennefer mused, setting her mug down in front of her, her hands cupped around it.

"I don't imagine anything in this life from this point on will be."

The two women smiled slightly at one another, never really having regarded each other as the enemy, and then fell into an almost comfortable silence.

* * *

Geralt dragged the drunk Hierarch off the bed, his limp body thumped against the floor making him moan and wake up – rather reluctantly. The two concubines barely stirred. It took some shaking and slapping the man's cheeks (promising to become two perfectly respectable jowls in the near future) before he pried his eyes open and they widened slowly in growing terror when locked with Geralt's. He tried to scream, but the Witcher's hand tightening on his throat prevented that. Geralt's face was very close, the Hierarch's back was pressed into the wall, and it was cold against his naked skin. His own hands grasped and clawed at Geralt's wrist but futilely. He stared and stared into the eyes of the Witcher and their subtle glow in the semi-dark of the room frightened him to the core. Took him back to scary stories his gran used to tell. She's been thirty years cold and dead, but the primordial fright her stories had instilled had lingered in his heart and waited for just this moment to jump out at him screeching, You knew They'd get you! You always knew They would!

"Now listen to me, you lazy whoreson," Geralt said in a quiet but threatening tone. "You'll get dressed, sober up, then go out to your people and tell them what is coming. You do know what is coming, don't you? A horde of the Wild Hunt, the knights in black armor with deadly frost following their mounts. They'll come and want to murder everyone who won't be ready. Do you follow this far?" He shook the priest a bit like a bloodhound a caught hare.

The priest gaped and gasped for air, his eyes wide and crazy, but he found it in himself to jerk his bald head in a nod and hit the back of it in frightened zeal.

"Good," Geralt displayed a scary smile. "You will come out to your people and speak to them, comfort them by saying that they should take their children and elders and leave the city until this battle is over and the Hunt is gone."

The priest was shaking like a leaf, his flaccid cock dancing between the jiggling thighs; a hot trickle ran down one of them; the man grunted, his face distorting to weep.

Geralt smelled urine and grimaced, stepping back from the man with his hand still wrapped around the priest's neck.

"What the devil is wrong with you?" the Witcher demanded, disgusted, and loosened his grip.

The man gasped and grunted and whimpered, shaking. "I… I'm… not… I… no… please… please, I—"

Geralt yanked him again like a dog its prey; the priest blinked, eyes widening. "You what?" Geralt asked.

"I'm… ah… eh… not… what you… I'm not. I can't… Please… Please…" His face scrunched up, he shook with weeping.

Geralt analyzed it, staring at the man with narrowed eyes. "What's your name?"

"Kat— Katrell," the man whimpered.

"You're not the Hierarch?"

The man shook his head a no, and a tiny spark of hope dawned in his eye.

"Where's the real one?"

"I don— dunno… I… I had to stay 'ere… I… dunno… please…"

Geralt growled in frustration, withdrawing his hand. The man slipped onto the floor and wept. The women woke up and were sitting quietly as mice drawing covers to their chins in stupid hope of staying unnoticed. Geralt cared none for them. He was done with this palace.

No one kept the original in the same place with a decoy.

"Any of you utter a sound, I'll come back and kill you all, you understand?"

Everybody did.

The Witcher pulled on his robe's hood and went out of the stinky bedroom.

No one uttered a sound while he hurried away.

* * *

It took about an hour until the two guards finished their silly argument over whose wife was smarter and decided to take a stroll away from the door. Not too far, of course, but far enough for Kain to slip past them to it like a shadow and quietly open the lock. It clicked softly, and Kain snuck inside in one fluid motion of a cat. He closed the door and flicked his wrist to lock it behind him, then threw his hand forth, fingers twitching as if tightening around something invisible.

Something invisible was the Hierarch's neck. It was a big neck, but not as thick as it promised to become in the future by the looks of it. Kain caught the man in his power's grip when the latter opened his mouth to shout. Not a sound but faint wheezing escaped the Hierarch. He felt as if his body was shifting back by some force he didn't see. He felt the wall behind him, felt the cold of the fresco against the back of his bald head. He was clawing at his throat frantically, but there was nothing to pry from it, and yet the air was in a very shy supply.

Kain glanced around briefly, his eyes skimming over the tall bookshelves, the luxurious chairs, the dark-wood desk decorated with carved tongues of fire and impassive faces peeking from them. There was a carved-wood rose in the back of the chair the Hierarch had jumped from when he entered: it was engulfed in flames and painted red.

Approaching slowly, Kain loosened the man's throat the tiniest bit to let more air in.

"I'm not here to kill you," he said, stopping at the desk. He didn't need to step around it and smell the man from closer up to know the latter had been drinking and indulging in meaty meals with garlic and cream sauce.

"B… but… you can't…" the man struggled, the fright didn't evaporate from his eyes, but there was also anger. Rage, even, at the sight of something that couldn't possibly be. And yet it was. Kain saw the man's hand tap and claw around his tunic in search of something.

"Dimeritium can't help you," he said. "I'm not a wizard."

"Wha— what—"

"A witcher." Kain pondered, and released the Hierarch. The man coughed, gulping the air, rubbing his throat as he glared at his opponent.

"How the hell is this possible?" he wheezed.

"An unpredictable side-effect of mutation. You are Cyrus?"

The man tried to straighten up, angry and defiant. "Yes, I am Cyrus Engelkind Hemmelfart, the Hierarch of this city, and I shall have you burnt at the stake for this."

"Don't be so certain it will work like you plan. We witchers like fire, it helps in our work. I didn't come to harm you. Unless you make me."

"Why did you come?" Cyrus spat, rubbing his throat furiously as if to rid himself of the sensation.

"The Wild Hunt is coming. There is something you have to do."

The Hierarch chortled and spat on the floor. "What makes you think I will?"

"It benefits your image more than cowering in a tower like a princess in distress. What you're doing now, aren't you?"

"It's a matter of security. What a tramp like you could underst—" His eyes widened once again with a ghost of fear as his windpipe shrank to a size of a needle once again. His fingers scratched at his neck once more.

"It matters not what I understand or not. It matters solely what _you_ understand. You hear me?"

Cyrus glared, but nodded.

"Will you do what I ask, or should we start this city's story anew with another one to take your throne? No one will hear you in time. No one will save you. Do you understand that?"

Glaring, he nodded.

"Shall we have a lasting understanding, then?"

Glared and nodded.

"Good." He released the hold, and when the Hierarch stopped gasping, Kain propped his hands on the desk, leaning over it, and told him what he had to do.

The Hierarch of Novigrad rubbed his red, scratched throat, glowered, and listened.

* * *

Ciri emerged from the cellar a few hours later, covered in dust and grime from her activities. She found Yennefer and Margarita upstairs in the bar, sipping from tankards of mead.

"Hey," she said, pushing some loose strands of hair from her face. "Have you plotted?"

"We have established a certain plan of action, yes," Margarita smiled. "You look like a miner."

She wiped a hand across her brow. "Yes. I foresee another bath in my near future."

"You've finished the bombs, then?" Yennefer asked. "Do you estimate we have enough?"

"That all depends on The Hunt's numbers. If it is the group that usually chases me, we have more than enough. If it is an entire army like at Kaer Morhen..." Ciri's voice drifted off.

The sorceresses pondered, sipping their drinks.

"Do you believe it could it be the latter?" Yennefer asked her. "That they are ready to send their whole army once again?"

"Ready, certainly. But I don't know if they think it necessary," Ciri said, moving to find herself something to drink. "They might be expecting us to fight back. Or they might be expecting us to run and hide. It's impossible to know which."

"They're expecting you exactly where you are."

The door slowly swung closed as Avallac'h strolled toward the bar counter.

"Therefore this city shall not be the only place they might attack. They're doing exactly what we tried to prevent when we set the battle at the keep. This time it's their choice of grounds and they will try to make the best of it."

"Avallac'h!" Ciri exclaimed in surprise. She felt a warm rush of relief wash over her at his presence. If things got out of hand this time, he would stop her. She moved towards him, brow slightly furrowed. "What do you mean? Other cities?"

Avallac'h nodded curtly. "Other cities might get attacked. Even if your friends managed to convince people of Novigrad to fight the Hunt rather than give them what they want, other victims might not be so lenient."

"How do you know this?" she asked, though held up a hand a moment later. He always knew. Knew things others did not. Sage. "What can we do?"

"Hard to predict where they could land, however, they navigate best to places of our people's ancestry. Places spelled in a certain way that makes it easier to navigate to them."

"The Towers?"

Avallac'h shook his head in thought. "Too far from here. It should be something closer. Like Oxenfurt that is built on elven ruins."

"Then we need to warn them. Get the word out, so people will know to prepare themselves."

"There's barely any time for that," Zoltan said from behind Ciri, wiping his hands on a dirty rug. "And I bet my life they won't be happy to fight for some lass no one ever saw."

"It's not about them fighting, it's about them not being slaughtered in the streets," Ciri said, turning to look at the dwarf over her shoulder. "They deserve to be warned."

"The majority of people there are students, lectors and scholars," Margarita said. "I don't believe they can put up any fight without the Redanian army."

"Then it's Dijkstra who should lead the soldiers there," Yennefer said. "He won't be happy about it."

"Is he ever happy about anything?" Ciri muttered under her breath before looking to Yennefer. "Have you heard anything from Geralt and Kain?"

"Not yet, but there is still time," Yennefer said. "I'm sure they will be back soon enough."

"Let me know?" she requested, heading for the stairs. "I will go wash up in the meantime."

* * *

The witchers returned when the sun began to decline and more people added to the line of those leaving.

Dandelion wasn't up yet, but there was Avallac'h sitting at a window. He turned and nodded in greeting. So did Margarita and Fringilla at the bar.

"Well, the more the merrier," Geralt commented, picking a bottle with cups, and joined the elf at the table. "Where is Ciri?"

"Needed a bath," Fringilla said.

Kain settled next to Geralt with a weary sigh. The day felt long and exhausting.

"It surprises me you haven't notified me of the upcoming battle," Avallac'h remarked.

Geralt shrugged. "We had a lot to do on short notice. We had no time to fetch you."

"That is not true," the elf said. "But it's not what I came to say."

He propped his elbows on the table and told them about the possible plans of the Hunt.

Yennefer had made use of the chamber pot in the inn, returning to find that Geralt and Kain had arrived back. Neither looked hurt. A good sign.

She joined them at the table.

"How did it go with Dijkstra? Was he more amenable after Kain's puppeteering?"

"I thought Philippa told you all about it," Geralt cast an amused gander at her. "She visited and provided her valuable arguments to aid our cause."

"No, she also hasn't been back." As far as Yennefer was aware. Unless Philippa was upstairs sleeping or plotting her next reprisal. Yennefer glanced at the other sorceresses and saw at least one shrug. "You're in one piece. I assume she was of some help then?"

"We would probably be in one piece either way, but she did well." Geralt refilled his cup and sipped. "Avallac'h says the Hunt could attack Oxenfurt. We need to send someone they will believe. Dandelion studied at their Academy. They know him."

"Someone will have to go with him," Kain added. "With at least one crate of bombs."

"Triss," Yennefer offered in suggestion. "She's decent with delegation, and I assume you trust her enough to get him there."

"It's not just about getting him there. The city has to be protected, as well."

"What are you thinking?" Yennefer had figured that he must have had some kind of idea in his head. He wouldn't have brought it up otherwise or shot down Triss as standby.

The Witcher looked at her wearily. "I just learned about it. I wasn't ready for these complications, Yennefer. I'm not thinking anything besides the need to send a half of our forces there."

"We have to go back to Dijkstra," Kain added. "He's the head of Redanian forces now, and Oxenfurt is their city."

Geralt heaved a sigh and downed his drink.

"Want me to come?" Ciri asked Kain as she returned downstairs, hair loose and still damp from her bath. Geralt looked too tired to even entertain the idea of returning to Dijkstra.

"We should probably convince the Hierarch and Dijkstra to divide their forces," Kain said.

Geralt nodded, "Yes, sounds reasonable. We should go back to them."

"Zireael has to remain hidden from the Riders," Avallac'h piped in. "What they're doing is a provocation. They want her to view everything they do as her fault. They want her to blame herself and give herself over to them in return for people's safety."

"That's not happening," Geralt said getting up.

"No, that is not happening," Ciri repeated. "Neither the staying hidden for this battle or giving myself over."

"You cannot afford to take part in battle, Zireael," Avallac'h insisted. "Did the incident at the keep teach you nothing?"

"It might not happen again," Kain said.

Avallac'h shot him an impassive look. "This is not a secluded keep. If she loses her control again, more people will die."

"And if I don't, the results will still be the same," she argued. "I am going to close those portals. As many as I can. And no one gets to tell me otherwise."

"Don't let Eredin see you," Avallac'h said. "Make sure he can't touch you. If he gets you, we have lost everything. Do you understand what you are risking? It is not just your life alone - it is your world and your family."

"She understands," Yennefer added, rising to her feet as well, fixing a glare on the elf who'd made it his mission to try and warp guilt around Ciri. "Ciri knows what she is risking, and what is at risk if we do anything senseless – we all do. Unfortunately, she's powerful, we need her help as much as we need yours."

"If she does not heed to my words, I cannot promise that my aid shall be effective," the elf said.

"That's something none of us can promise presently. Which is why we're trying to come up with a strategy and method that works for all of us."

"I'll stay out of his sight if I am able," Ciri promised. "I have no intention of taunting him if that is why you are worried."

While the discussion went on, the witchers left the inn and took their horses to make their way faster

The streets were free of civilians, only the soldiers, guards and witch hunters patrolled to make sure everything was as planned.

"He won't forget how we stole the North from him," Kain said.

"I don't doubt that for a second. He won't be willing to lose Oxenfurt, however."

"We can't guarantee he won't."

"We can't guarantee anything. I wish I knew how to finish it once and for all. How and where to end it."

"If they will win this," Kain looked at him grimly, "it will become their favorite strategy - attacking where and when they want until the whole continent hunts Ciri for them."

"We'll stop them before it happens," Geralt said, his jaw set, the muscles in his cheeks bulging. "Once and for all."

"It will be harder than you think. We need more than what we have now. More allies and a better place to do it."

* * *

Yennefer realized that Geralt and Kain had slipped out when they were talking and furrowed her eyebrows with annoyance.

"I need some fresh air." She cast a glance at Ciri. "Coming?"

Ciri nodded, sensing this was a demand for privacy rather than Yennefer actually needing some air.

She stopped at Avallac'h's table on her way to the door, one hand touching his. "It was good of you to come. Thank you."

The elf gave an almost imperceptible twitch of his lips and slowly inclined his head.

Ciri followed Yennefer outside.

As soon as the door closed behind them, she smiled softly, averting her gaze to the sky. "Are you feeling better about things?"

Ciri blinked, uncertain. "Things?"

"The battle." Yennefer knew Ciri had to be scared or at least worried. "Feeling better now that our plans are getting more assembly?"

"I feel better knowing the majority of you don't want to lock me up," she offered.

"You were worried that we would?"

"Of course. You demanded I stay inside last time."

"That's because we thought it was the best move. That we had to listen to Avallac'h since he'd been with you all that time, and because we didn't quite understand. He isn't entirely wrong, either. Did you summon him?"

"No," Ciri laughed softly. "I would not know how. He came because he knew what was going on. He simply... knows."

"No one simply knows," Yennefer stated. "Least of all someone like that. Has he gifted you anything over the years you were together?"

"Other than protection and company?" She shrugged. "No."

Didn't seem possible to Yen. Avallac'h had to have spelled something on Ciri, something he knew she'd wear regularly and he'd be able to use to find her. Unless he used the same kind of power Eredin did and followed her distinct magical energy. When all of this was over, Yennefer would make a point of asking.

"You two seemed to have been arguing a lot before he disappeared for a bit. You feel better for having him around again?"

"I think we need all the help we can get. And Avallac'h can be a strong ally." Ciri had seen him fight before – mostly with magic – and he was quite adept. There was a reason Caranthir had become so powerful: Avallac'h had raised him. "But he is quite firm in his expectations of me. Some I no longer agree with. It is natural we will argue."

"Did you two argue as much when you were alone?"

"No. It was different then, of course. We knew we couldn't stay and fight, just the two of us. It was always a run and flee scenario. We were both in agreement about that. That's not to say he hadn't noticed I was stubborn. He knew that from the first day we met. It did not bother him as much back then. I think because he truly believed he would get what he wanted in the end. But now that I am back with you and Geralt, he worries. No matter how much he wants it, I think he is starting to realize I don't belong to the Aen Elle. Not in the way he wants. I have too many ties elsewhere."

"And that's what he wants? For you to remain with the Aen Elle? With him?" Yennefer hadn't even bothered to try to read the elf's mind and nor would she. She knew he'd probably be prepared, and probably had power with which to block it without even trying. "I thought you two didn't have any romantic likings."

"There's no romance!" Ciri thought it important to make this very clear. "But I don't think he would simply give up on me after The Hunt is defeated. Every elf I meet make their mantra very clear. You belong to the Aen Elle." She shrugged. "These are only speculations, of course. I cannot be certain."

"Sometimes it's best to trust your instincts."

The same way Yennefer knew that if distance remained between her and Geralt, that she'd lose him for good. Geralt wasn't without women willing to keep him company – or he them. Yennefer linked arms with Ciri, and they strolled together around the inn to vent their heavy heads and gloomy thoughts.


	45. Chapter 45

When the witchers returned another hour later, Dandelion had already woken up and learned about Oxenfurt and the possible threats. He decided to contribute and ride there with Kain. They set out immediately, and Geralt joined Avallac'h once again at the table at the window.

Geralt rubbed his neck tiredly, sighing.

"Is there any way to know when they attack?"

Avallac'h shook his head. "Highly unlikely. I am surprised they haven't already and a day or two ago to catch you off guard."

"They still might," Geralt said. "While we cannot predict which place they pick. How do they navigate?"

"By the magic lines and impulses that guide them. It's either following Zireael's trail or something else they can sense - like the remaining elvish magic of the ruins Oxenfurt is built on."

"Elven ruins are scattered all over the continent," Geralt said. "They could come from anywhere."

"True. They might be in your world already. Riding on and leaving frosted trail behind them."

"That is an alarming thought."

"The situation is grave enough. We have to see it for what it is."

"We do, Sage. We do."

When Ciri and Yennefer returned inside, Ciri excused herself to her room. And immediately snuck out again.

An hour later, back at the inn and descending the stairs to where Geralt and Avallac'h were sitting, she had a new vial with three tiny crystals pressed against her breast, hidden beneath her clothes. Poison. Quick but painful, the woman who had sold Ciri the substance told her. Ciri did not mind. She had never imagined her death would be painless.

Avallac'h had gotten to her with his words. It is not just her life alone - it is her world and her family.

She knew. Of course, she knew. But having it pointed out to her so blatantly had shot an icy ball of fear right through her.

Now, she was calmer. If Eredin did catch her, if he took her away and there was no more hope, she would end it all. It was a precaution. But one she knew Geralt and the others would not appreciate.

She approached the two after casting a quick glance around the room. She could already sense that Kain was no longer here.

"Where is he?" she asked Geralt.

Geralt and Avallac'h both frowned when Ciri approached. There was something about her both men sensed as alarming, though the elf perceived more than the Witcher did.

"He went to Oxenfurt with Dandelion, they rode out about thirty minutes ago. Why?"

"Oh." She felt a slight relief at that. "I sensed he was not here. Worried something might have happened."

Ciri shrugged and headed for the bar to find herself a drink.

"Are you sure you can sense the portals to block them?" Geralt asked, joining her at the counter. "Kain had no time to train with you. Do you know how it's done or you need him to tell you? Then you better catch up. There will be no other time."

"The Hunt's energy might be different," Yennefer said, approaching them from the stairs, "but Geralt's right—it's probably something you need to practice a little. In essence all magic is the same."

"There is not truly a way to practice," Ciri said, sipping from her tankard. "I can feel the sorceresses' portals open when I am close by. But I think The Hunt's magic is different. Kain has taught me how to connect to nature. She will aid me."

"Hopefully," the Witcher said. He was studying her for a bit. "Are you all right, Ciri?"

Ciri met his gaze, wondering what made him ask. "I am. Are you?"

"You look different, more preoccupied," he said. "Like something is gnawing at you beyond the usual worry. What is it?"

She smiled a little. "We are going to battle. The same kind of battle that killed two people I loved. Of course my mind is preoccupied. Isn't yours? Aren't you frightened of losing the ones you love?"

The Witcher smiled sadly. "What would it change if I were mourning losses before they happened? It would only damage my will to fight to prevent it. It would mess with my mind and put focuses where I don't need them, which would damage my fight. I can't afford such risks."

"For me it has the opposite effect. It gives me the will to fight. To not give up." She drank once more. "But it doesn't make it any simpler."

Geralt cast a gander at Yennefer standing by, as if assessing her opinion and whether she would want to put any word in.

"I guess it's not supposed to be simple, Ciri. No battle ever is. No kill ever is. It's not supposed to be."

"I know," she replied. "But I am fine. All things considering, I am fine." She smiled, prodding his chest with a gentle finger. "That's your one a day. Remember? One 'are you alright' a day."

Geralt winced in mock annoyance and tried to swat away her finger. "No way. I'm sure I'm allowed as many as I like if I clearly see you're not fine."

"I am fine," she insisted. "I do not know what else I can say to convince you of that."

"There's nothing you can say because it won't be true," Geralt sighed. He plucked a bottle from behind the counter and went back to the table.

She frowned, watching him go, uncertain of why he was so insistent she was not all right. She had not lied. She was fine, all things considered.

Ciri sipped her drink and put the tankard down on the bar top.

"Are Dandelion and Kain staying in Oxenfurt during the battle or do they plan to return before that?"

Geralt shrugged. "They will probably stay there if it gets attacked."

That made her feel uneasy, but she didn't say anything. Instead she turned back to her drink, hating the silence that stretched between them but unsure how to rectify it.

"Why don't you go and see him then?" Yennefer offered from where she'd been standing by listening to them skirt around their concerns. "You've got the means."

"Not sure it's a good idea. Might make their work more difficult if the people see the girl who is supposed to buy their safety," Ciri said.

"You're not going there to see the people. You're going to check on Kain. You're able to track his energy, are you not?"

"Zireael is right in her caution," Avallac'h said. "She should stay out of sight. It's best for all."

Ciri gestured with a hand as if to say _What he said_, and drank again. "It would be nice, Yennefer, but he is there for a reason. I don't need to distract him and make things more difficult."

"And yet you could be infinitely more distracted worrying about him." The sorceress shot a look the elf's way. "It's not as if she can't dash there and dash back. I'm not suggesting she spend the night."

"We have no way of knowing when they attack," Avallac'h said. "Zireael has to stay here where we can protect her. The sun is setting. The time is almost up."

"And yet, we don't even know if they're going to attack this very minute or even in the next hour. The Wild Hunt doesn't follow a timetable."

"Precisely why we have to stay put," the Sage responded.

Yennefer averted her attention from the elf to focus on Ciri. Yennefer wasn't asking Avallac'h to shoot across the sky and rush up on Kain. The battle was a big one and Ciri needed to live her life before then – not for it.

"What do _you_ want?" Yennefer asked, her voice quiet.

"I'll stay. It makes the most sense. I trust Kain. If he needs our help I believe he will manage to let us know."

Also, she was not so sure he'd appreciate impromptu visits for no reason other than _'I wanted to see you'_.

"You never know until you actually do it. Your concerns matter as much as his do," Yennefer had added that quietly as well since she'd taken a leap into Ciri's mind. "Don't do what you think is right, do what you want – no more restraints."

"I am," Ciri replied, shooting Yennefer a small smile. It died the moment Philippa joined them. It always did.

"Are you going to just drink the night away?" Philippa asked descending the stairs with the other three sorceresses in tow. "We have to get ready. I believe all people have been evacuated already."

"Then let us get ready." Ciri stood and headed for the basement. She'd seen a shoulder bag there earlier which she intended to fill with grenades, making it easier for her to move from portal to portal carrying the dimeritium.

Yennefer regarded Philippa coldly.

"I'm guessing Dijkstra told you that?" Yennefer knew he hadn't, but for her to assume that it was just done that way, and taken care of was enough of a knock. "Where are you going to be stationed?" she turned to Geralt.

"I'm going to patrol around the center" Geralt said getting up. "Assuming they will open their portals where they did the last time."

"Which is not likely," Avallac'h put in, "for it defeats the element of surprise."

"I'll stuff my element of surprise up their frozen arses any place, any time," Zoltan said on his way out of the basement carrying a crate of bombs.

Ciri followed Zoltan back upstairs, bag slung over her shoulder and carrying another crate of grenades. She set it down on one of the tables and began filling the bag.

Avallac'h sidled up to her while the others were busy talking, pretending to inspect the work Ciri and Zoltan had done with the bombs while whispering to her, "I need a word. In private."

Ciri hesitated momentarily, then rapidly began stuffing her bag again. "Alright. You can help me carry the rest of the crates up from the cellar."

He didn't look pleased at the prospect but did not argue, either.

Ciri propped her bag up on a chair and headed back downstairs. Avallac'h followed.

"It is unlikely we will come out of this battle victorious and rid of The Hunt for good," he said once they were alone. "But on the off-chance we do, you need to be ready to leave immediately."

Ciri lifted one of the crates and held it out to him to take. Avallac'h did not relieve her of it, so she had to put it back on the floor. "What do you mean?"

"Remember what we talked about? Once The Hunt is no longer a threat, our new priority will be The Frost."

Ciri's eyes narrowed. "Immediately, eh?"

"There is no time to spare. The Aen Elle are already in danger."

"What am I supposed to do, exactly? You never told me."

Avallac'h's face remained expressionless. "I will when the time is right."

She watched him for a long moment, then nodded. Ciri had no intentions of leaving her family right after battle, but he did not need to know that. The more she openly defied him, the tighter his leash on her became.

Avallac'h returned upstairs without any crates, leaving Ciri to haul the rest of them up to the bar by herself.

"Margarita filled you in on the strategy?" Yennefer asked Philippa once Geralt had gotten up. Philippa stared at Yennefer as if she were stupid.

"We'll be taking the Hierarchy square," she stated.

"We?" Yennefer mused.

"Margarita and I."

"I'm with you, Yennefer," Fringilla announced as she descended the stairs, moving to pluck her cloak off the hook that she'd hung it on before. Yennefer moved to do the same.

The Witcher was leading his horse out of the stables when the sorceresses stepped out of the inn.

"Yennefer," he called. "A word?"

Fringilla let her gaze linger on Geralt for a moment and then moved to speak to Philippa and Margarita as they stepped out behind them.

Yennefer nodded in acknowledgement and made her way over to Geralt, tightening the cloak around her shoulders and neck thoughtfully.

"If Avallac'h stays here, I thought it might be better to send at least one more mage to Oxenfurt," he said. "Kain is powerful, but not invincible. He could use some help. Should I ask Triss or you can... leave your differences with him out of focus for one night and work together?"

"Differences," she mused, biting back a bitter chuckle itching in her throat.

"Feelings for Ciri and so on. What you fought over. If you think you can't work with him, I shall ask Triss to go to Oxenfurt immediately."

She felt the same bile-like aftertaste of waking up with caked blood under her nose and on her trousers. Even if there was no pain...

"Perhaps it's best I stay here," she said. "I'll feel better being closer to Ciri. I hope you understand."

Geralt frowned as if sensing some undertone, but nodded curtly. "Very well."

She nodded and watched him walk down the street, calling Triss's name.

She detached from the group and stood with him listening closely, nodding. She smiled, stroked a hand down his shoulder, and went back toward the inn. She beamed a smile Yennefer's way in passing.

Geralt mounted and galloped through the street.

"Shall we?" Yennefer asked.

Fringilla exchanged a few more words with her group and then broke away to join her. They hadn't needed the horses for travel, but they'd moved to take them anyway, allowing themselves a time to preserve their energy as they headed for the docks, to a tower that would give them an advantage of the sea and the land and keep them well above the bombs. The wind was another tale, altogether, and something none of them could control if it was to pick up.

Philippa had taken Margarita, headed into the inn and appeared above the bank on the Hierarch Square with no more than a practiced wave of her hand.

"We'll put some of these crates outside the inn," Zoltan said. "For easy access. But ye should bring one with ye to where ye'll wait as well, Ciri. In case ye run out."

If Ciri ran out of grenades, it would either mean there were too many portals to handle, or she'd lose the bag somewhere. Neither scenario was a good one. But Zoltan's advice was decent.

"I will," she promised, helping him haul the last few crates outside before she claimed one of the smaller ones for herself. And then in a flash, she was gone.

She reappeared a few streets over, pushing the crate under an abandoned market stall hidden away in an alley. There she crouched, her hands to the ground, her eyes closed, and she invoked her magic, finding that connection to the earth and air that Kain had taught her.

She waited.

* * *

"... more than Novigrad?"

"What?" Dandelion blinked and turned to Kain with his eyebrows raised inquiringly.

The Cat Witcher was amused. "I said you seem to like this city more than Novigrad. You look dreamy."

"Oh... I..." Dandelion scratched his temple looking around as they rode down the street. "Don't know about the ultimate preference, but I do like it here. Feels close to... _home_, you know? The Academy's been my home for years. Gods, can't believe all of this beauty could be wiped out by those elven savages. I can't allow that! How could this world be without Oxenfurt and its Academy of fine arts!"

"Don't worry ahead of time, Dandelion. The last thing they want is your Academy. They don't care about humans and their arts. They want Ciri."

"Wouldn't they want you just the same, though?"

"I don't know how to use that power Ciri has. I never shifted to another world or even place inside this one by my own will. I don't even know if I can."

"But you've lived in the past," Dandelion argued. "You did get there, and no other power could have done it, or could it?"

"No, I would suppose not. It doesn't change the fact that I was drugged and guided through it."

"I composed a whole ballad while being drunk once. Or maybe a few times. Didn't recall one single note or word when I woke next morning. But would you believe, they always came back to me! There was a lot to rework, however, but they did come back!

"What I mean is, you might remember." The Poet shrugged. "One day. Sometime. Or they would make you - um... if they would get you, that is. Which we better not allow."

He smiled apologetically, but Kain didn't feel offended by such suggestion. He was busy sightseeing while they headed for the Academy. It had been a while since he'd been here.

The young woman with shoulder-long red hair who Dandelion introduced as Shani the Medic and Herbology Scholar stared at them with a mixture of suspicion and naked disbelief, then laughed.

"Are you pulling my leg, Dandelion? And you got a witcher to help you with that prank? I'm amazed at your dedication."

"This is no prank," Kain said, looking at her dead-serious.

"I wouldn't drop everything and come here with a Redanian unit in tow to prank anyone, Shani!" Dandelion said with an exaggerated hurt.

All mirth slipped right off Shani's pretty face, her green eyes widened peering from one to another. "But... Wild Hunt... It's a legend! It's a... a... a strange night sky phenomenon! With a scientific explanation! I even heard our old astronomy professor explain that! Something about humidity and cold air—"

"It's not one of those that's coming," Kain said. "They're very real and wield a very deadly frost magic. They kill with that and swords and have no mercy for anyone."

"Oh gods," she whispered. "How do you fight them?"

"With swords and magic."

"Haven't you heard of them showing up in Novigrad a few days back?" asked the poet.

"I've heard some gossips from people on the streets, but I didn't pay attention to any of it. How would I know! They always talk nonsense on the market."

"We need to evacuate people," Dandelion said. "Can you help? Tell those who would believe and let them make an announcement-"

"We cannot do that!" Shani protested. "There will be panic! So many people will get hurt! Probably more than your Riders would kill. If they want Geralt's ward, why would they kill us? We have nothing to do with it, nor does anyone know that girl!"

"But they want people to hunt her for them," Dandelion reasoned. "They will benefit from people knowing why they suffer and how to end it." He fixed her with a look as if he'd remembered something. "Has Dijkstra arrived with the troops?"

"I haven't seen anything, but my recent patient said there were Redanian soldiers in the port with Sigismund Dijkstra. The man thought Sigi came to be seen as the next in line after Radovid's death, to ensure his position of power."

"He most certainly agreed to come for precisely that reason," the troubadour said. "What a slimy weasel!"

"Either way, we need to ensure people's safety in case of an attack," said Kain.

"What if there is no attack?" Shani looked between them. "What if they attack Novigrad as you say they promised?"

"What if they come here instead?" Kain played back, deadpan.

Shani peered at him for a few seconds, then sighed with defeat. "I don't know if we can arrange people to evacuate unless someone like Dijkstra says so. This... This whole story is so out of this world! No one would believe it without having seen with their own eyes."

"We shall talk to Dijkstra, then," the troubadour concluded.

"I'm not going to do it," said Dijkstra. He was stationed at a tavern by the port and currently stuffing his face with fried pork served with apples, oranges and a huge pitcher of wine.

"People will die because of you and they will know whose fault it is!" Dandelion threatened. "They won't ever forget that betrayal."

Dijkstra snorted and cut himself another piece of meat. "If I come to their market to announce an army of ghosts that's coming to steal their babes and that army never comes, how long do you estimate I keep my position before someone like Roche or that pig Cyrus get hired to replace me? Nothing shall be done unless those bastards actually attack. In that case I shall bring the soldiers to fight and protect them people. Now, get out of my sight before I lose my appetite. That ride was a bitch to my leg."

"We need another plan," Shani said when they strolled back through the market. "Something that would make people want to gather in one place willingly, with no panic." She frowned in thought looking down at the road before her.

"Oh! Master Dandelion! Master Dandelion, isn't it? Oh, I see it is! Ah, such honor! Such honor! Please, take a look at my wares! The best parchments and quills in whole Oxenfurt!" The trader was all but dancing around the poet who couldn't care less about the parchments at the moment but liked the attention and was at a loss how to escape.

"I know!" Shani twirled to Kain, her eyes gleaming in triumph. "I know what shall be done! Come on!"

The Cat Witcher and the poet exchanged glances and hurried after her toward the Academy.

In less than half an hour a dozen students were on the streets and market announcing a free evening of ballads and poetry granted by the famous troubadour Dandelion visiting the Academy that taught him arts. Everybody willing to participate was invited to Dandelion's alma mater to enjoy the beauty of his talents.

"Nice work," Kain praised as they watched people begin to arrive to the Academy's gate as soon as the dusk came.

"I don't think we can accommodate the whole city," Shani said, "but it's better than leaving them all to their fates in case you are right."

"And as always I'm doing all the hard work," whined Dandelion while tuning his new lute.

Shani was studying Kain with an expression of either awe or wonder. "I believe I can see some resemblance, but it's still so bizarre... to think Geralt has a brother... who's also a witcher! It's like a ballad in itself."

"Oh, there will be ballads," Dandelion promised enthusiastically. "I've had enough time to cope and settle the rhymes."

"Here you are!" Triss came up to them, detaching from the newly arrived crowd of Dandelion's admirers. "Since Dandelion went with you, I knew where you'd probably be." She smiled at Shani when the poet introduced them.

"Oh, the famous Triss Merigold!" Shani beamed, igniting Triss's own smile. "I've heard stories about the battle in Sodden."

"It's not something I like to recall," Triss smiled apologetically. "So many of my friends have perished."

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't think."

"It's all right. Not your fault." She looked back at the students walking the arriving citizens along the alleys of the Academy like tour guides. "It's a great idea to gather people here. I'll try to protect this place to the best of my abilities."

"I'll watch over the rest," Kain said. "We've brought bombs with us for the portals. Can't afford dropping fire on them here."

"And yet I shall cover you if needed," Triss said, smiling. "I'll take a position on one of the towers to overlook the territory."

"All right, thank you," Kain said. "I'll patrol the rest from the air."

Shani stared. "How?"

"He's got a griffin friend," Triss said.

"Oh gods," the Medic breathed. "I'd never believe unless I'd see it with my own eyes."

"Perhaps you will," Dandelion said. "I should get ready."

"I'll show you where you can," Shani said and led him away.

"I'm sure Ciri would love to be here now," Triss said wistfully.

"I'm sure she prefers to be with her family," Kain responded. "I should get going, too."

"Yes, we all should," she nodded, then gave him a warm smile in parting. "Be careful."

* * *

After a dozen circles around the city and all throughout, Geralt rode up to where Zoltan picked a spot for himself on a roof around the market, and let Roach rest while he joined the dwarf.

"I see yer not fond of all the pointless waitin'," Zoltan said. "Aye, no fun in that at all. Not for us. Or the people who had to leave."

"It's not the people I worry about now," Geralt looked over the roofs and heaved a sigh. "What if they decided to not attack?"

Zoltan peered at him, scowling. "At all?"

"That or another time? To wear us out or make us lower our guard. It's impossible to tell."

"Aye... Well, it's a shite for an idea to listen to elves. We let them command us when we had to take the initiative and find a way to draw them to us!"

"We have tried that already. And what? We lost Cöen, Vesemir and good men Hjalmar brought. For what? To make a small dent in his army? I'm not even sure the dent was worth it. It feels their soldiers never end."

"True, their numbers are plenty. But we have to find a way to make them come to us. Yer sorceresses have to work on that. I dunno... sweat over some books or ploughin' scrolls but find something useful."

"Not as easy as it sounds."

"Argh, come on, Geralt!" Zoltan threw his hands up and stared at the Witcher indignantly. "They're all pushing the hundred, some of them have to know something from somewhere! They're just lazy to dig. Or unwilling, like that snake Eilhart."

"Go ahead and offer them to dig next time you see them," the Witcher suggested, slightly amused.

"Right. Why don' I bare my arse and sit on an anthill!"

* * *

Fringilla and Yennefer stood with their backs to one another in the tower, reviewing the horizon, their cloaks wrapped around their shoulders in preparation of the frosty winter to come with their enemies.

They'd been talking off and on in small increments, the conversation running fairly dry before the first hour had even passed.

"How long were you Emhyr's prisoner?"

Fringilla speared a curious look at Yennefer's back before it softened into that of idle resignation.

"One hundred and thirty days."

"And you were set to be executed?"

Fringilla's lips twitched, her eyes glistening with what Yennefer knew to be fear as she twisted to meet her eyes. They both had a predisposition to stubbornness.

"Undetermined. Our Nilfgaardian Emperor was waiting on more Lodge members with which to barter and torture. They never let me forget."

Yennefer could only imagine what they did to Fringilla – their own kind – a fellow Nilfgaardian who'd turned her back on their leader. Yennefer had it bad—with reputation and connection alone—but not for one minute did she think they took it easy on Fringilla. Especially with the bruises that had peppered her body and still did in harsher light. Fringilla had also been without her magic, cut off from a force that was like breathing to sorceresses after they'd managed the trials.

"Don't pity me," Fringilla added once silence descended on them again.

"I don't," Yennefer retorted, meaning it.

They'd been in battle before and understood that it had its ugly consequences. There was nothing either of them could do to change it, and in time, even as the next began, it wasn't going to get any better or even easier.

All either could do was wait and hope they survived this one.

* * *

Ciri stayed low to the ground for what felt like an eternity. She didn't know how much time had passed since she first reached the alley, but the moon's position had shifted on the sky. And she had yet to feel anything.

She would have worried she was unable to do what she had been tasked with if not for the fact the streets would have erupted in panic and chaos had The Hunt truly arrived. How long were they supposed to wait? Until exhaustion set in? Would that be when Eredin and his forces decided to strike?

She stood eventually, wincing slightly as she stretched her knees after a long time in the same position. From behind the cover of the nearest building, she peered around the corner, down the street that led to the square. Nothing. No one.

Ciri had thought the peak of her fear would come with The Hunt. But the fact they had not yet arrived somehow seemed even more ominous.

She shook her hands and crouched again, assuming the same position as before, fingers pressed to the ground. And she focused, as hard as she was able. Surely she had to sense something?

"Waiting for an earthquake?"

Geralt wasn't trying to be quiet but Ciri seemed too focused to notice what was happening around her.

Ciri opened her eyes at the sound of his voice, looking up at him with childlike concern.

"Why aren't they coming? What are they waiting for?"

"Can't brag that I know them so personally to know why. But I suspect they aim to wear us out and make us let our guard down. They have a plan and we don't know about it."

"What do we do?" she asked, straightening a little but keeping one hand to the ground. As if worried they would suddenly sneak past them if she didn't.

"What can we do if we don't know what they will and when?"

"Wait," she breathed, lowering her head and closing her eyes again. "We have to stay focused. Vigilant."

Geralt crouched next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in support.

"Ciri, the city is guarded, there's only us, temple guards, witch hunters and Redanian troops. We're prepared. And vigilant. The Lodge is watching the city like hawks. Don't be so hard on yourself. Pick a spot on a roof and just breathe. Breathe deeper. We're fine. We are going to be fine."

Her stance relaxed ever so slightly when Geralt's arm slid around her. She whispered, "I don't want to let you down."

"Ciri..." His heart shrunk painfully, his arm tightened around her drawing her closer. "You absolutely cannot let me or anyone here down. It's impossible. Don't ever think about it. You're the best thing that happened to me. Nothing can change that."

Ciri swallowed, allowing her head to gently rest against him. "And I don't want to lose you. So I must always do my best. I can't allow them to take anyone else from me. Too many already."

"They won't take anyone. We won't let them. We'll find a way to kill him. I promise."

"I believe you," she said quietly. And she did. Because any other option was too horrible to imagine.

"You can join Zoltan or Yennefer. No need to sit here alone with your hands on the road. You lose track of your surroundings because you're all there. What if someone creeps up on you? We can't have that."

"At least then I'd scream and alert the rest of you," she joked before pulling away to look at him. "Where are you going?"

Geralt jerked a thumb back at his bored Roach behind him. "To continue our watch. Want to go with?"

"Yes," she nodded and got to her feet, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. She felt better being close to Geralt.

The Witcher squeezed her shoulder, smiling, and they went down the street, Roach trudging after them.

"I sent Triss to Oxenfurt to back up Kain and Dandelion, just in case," he told her. "Don't worry about them, if you do."

"I worry more about Dandelion than Kain," Ciri said, following. "He gets into trouble on a daily basis."

She smiled a little to ensure him she was jesting, falling into step beside him.

"He's not going to throw himself at trouble. I would think he'll take cover in the Academy if anything happens."

"Let us hope so." Ciri looked up and saw the silhouettes of two sorceresses in one if the towers, probably scanning the city with hawk-like attention.

"It looks like a ghost town," she said, eyeing the abandoned houses and buildings, many of them boarded up to protect them from potential damage.

"If you ignore all the guards and hunters - yes. The less people to get in the way of their swords, the better."

They walked in silence for a while, passing various soldiers and other individuals who were half-hiding in the shadows. Everywhere was quiet. Ciri couldn't even hear the sound of the crickets anymore, nor the familiar rumble of drowners whenever they neared the city walls.

"How will we know if they attack somewhere else? What if they don't even come to this realm, but another entirely? Skellige?"

"Mousesack is watching over Skellige," Geralt reasoned. "He will let us know if something happens there." He sighed, contemplating. "I do admit it's rather strange to warn us in advance. Even though we had lured them to a certain spot before, this time makes me wonder concerning their intention."

"They could be bluffing. They could be keeping us busy while doing something else they do not want us to know about."

"What do they want here besides you? What would you guess they are doing?"

"I don't know." She thought about it. "The Sunstone? Could they be trying to get to it before us? Or leave traps for us once we do go to search? Maybe Ge'els have betrayed us."

"I don't think he did. As for Sunstone - do they even know where to look? Do they have that advantage?"

Ciri lifted her shoulders and shrugged. "I do not know. These are merely speculations."

"Sunstone is hardly a solid reason, either. We don't even know if they are aware of what the Sunstone is. There must be something else. I was hoping you would have an idea."

"It's not as if I have done something like this with them before – arranging a battle." She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. "Unless... Unless they know about Kain? Maybe they don't want me at all?"

"I'm certain they know about him," Geralt said. "The Crone must have told them. They have been in cahoots all this time. But he's not using the very power they are able to track."

"But The Crone tracks his blood," Ciri pointed out. "If she is in league with The Hunt still, she could be telling them of his every move."

"Knowing where he might be doesn't mean they get to catch him. His battle magic currently surpasses yours, and catching him would be hard."

"That does not mean it is not their intention."

"I would expect them to go about their intention in a more cunning way than a direct attack."

"Maybe that's why they would do it – because we don't expect it."

Geralt reflected a moment. "Have you asked Avallac'h for his opinion? Who if not the Sage would know?"

She shook her head. "I haven't wanted to broach the topic of Kain with him at all. Though I suspect that's where his priorities will lie now."

The Witcher scowled. "What do you mean?"

"Kain is stronger, more level-headed, and skilled in magic. If the Aen Elle want a savior, he is the better choice."

"He also is capable of more resistance than they may be expecting from you, given that time when they cornered you into submission."

She frowned, instantly wounded by that. "I did what I had to. You and Yennefer were in danger and I was running out of time!"

"I'll never blame you for that, I've told you many times." He turned to her with concern and hurt. "Don't ever think I judge you for any choices you made, Ciri. No one can judge you for any of it. You had no choice, that's why I said they cornered you."

"I know. I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know why I get so defensive."

"Because you demand the impossible from yourself. You judge yourself too harshly, and it's not fair at all. The way you view yourself is not the way I see it. You forget that."

"It's hard to see oneself in a certain way when you have been told for so long you are something else." She ran a hand along Roach's shoulder. "I'm sure you can relate."

"I consider myself lucky with having you and Dandelion, even Kain now. Who would ever imagine I had a brother... It's a wonder in its own right for both of us. And for you, too."

She snorted and shot him a playful glare. "Don't start with the uncle bit again."

He had to smile, then shrugged. "I'm not your father, so there's no uncles on my side."

"Yes, you are. In every way that matters, you are."

"Well, then... Kain's your uncle." He grinned; Roach snorted.

Scoffing, Ciri playfully punched Geralt's shoulder. "That makes your daughter one twisted girl. Woman," she amended quickly. "_Woman_."

"_Girl_," Geralt recited and smiled at her. "You're always my girl. Twisted or not, you're my perfect girl."

She couldn't help but blush, her cheeks reddening at that and she ducked her head with a small smile. She would never tire of hearing it – his affection for her. She would revel in it and imprint it in her memory so she would never forget, not even when she would next be alone and scared.

Ciri adjusted the strap on her shoulder again, sobering ever so slightly. "Are you worried?"

"About what?"

"The others? Do you think the sorceresses could send a message to Triss? Ask her what is happening their end?"

"If anything happened, Triss would find a way to send a message - I would think she'd try. It's why I asked her to go there."

Ciri nodded, but didn't quite feel at ease. What if Triss tried and failed?

"They're playing games with us. Mind games. I don't like it."

"It's what they're good at - deceit, cunning, wicked plots. If you're of another world and aim to conquer a new one, you have to think in cunning schemes. But my best guess is that no one knows them better than Avallac'h. If he tells you nothing, it puts him in line with them, not us. You understand it, don't you?"

"I do, but... if he wanted them to capture me, why would he continue to pull me out of their grasp?"

"It's a good question," the Witcher said, pondering. "Perhaps he's waiting for us to kill Eredin for him, and then he would be willing to present you to the next one on the throne. Who would that be? Ge'els? Or anyone else? Maybe it doesn't even matter for as long as it's not Eredin."

"You truly think he would do that to me?"

"He was willing to make you bear his king's child." Geralt looked at her with a keen eye. "Yes, I do believe he would do it again, in a heartbeat."

"He was willing when I was a stranger," Ciri said quietly. "When he did not know me and I meant nothing. Maybe it would be different now."

"Is there any smallest inclination in you to believe he genuinely cares about you for who you are and not for the power you carry?" Geralt regarded her closely. "Is there anything true, solid, besides your wishful thinking?"

She didn't answer and supposed that gave Geralt the information he needed.

Ciri averted her gaze, suddenly quite preoccupied with staring down at the cobblestones at their feet. Her heart gave a painful thump. She felt ridiculous but the hurt would not be ignored.

Geralt's chest felt a bit tight as he watched her. He felt sorry he didn't end the topic - gods knew, this was not the time at all. But the deed was done, and he had his answer.

He put an arm around her shoulders again and pulled her to him, kissed her temple. "Don't think about it now, Ciri. It's not helping. Put it on hold. We will deal with this later. Now it's about the Hunt, not the Sage. At least we know he didn't plot it with Eredin. This should be enough for now."

She nodded. "I have never wanted someone dead so badly. But it feels like there will be an eternity before that actually happens."

"You're too fixated on that goal, and when the goal is killing someone, it can be a painful path with a lot of self-pressure and unneeded reveries. I know how you feel, Ciri, but you will have to make yourself let go a little. Before it rules your life and later ruins it. You will stew in that desire longer and longer until it eats up everything else you have in life, and when it's finally over, you will find that, instead of being relieved and ready to enjoy your life and freedom, you feel numb and empty, like an empty shell of who you should be. Don't do this to yourself." He caught her chin to make her look him in the eye. The moonlight reflected in his eyes like a cat's. "We'll get him. But don't lose yourself to it. He's not worth it."

She met his gaze and felt the impact of his words. Yet she could not promise him she would embrace his advice. She did not know how. It had been everything she had thought of the last few years.

"I will try," Ciri said, for at least she could promise him that.

"You should," he said with feeling. "Otherwise he wins."

He already has. That's what it felt like. Eredin and so many other men had taken her childhood and her youth. Taken her life.

But Geralt was right. Self-pity was not useful. It would only destroy you more.

She nodded again, feeling a little more determined. "I will do better. And still run him through with my sword should I ever get the chance."

"One of us will do it sooner or later," he promised. "Rather sooner if he keeps bothering us like he does."

"He has to." Ciri took Geralt's hand in hers as they walked. "He has no other choice. His world is dying. His people..."

"I understand the urgency, but I do not stand by the means he chooses."

"Nor do I. And I suspect if he got what he wanted, he would still demand more."

"What more is there? The whole world? There is nothing more beyond that."

"I expect he would want that child. Someone to open the gates for him when I am gone. And a child raised by Aen Elle would be much easier to control."

"They cannot make you have a child to give away. It's not going to happen. We won't allow that."

"No. I would never let that happen now." She'd find a way out of it.

He studied her for a moment. "Do you even want a child of your own?"

"Of course not. I have never wanted to be a mother." She was certain about that. "But that does not mean I am so cruel as to let Eredin take him or her should it, Gods forbid, ever happen."

The Witcher peered at her with interest. "You don't feel you could be a good mother or you're scared to care too much and bind yourself to another being?"

"The first, obviously. But more importantly, I will never pass this life onto someone else. To condemn someone to being hunted and only wanted for your powers... it's cruel."

"Trust me, Ciri, if you'll ever feel you'd like to have a child, don't let your power stop you. These powers can be used for protecting this world, and you can teach this child the right things. Don't build your life on fears. It's not a life."

"It's not a life," Ciri agreed. "Which is why I will never make anyone else go through it." She shrugged. "Maybe, one day, if I have my freedom and coin to spare, I will take someone in. Plenty of orphans in our world."

The Witcher smiled. It was an unfair question, a badly timed one. There would come the day when she might reconsider. It was not that day yet.

"Good," he approved. "You'll know what to do when you know what you wish for. Either way, I'm proud of you. I need you to never forget it."

"I'm proud of you too. For someone who never wanted children, either, you've done quite well." Ciri smirked. "Just look at how well-behaved I am."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Yes. You're a blessing. Especially for a first-time parent."

"Have you ever wanted more? Children, I mean."

"No. Not with the way of life I have. I always knew it wasn't possible. Wanting something impossible is a waste of life."

"I suppose it is."

Though Yennefer wanted children and could not have them. She got something close in the end.


	46. Chapter 46

"I didn't have time before to ask when you arrived and given what's going to happen, what I know is going to happen – how is Geralt?" Shani asked.

Dandelion preened in front of a mirror, making sure that his attire was of good standing since he hadn't had time to clean up after their journey. Dandelion had little to work with in the way of lighting and preparation for his performance, but given his aptitude for heroism, he'd decided he'd have to make it work as people's lives depended on it.

"Broody as ever. Alive."

Dandelion twisted slightly from his reflection to consider her. Geralt and Shani might have had their moment in the blistering desire-filled sun, but Dandelion knew Shani well enough to know that, despite their amiable separation, she probably still felt some kind of adoration for the Witcher.

Most women did.

"When all of this is over, I'm sure he'd love to see you."

"You think?" Shani asked, reverting back to the smitten-eyed seventeen-year-old she'd been when she first laid eyes on Geralt in all his Witcher glory.

Dandelion had pondered about her often, about her lovers, about her life, and he'd even harbored his own implicit affections – those he kept tight to his chest. Dandelion smiled his support, nodded, and glanced down at his lute, at the strings he'd spent time tuning to perfection earlier, strumming to test it one last time.

"You shouldn't keep them waiting any longer."

Dandelion raised his head with a flaring confidence, and nodded. He strode out from behind the curtain and took to the stage.

The crowd appeared to bask in his performance, relishing in his rendition of 'A Wolf's Demise' and more importantly 'Toss a Coin to Your Witcher'. He could even see his admirers sing along, dance in favor of their spoils and surprise, driving the festivities until even Dandelion forgot about the looming war. Even Shani, who'd been keeping an eye on the Academy walls, on the tower she knew Triss presided in waiting on a sign, allowed herself to be dragged in by the performance. She smiled affectionately in her gifted friend's direction, recalling their time together, the adventures she'd shared with Dandelion and Geralt in a brief period of their lives. And what a time it had been for her, she'd never quite experienced anything like it again.

Shani had still been in the middle of her reminiscing—and Dandelion had just moved to his next song—when a flame shot up from the tower as if it were a dragon, driving upward in an arch that lit up the sky.

Dandelion stopped playing to marvel, that single flame breaking the spell, forcing the crowd to stare with mild confusion until eventually a portal opened in the courtyard within the Academy walls and let in a single unit of soldiers. Tall figures covered from head to toe in black armor, brandishing swords and lances. One man in particular had been slow in his realization that things had turned for the worst, and paid for it as one of the dark soldiers drove his sword through the man's gut; a woman had been caught mid-run by a spear to the back and trampled as the crowd blindly rushed in opposite directions to seek shelter in the structures around them.

"Here! Over here!" Shani shouted above the increasing noise of panicked shouts, her tone controlled and surprisingly stable. "Everyone inside!"

Triss peeled herself from her vantage point in the tower as soon as she heard the screams, picking up one of the bombs she'd kept close, feeling its immediate effects on her hand as she tossed it toward the portal, adding a dusting of a flame only once she was sure it had been cleared far enough to aid the soldiers in their life and death fight.

The bomb exploded crisply and the portal disappeared.

"INSIDE! GET INSIDE!" Dandelion yelled above the bang, watching as people dropped to their knees, swinging the lute around on its fastenings until it had come to land in the middle of his back with the same flare Geralt possessed when it came to his swords. Some of the crowd—who'd managed to escape the Hunters—followed without hesitation, others had to be physically yanked from their floundering and guided into the academy to override their crippling fear. Before most had even made it to safety, a handful of Dijkstra's men took command of the situation, while others dispatched of the Wild Hunt combatants with Triss's aid.

"Help me!" Shani hissed, grabbing a man trying to return to the woman who had blood frothing at her mouth, the spear no longer in her back. The man had resisted, but eventually succumbed to helping her get the woman indoors. He outright refused, once inside, when Shani wanted to return for the man who'd been gutted. Dandelion had stayed close to help, had heard—as well as seen—another bang since then and could see smoke beginning to rise from outside of the walls to suggest that Triss or the Wild Hunt had hit something that was beginning to burn. Triss appeared to be straining.

Shani caught up to him once Dandelion began to make his way out.

"Where are you going?!" Shani hissed, face paling at the sight of the frosty clouds that bellowed from her mouth. It was the first she'd seen. Shani's hands were stained with blood, hair wild and her face shiny with sweat.

Dandelion had seen more flames, was sure he'd seen something fly overheard that could be Kain and his griffin, but given the frost, the change in weather, he couldn't be sure and had no way of knowing until he'd heard another bang.

The explosions had started off slowly at first, but they were beginning to pick up the more time passed, and he could almost predict them. They needed more help.

"I need to get to Triss," Dandelion stated with determination, despite the fear in his voice, his eyes widening as bits of the wall flew when something rammed into it from the outside.

Shani understood, but she couldn't possibly see how or what he could do, apart from try to keep the citizens calm or helping her tend to wounds.

"Stay inside, stay safe."

Dandelion swept Shani's hand aside as it came to anchor him, and then ran passed the guards tending to the bodies at their feet and their own injuries, readying to keep fighting as they headed for the gate, hoping to catch sight of their leader for command.

* * *

The bomb disappeared in the shining globe of an opening portal and exploded into a firework of white and silver sending the Riders and their hounds flying every which way in pieces. The two Riders happened to be whole, but struggled to get up after the rough impact with the wall of the Oxenfurt Auction house. The Redanian soldiers reached them in time and finished the job with their swords, overworking their fear and rage in a dozen stabs more than was needed.

Griffin screeched and dashed sideways, almost dropping Kain off, then evened out his flight with effort. Kain glimpsed a bolt sticking out of the beast's shoulder. The Rider on the ground had a heavy crossbow and was aiming again; Kain directed the beast sideways abruptly, missing the next bolt by inches, and flew toward the Academy Island. He had spent his last bomb, and Griffin had to heal and hide. There was no way Kain would let him risk his life further.

They landed a bit clumsily on the wall around the Academy; a few yards further Triss was busy protecting the perimeter with her fireballs and spells. She already looked tired. Kain yanked the bolt out, Griffin croaked loudly, falling back a few steps, his front paw not touching the ground and held suspended.

"Shh, it's all right," Kain murmured, placing his palm on the wound, closing his eyes to focus. "It's all right…"

In a few moments, it was, and Griffin's paw lowered to stand firmly. He dipped his head, checking his still bloody shoulder with his tongue, but there was no pain.

Kain held onto the wall to overcome dizziness, then snapped his head to see when Griffin suddenly darted off the wall and down into the Academy yard like an attacking hawk. Kain dashed to the side of the wall and witnessed the beast grab one of the few hounds Dijkstra's soldiers futilely tried to fight off. Griffin, croaking, went up like a shot arrow, and snapped the hound's head off in the air with his beak. His talons loosened, letting the two lifeless pieces drop while he darted down for the next.

Kain ran toward Triss who had just finished battling a Rider – his smoking bulk half-hung over the wall. Triss was panting, her brow and cleavage glistening with sweat, her hair in disarray.

"Are you all right?" she asked, seizing him up quickly, then turned to watch the griffin take care of another hound. She smiled subtly. "He's good. An amazing creature."

"I shouldn't have brought him here," Kain lamented. "It's not his fight."

"You've blood… you're wounded?"

"No," Kain looked down at his hand. "It's his. I healed him. I need to send him away."

"I understand," Triss nodded reluctantly. "I have about ten more bombs. What's in the city?"

"They are opening more gates, I have to stop as many as I can. I will go back there now."

"I shall help," she said. "With fire, where I can."

"Make sure no one gets in here."

"They opened five in here, I closed them all, and your griffin killed the remaining hounds." Triss smiled meekly. "It's all right. We'll manage here. The city, though… you can't do it alone."

"I will try. Maybe I can."

"Kain…"

"No other choice."

"Go. I'll get to you soon."

Kain scooped five bombs to clip them to his belt and croaked at Griffin. The beast dashed to pick him up, and they went around the city to avoid the direct route. Kain was cautious of the crossbows now.

A few more globes shone around the Market Place. Kain sent the bombs in; they went off on impact one after another, crashing the bulbs of light and sending the Riders and hounds scattered in all directions, some in pieces, and some merely knocked off balance. The survivors picked themselves up and began to slash at the soldiers. It wasn't hard to notice how small the Redanian numbers were compared to those Kain couldn't prevent from coming through.

The portals began to open in the woods east of the city: many globes at once. As if they foresaw the dimeritium and tried to make the defense use the most in the beginning. Kain tried not to fall for it and used his powers to disperse the first wave, but the second one – inside the city – broke out immediately, and up they went with the remaining bombs. There wasn't enough. And Kain felt ashamed and stupid for not giving it all a better thought before. Why would they believe the Aen Elle would keep their word? Why would they believe Novigrad was the target? Why wouldn't they prepare a better defense here? No time? Lack of resources? Both factors were in play, but it wasn't a solid excuse for all the people dying down there on the streets.

Civilians caught outdoors at the beginning of the attack were running like spooked chickens. The few guards and soldiers that kept their wits were screaming for them to run to the Academy, and eventually many heard. Some perished on their way, some were knocked over by their peers running like a stampede in panic and despair.

Kain landed at the bridge leading into the city's Novigrad gate from the eastern riverbank and found himself between the city and the upcoming unit of the Riders jogging from the woods – from the portals he had failed to close in time in the beginning. The hounds were growling and beginning to race.

Kain gestured for Griffin to go and fell on one knee, closing his eyes, his palms flat on the ground. The power rushed like burning water through his veins, up and through his arms and chest, spilling like a spicy spirits drink throughout his body, stinging, prickling, eager to bust.

Griffin plucked a few hounds, but then obeyed another command from Kain and flew away. Kain unsheathed his sword and let the unit get closer. There were no more thoughts or worries in his trance, and his heart beat fast but steadily, pumping blood and magic. The first unit had no chance.

The second and third came up shortly after, and the hounds were many.

When the last one dropped dead, Kain felt it: the rush of power was at its peak and was beginning to slide downwards.

He waited another moment, glimpsing a few more figures in the fields around, but then turned and hurried back into the city where he was needed most.

Where the Redanians were losing more and more numbers against the forces they had never fought before. More and more flashes of fire illuminated the center of the city while Triss did her utmost to take out as many as she could with precise strikes.

Her alone was not enough.

Them together was not enough, either, Kain realized in the very back of his faraway rational mind subdued by the spell, when he slid into the battle like a knife into butter, making the most of what was left of his magic burst.

He didn't want to think of what came after it finally exhausted itself.

Not yet it did… Not… yet…

* * *

Dandelion found his way into the tower he knew Triss to be around, ran the perimeter of the wall in search of her, following the spark of light as she threw fire to keep the Hunters that had appeared on the outskirts of the mote around the Academy at bay. He stopped when he noticed that there were portals all along the edge, spread out, producing six to ten soldiers at a time until there seemed to be more of the Wild Hunt than there was of the trees or citizens, gaping in wonder as Kain's Griffin swooped down and reappeared with one of those dogs in its claws, and then proceeded to rip it apart. The creature itself also looked rundown. There was no way they were going to keep up this pace.

"Triss!" Dandelion called once he caught up to the sorceresses. She looked about ready to fall to her knees, and blood had begun to trickle from her nose. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't know how long I'm going to be able to keep this up," she stated, showcasing fear in spite of her resolve.

Another portal appeared in the courtyard and she immediately reached for another of the dimeritium bombs.

"No," he said, seeing her flinch as soon as her hand grazed the metal sphere. "I'll do it." He'd seen her take out the previous five portals, and concluded he could do the same. "Breathe while you can."

He picked up the dimeritium bomb, and tossed it, watching in amazement as Triss added a little fire propulsion midair, blasting the Riders in black in opposite directions like rag dolls.

Those Redanian soldiers that survived the first wave were on them immediately, slicing with brutal ferocity and barely looking human doing so.

Dandelion picked up another of the bombs, watching as Triss aided the men, making sure the courtyard was once again clear, and then turned her mental focus on the main city in search of Kain to make sure he was holding up.

"He's doing surprisingly well," Dandelion commented.

"He's going to get himself killed," Triss muttered.

Dandelion turned his attention to the Riders on the water's edge; they were staring, but making no attempt to cross the water to get to them.

"And so are you," he told Triss. "There's only two of those dimeritium bombs left."

Triss grimaced as she threw another fireball, helping an unfortunate soul being mauled by one of those fierce dogs in the main city. Triss staggered as she lowered her arm, and Dandelion went to keep her upright.

Shani was at the gateway, assisting the citizens the Redanians had managed to safely help across the bridge, and then ushering them into one of the buildings. Scholars and traders and regular civilians were huddled together, most women crying, men tending to their wives and themselves.

When the bridge crowd had thinned, Shani headed for the tower, joining Triss and Dandelion on the wall.

"Oh my," she breathed, staring at the armored figures scattered across the forest, taking in the ongoing damage to Oxenfurt, tears springing to her eyes. "We can't do this."

"No," Dandelion agreed, his arm still looped around Triss's waist.

"We have to," Triss murmured, her inner eye fixated on Kain, watching as he fought unrelentingly, quite willing to lay his life down for the cause. "Kain needs us. Me. These people need us."

She wiped the blood from her nose, straightening up, peeled herself from Dandelion's arms, moved along the wall, seeking more of those she could help in close proximity, leaving Dandelion to tend to the dimeritium and the next portal.

It didn't take long for another to appear.

* * *

The magic high was diminishing with each slain hound and each slashed Rider. As if a faint feeling one catches in a deep dream, Kain felt the heaviness of fatigue settle slowly and gradually in his muscles starting with the sword-wielding arm. He rode the remaining power of the spell out to its full potential, and then, when the vision shivered and blurred and he became more aware of his body and its pains, of how his pulse thudded in his temples and how the overloading magic had drained his stamina and left him lightheaded and tired, Kain saw the elven mage. The Mage's helmet with its round halo over the top and its black skull sockets was staring at Kain across the city square, his staff glowing, white sparkly ice of frost spells crawled around its end like shattered pearls where it touched the cobblestones.

Caranthir raised the staff and brought it down on the cobblestones, and the Frost spread across the ground, creeping over the street, catching the Redanian soldiers' boots and locking them in place like glue, then creeping up and to their knees. People screamed, their voices brutally cut off by the Riders who were unaffected by the spell. Slain humans fell down, their frozen legs snapping at the ankles like dry twigs.

Kain felt the blow as it was in its swing, and turned to block with his blade. Their swords clashed, making Kain grunt at the power of the blow he had barely stopped from crushing into his shoulder. The black impassive skull of Eredin's helm stared him down.

Kain twirled from under the Elf's sword's pressure and stabbed, but Eredin blocked an instant before delivering his next blow and then another. The ringing of their blades pushed away the rest of the battle, and Kain's focus latched solely on the Elven King who wasn't intending to let him catch his breath. He wasn't a part of the battle before, and Kain was certain Eredin was saving vigor for this particular fight. He was after a specific target – the next best thing after Ciri.

From the corner of his eye, Kain glimpsed orange flares, heard the whooshing of fire and screams muffled by heavy helms of the Riders and howling of their hounds. Triss was trying to aid, but Eredin didn't seem perturbed in the slightest. He was intensely focused on draining Kain of all remaining stamina by delivering the hardest blows he could muster. Kain had to hand it to him – the Elf was a skilled fighter, and heavy armor didn't seem to obstruct his movements much or at all.

Their dance to the clanging of swords and the symphony of battle around continued for what felt a century. The city around them, illuminated by explosions and fire and flashes of spells, blurred into one dazzling tapestry while they clashed, stabbed, twirled, parried, rolled and clashed again.

Kain jerked to jump away from under the Elf's blade, but remained pinned, and Eredin's sword slid across Kain's side, making him gasp. His legs were screaming in agony of pain that only ice could cause: the crystal ornaments of Frost sparkled around his boots and all over them, creeping up his legs and body, spilling inside like poison that made every cell of his body howl in growing pain. The heat of blood soaking his side turned into ice and bloomed in red spiky roses the more of it seeped into the shirt.

Kain couldn't turn but sensed Caranthir's stare from somewhere behind him on the burning square. Eredin approached, sheathing his sword. He pulled the skull visor of his helm away, revealing a beautiful face. He was smiling coldly.

"I must admit I am impressed," he said, staring Kain down with a detached interest like one would marvel at a shiny bug. "You are a worthy trophy – for as long as you know how to surrender." He smirked, glancing at Kain's hand with the sword – the one he no longer could raise nor lower.

Everything inside was filled with gnawing cold, ice that stabbed and ripped at his body with its sharp teeth while he couldn't even make a sound. He glared at Eredin, and the Elf looked back amused. He waved a hand at someone behind Kain – the Mage, Kain thought – and it became a tad easier to breathe. Kain gasped for air, grunting in pain.

"I'm… useless to… you," he managed.

"We shall see about that," Eredin responded. "At the very least, you shall pay for all the soldiers you took from me. That I do promise and shall enjoy."

* * *

Ciri and Geralt traipsed through the city in silence. When a soft flapping of wings sounded nearby, Ciri turned her head and peered into the darkness. It took her a few seconds to notice the griffin who was standing behind two empty marked-stalls, his eyes fixed on her with an unnerving intensity. Ciri's gaze automatically searched for Kain somewhere close to him, but there was nothing. No one. Geralt had noticed the griffin, too, of course, and had frozen in his tracks, one hand on Roach's reins, the other seemingly twitching to reach for his sword. Ciri touched his shoulder and shook her head, cautiously approaching the creature who was now shifting its weight nervously from one leg to another.

"What's wrong?" She felt ridiculous asking the question – Griffin would clearly not answer.

He allowed her close, much closer than she would have ever expected without Kain's presence. And that in itself was disconcerting. He nipped at the sleeve of her armor, tugging slightly as if attempting to coax her closer. Ciri threw a concerned glance at Geralt before tentatively reaching up to stroke down Griffin's feathered neck, trying to assess his distress. Her hand caught on something sticky. Something that had not yet fully dried. Blood. It took her but a few seconds to put two and two together. Her gaze immediately found Geralt's yellow eyes in the dark again. "They're taking Oxenfurt!"

The Witcher set his jaw and nodded curtly, "Go. But don't be rash."

He waved a hand at her in encouragement and hopped into the saddle, galloping to where the sorceresses were keeping watch.

Ciri briefly toyed with the idea of letting the griffin take her to Oxenfurt, but soon decided against it. She didn't want to put him in unnecessary danger. Besides, it would take longer.

She threw a gander at Geralt, then vanished.

* * *

She appeared in the midst of chaos. Everywhere she looked there was ice, blood, and death. People were screaming and crying, several clutching their dead or trying to crawl away from The Hunt's Riders and their beasts.

Portals were still opening and Ciri did not hesitate to make use of the bombs in her bag, rapidly darting from portal to portal in order to close them before more elves could make it out on the other side. But she was forced to stop before long, too distracted by her enemies who had noticed her and were attempting to block her in with their bodies.

She threw the bag to a Redanian soldier who still had use of his arms and legs.

"Aim at the portals!" she commanded. "Close them up!"

The solider, momentarily befuddled, hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and got on with it, a few of his friends soon joining him to help where they could.

Ciri had drawn her sword and was hacking and slashing at everyone and everything that came for her, a green blur as she moved around the city, slaughtering and defending while trying to identify any of her fellow fighters as hers.

She saw none. Not Triss. Not Dandelion. Not Kain. She hoped they were out of harm's way, safely shielded somewhere. But she knew that could not be the truth. They would never hide when others were in danger. Especially Kain.

It seemed like a strange scene from one of her nightmares when she finally found Eredin. He stood out amongst everyone else, humans scattered at his feet like fallen tin soldiers, most of them partially or fully encased in ice. The King was facing someone in front of him, talking, too softly for Ciri to make out his words. As she crept closer and saw the familiar but bloodied and broken Kain, rage and fear ignited within her like a wildfire.

She rushed at the elf with a furious cry, a streak of green as she tackled his body with her own, limbs locking around him as she pulled him with her into the unknown.

"Ciri!" Kain screamed, though it came out more as a wheeze. The adrenaline rush that followed seeing her disappear into thin air with the Elf King aided, however, and Kain squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate effort to concentrate on the pulse inside his chest. He felt a touch of heat and forced it to get hotter and spread warmth through his aching limbs and break the spell. It took what felt like an eternity of biting pain of cold and warmth battling for every inch of his body. He ripped his boots off the ground with cracking of the frost around the soles and swirled just in time to stop the swing of the Mage's staff.

With a scream of anger and pain, Kain threw his free hand forth sending the Mage flying backwards. The Mage picked himself up very quickly and swung his staff again. Kain rolled away from the spell and snatched the familiar sword off the pavement before he got up to his feet. The sword was Ciri's. He dodged another spell from Caranthir – rolled away, gnashing his teeth in pain. When he got up, the Mage was gone, as well as the afterglow of his portal.

Deserted.

Good. There was plenty of Riders and hounds to still rip him apart, Kain noticed. He heaved a ragged sigh and sheathed Ciri's sword, looked down at his wounded side. The gash felt deep enough, and with the Frost spell gone the blood was back to gushing. Kain put a hand on it, stilling for a second, collecting power to stave the bleeding. He didn't feel he managed it to the fullest, but it had to do. There was no time for any pauses.

He raised his sword and hurried to aid the soldiers surrounded by a group of hounds.

* * *

Ciri groaned when she landed on something hard and jagged, her ribs aching from the impact. They'd fallen instead of appearing on solid ground. That used to happen quite a lot back when Ciri had not been in control of her traveling. It had been a long time since now.

She forced her eyes to open and lifted her head. The wind was roaring wildly, bringing with it drops of rain that splashed onto her face.

No, not rain. Water. The ocean. It was salty.

She'd taken them to a different world. One she could not remember having visited before. And they were on a rock in the middle of the ocean. The waves crashed angrily against the cliffs, continuing to spray her with water.

Ciri didn't have a chance to get back on her feet before a gloved hand grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, lifting her up and letting her dangle as though she was a naughty kitten.

Eredin peered up at her with a cold smile, though there was something new in his eyes. She couldn't decipher whether it was annoyance or a faint trepidation. He didn't like it here any more than she did.

When he spoke, it was in Elder Speech and due to her current state, Ciri had to concentrate hard to understand him.

"Take us home, Zireael."

Ciri reached for her sword and found it to be missing from its scabbard. She'd had it in Oxenfurt, but now… it was gone.

"Give yourself over, and your friends might yet live."

Her hand shifted subtly to her waist where a dagger hung from her belt. She withdrew it and raised it, swiftly aiming the tip for Eredin's eye, fueled by a strong desire to drive it straight through his eye socket and into his skull.

But he reacted too quickly. His other hand locked around her wrist and with superior strength, the elf twisted her hold on the dagger, forcing it into the front of Ciri's thigh instead. She couldn't withhold a cry of pain and the accompanying tears that sprang to her eyes.

Eredin smiled unpleasantly. "I promised you this would happen. For your own good. A few weeks without the use of your leg will help you reconsider your priorities."

Another shriek tore from her when he pulled the dagger out. A red rose rapidly bloomed on her trousers which were already soaked from the sea-spray.

Ignoring the instinct to reach for her wound and cover it, Ciri's hands clamped down on Eredin's head, her thumbs pushing into his eyes. She did not manage to do much damage, but the elf dropped her and the dagger both.

She landed harshly on her knees on the rock and briefly suspected her kneecaps had shattered.

Eredin growled in anger and started for her again once he'd blinked away whatever irritation she had managed to inflict.

Ciri didn't give him the chance to catch up again. She vanished in her familiar green light, leaving Eredin behind.

* * *

The golden swirls dissipated, baring the horrors of battle raging on the Oxenfurt streets; fire, ice, and bodies were laid out all over the ground, and black knights in familiar armor were cutting down men and women alike. Some of the civilians had joined the Redanians and were fighting back. Most unsuccessfully.

"Find her!" Yennefer beseeched Geralt, scanning the faces in search of Ciri, hardly flinching when a flame rushed past them and careened near a pack of hounds. She cast a glance in the direction she knew Triss to be and sent a familiar rush of golden light toward the pack, scooping up those that Kain hadn't managed to cut down until they'd hit air one after the other and Triss was able to light them up before they hit the ground.

The Witcher didn't waste any time as soon as he found his balance stepping out of the portal. He bared the sword and rushed to where Kain was fighting three Riders. He clashed in, expertly stabbing the closest one in the neck, then pushing the second away from Kain so the latter could deliver a blow and make the third lose his balance.

"Where is Ciri?" Geralt asked, sensing by the way Kain moved that he was barely holding on.

"I don't know," Kain grunted, ducking as he swept under the Rider's swinging sword and stabbed his into the gash between the shoulders and the helm. Blood gushed out in a crimson fan and the Rider slumped down.

He turned to stab the remaining Rider, and his sword slid into his armpit while Geralt's found the elf's throat. The dead knight fell down in a clang of metal against the pavement barely audible in the cacophony.

Geralt grabbed Kain's shoulder, squeezing.

"She went to help, she should be here."

"She's gone with their king, Eredin," Kain panted. "It… happened… so fast. She grabbed him… and disappeared. She took him somewhere. Dropped her sword." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder; Geralt raised his eyes to see Swallow's handle peeking from behind Kain's back.

"Dammit," the Witcher grunted. "I had to get Avallac'h but I had no time."

"How did you…"

"Your griffin came for her."

Kain winced and instinctively looked up, hoping to not see the beast in the sky. He wasn't there, but Kain still felt throes of worry. For both Griffin and Ciri.

"Find Yennefer," Geralt said. "Maybe she can think of something or get the darn Sage."

Kain nodded and they parted ways; the Witcher ran to engage another Rider who was near to killing a wounded soldier, and his brother took a quick look around, grimacing at the pain in his wound, and glimpsed where the fireballs were coming from. Triss was on one of the roofs. She wasn't alone.

Slashing a hound, then another on his way, Kain was halfway to the building when something like a hunch, a very powerful but brief one, pulled him in a different direction, away from the market and around the corner of the tavern. A glimpse of greenish gleam flashed there against a wall.

Ciri's aim was off. She had intended to bring herself back to the spot where she'd tackled Eredin, but had ended up somewhere else entirely.

At least it was Oxenfurt. She could tell by the lingering chaos.

Her leg was bleeding heavily and she was unable to put much of her weight on it at all, making walking particularly difficult. That did not stop her from acting once she caught sight of a Rider chasing a small child through the streets.

She jumped, slamming into him with so much force they both toppled over. The Rider lost his sword and Ciri reached for it. He clambered up her body, his fist connecting with her face as they grappled for the sword. He won. He was quicker.

But she was angrier.

The Rider's head exploded just as the drowner's had a few nights earlier. His body fell back on the ground again and Ciri released a small sigh of relief.

Kain yanked the dead Rider away to pull Ciri from under him. She seemed to be conscious, but barely, her eyes were rolling, her cheek was turning red with the fresh and heavy bruise saturating in color.

"Ciri, you hear me?" Kain pulled her into a sitting position, his eyes found her bleeding thigh. He sucked in a breath, pressing a palm down on it, closing his eyes. It took pain and more effort to concentrate; he persevered, but couldn't do more than just stop the bleeding. He was feeling woozy as he got to his feet and pulled her up. "Ciri? Can you walk?"

White-hot pain assaulted her senses and Ciri's eyes fluttered open to find Kain above her. She smiled. Seeing him was worth the discomfort of keeping her eyes open.

It took her a moment to register his question as he pulled her to her feet.

"Yes." Because she had no intention of being carried. Least of all not by him who was wounded as well. He looked awful. "Are… are the portals still coming?" she asked, limping awkwardly beside him and trying not to wince.

"Not as much, anymore… Maybe they had wasted their magic on it already – that would be too lucky to hope, but I do. It's been going on for a while."

He half-dragged her to the wall and into a narrow alley between the buildings, then recollected the map of the city in his head. He locked his eyes on hers.

"Do you remember where the Academy is? Can you go there? With your power? Find Dandelion and his medic friend. You need stitches or you'll bleed again – badly. See how they're doing – they had portals there and not enough guards. Triss had to pull out, and… I don't know if they're still all right. I need to get back to Geralt."

He pulled Swallow from the scabbard on his back and put it in her hand.

Her gaze fell to the blood on his side. "You need it just as much as I do. You're going to get yourself killed."

He shook his head urgently. "I'll be fine. Please, make sure they're fine. Help them. Please. They have no one. Just you." He pushed her sword-holding hand and stepped back. "I'll be fine. Promise. Go."

"Don't be a martyr," she warned, tightening the hold on her sword (which she had only just recognized as her own), and vanished.

He chuckled, wincing, and hurried back to the market square.

Geralt was easy to spot, his sword blinking in silver flashes too quick to watch, holding off two Riders and a hound.

Kain pulled a dagger from his belt and threw into the hound's neck, making it howl and stagger back, its paws clumsily scratching at the dagger buried deep in the flesh, its icy spikes shooting from the ground abruptly as it howled and yapped.

Kain slashed at one of the Riders' swords, redirecting the blow from Geralt while the Witcher focused on the other one and finished him in three quick slashes.

"Ciri?"

"She's back," Kain said, catching his breath, his hand unwittingly pressing into the aching side. "Her leg cut, but she'll be fine. I sent her to Dandelion."

Geralt took a wild look around, turning. "How many more are there?"

"More than we could hope for," Kain responded, spotting new reinforcements arriving from back alleys. From the woods, he imagined. Where he left some portals unattended. "Not enough bombs—"

"Dammit," Geralt hissed again. "Gotta tell Yen."

They didn't finish deciding who would tell Yen, for a bright glow enveloped one of the arrived Riders' units and exploded around them. Kain and Geralt ducked, covering their eyes. Kain heard chanting and sought the source with his squinted eyes. Avallac'h stood tall on one of the roofs around the square, his arms spread as he chanted another spell and sent it on the heads of another group – hounds this time.

"Good timing," Geralt muttered. Both witchers engaged the group running from the main street. The Elf's spells and Triss's fire rained around them while they crushed their blades against the enemies'.

* * *

Ciri arrived outside the square of the Academy. Her thinking had been that if the city itself was littered with Riders, this place would be no different. Especially if they knew of the people hiding inside.

She was right. Though there had surely been more of the elves earlier in the night, a few still lingered, attacking everything and everyone in their line of vision who did not wear their Hunt armor.

The dead were everywhere, as were the injured. Most of them were guards. But there seemed to also be a few civilians. Innocents who did not deserve their gruesome fate and who fueled Ciri's desire for vengeance. It gave her the strength she needed to continue fighting, despite her wounded leg which was oozing more and more blood whenever she was forced to put her weight on it.

She took full advantage of her power, letting the momentum of her travel through space do the heavy work, her sword always poised to slash at her target as she whooshed past them. Some fell dead immediately. Others did not. Their armor protected them, forcing Ciri to continue her assault while also defending herself and those few humans who were injured but still alive.

While she fought, she thought she could see Triss and a few others up on the Academy walls. But she did not have enough time to stop and make sure. She only had one priority now.

When there appeared to be a lull in new Riders in the Academy courtyard, Ciri stopped, leaning heavily on her sword which was poised on the cobblestones beneath her. She was tired and without any immediate danger in sight, her adrenaline was waning.

"Dande–... Dandelion?" she called towards the closed front door, her breathing heavy. "Are you all alright in there?"

"I'm here, Ciri! Here! I'm coming!" Dandelion rushed along the wall, bombs still in his hands, Shani close on his heel. They ran down the stairs and across the yard. Shani fell back trying to determine who was dead and whom she could still help.

"Ciri! Ciri, are you all ri-- Oh, you're bleeding! Shani! SHANI!" Dandelion wrapped an arm around Ciri's waist and led her cautiously toward a bench next to a destroyed flowerbed. "Here, sit down, carefully... good." He crouched before her, searching for more injuries.

Shani joined them, her eyes immediately locked on Ciri's bleeding thigh.

"Oh, it's a nasty one," she said and gave a meek smile of encouragement. "We need to get you inside. I'm Shani, a medic. Studied here some years ago."

"It's Ciri," Dandelion said. "Geralt's ward."

"Oh," Shani beamed. "Very honored to meet you. I've heard some wonderful things about you from this bard here."

She rummaged in her bag and produced a vial and a roll of bandages. She uncorked the vial and wet a piece of tissue she ripped from the roll, then held the vial over the wound.

"It's going to sting," she apologized and poured a little over the cut.

Despite it all, Ciri couldn't help but smile at Dandelion who fussed like a ruffled mother-hen. It was comical, but also filled her with a sense of affection for the man she considered family.

"It's fine. I am fine," she said, wincing not-so-subtly when Shani poured the solution over the open stab wound.

"There are others out there who need help more than I do."

Kain amongst others.

"Unfortunately we cannot go out until the attack is over," Dandelion said. "We can help no one if we get killed."

"No new portals here for quite some time now," Shani said, wrapping the wound in the tissue. "Maybe it's close to over."

"Their leaders have gone. I think most of the remaining Riders will be making their retreat if possible," Ciri said, shifting her hold on her sword before depositing it in its scabbard. "Can we do this quickly?" she asked Shani, gesturing to the wound. "It doesn't have to be pretty. I just need to get out there again."

Shani gave her a worried glance. "The wound is deep, but I can't tell how deep before I have a chance to examine it closer. It will need to be stitched and dressed properly. Best at my clinic, but if we are still stuck here, I... I shall see what I can do." She got up and jogged across the garden to a group of young people - probably medic students - that started to tend to the wounded.

"Thank you!" Ciri called after Shani as she went.

Civilians were reluctant to step outside.

She exchanged a few words with the students, arms waving to indicate their field of work and instructions, then headed back to the two.

"Have you seen Kain?" Dandelion asked. "Griffin? And how is Novigrad?"

"Griffin fetched me from Novigrad. There were no attacks there. They had us fooled." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Kain is wounded but he wouldn't leave Geralt's side. Sent me here to protect you and the medics. How's Triss?"

"Geralt's here?" Dandelion perked up. "Did you both... fly on the griffin?" He shook his head, confused.

"I assume he is here. I came before him." But Kain appeared to have seen him.

The bard cast a quick glance at the wall where Triss had been stationed before. "Triss went to help Kain. She's somewhere out there. Haven't you seen her? All that fire... she uses a lot of fire."

Ciri followed Dandelion's gaze. "She must be up high. I did not see her in the streets."

Dandelion winced. "Given the hell we found ourselves in, being on the streets kills you."

Shani crouched in front of Ciri and coaxed the girl to stretch her wounded leg a bit.

"I'll stitch you here, but if you really plan on fighting with that wound, I strongly recommend you don't. The bleeding could kill you very quickly. And then I won't be able to look Geralt in the eye - which I still hope to do when all this is over." She smiled nervously and unwrapped the wound, wiping carefully the oozing blood. "I have no anesthesia here," she warned.

Ciri watched the young woman with momentary confusion before realization struck. She was one of Geralt's girls? Good gods, that man had women everywhere! If Shani weren't just about to do Ciri a huge favor, she might have rolled her eyes in exasperation.

She didn't respond to the medic's advice, but braced herself, hands clutching the edges of the bench she was seated on. And when she could do no more to prepare herself, she gave Shani a nod of approval, allowing her to begin.

Shani dipped the bent needle in the vial, then threaded it and began to work, her expert movements indicated her intention to make it as quick and gentle as possible.

Dandelion winced and looked away, his eyes traveling around the once beautiful and blooming garden of the Academy inner court that used to inspire its students. Now it was a sorry sight with bodies and broken trees and flowers everywhere. Some wonderful marble statues and benches inherited by the city from the elven people that had built the foundation of Oxenfurt were broken and crushed. Dandelion shook his head slowly in lament.

"What a horrible night..."

The sky was beginning to turn pink with the upcoming dawn.

Ciri closed her eyes as Shani worked, her jaw set tightly. The pain was far worse than she had anticipated. It had been quite some time since she'd received a 'human' treatment for her wounds. Usually, Avallac'h would slap on some sort of salve and use his magic, chanting for hours to help her heal. This was different.

"If we don't fight back, every night will be like this," she lamented quietly, wincing. "There will be only death."

Shani frowned, "Don't say it like that. We still live. We will help those who survived. We need to think of life. If we think of death - everything is already lost, and there is no point in my profession."

Ciri shrugged. "Actually, this view greatly motivates me to keep fighting. Reminds me what is at stake."

"Good," Shani approved. "Giving up is not what life should be about." She finished her work and cut the thread, then unrolled more bandage tissue and made a dressing. "I'll need to see you at the Clinic to put a herbal salve on," she said. "Be careful with it. It can still bleed if you move too much."

"She won't," Dandelion said, giving Ciri a warning look of a stern father. "She will behave, or Geralt will be disappointed."

Ciri nodded at Shani. "Thank you." Then snorted at Dandelion. "That doesn't work on me, you know?"

She stood, careful not to put any real weight on her injured leg.

"I need to go find them. Make sure they are alright. Kain will need treatment as well. If he'll agree to it. I'll try to bring them and any other wounded here."


	47. Chapter 47

Yennefer had moved from where she'd disposed of the hounds to Triss's side in a blink of an eye. There wasn't time for conventional methods of travel. Triss looked close to collapsing, her features deathly pale, blood coating her upper lip, dried against her skin, frost clouds expelling from her nose as if she were a bull.

"Rest," Yennefer said.

Triss didn't argue, grateful for the presence of her old friend on the battlefield. Even if personally they were at odds, professionally Triss trusted Yennefer enough to know that she'd watch her back and vice versa.

For a time, they remained on the sidelines, Yennefer tossing around temporary shields, anticipating attacks on those innocents she could help and her companions, anchoring of The Wild Hunt with magic until they could be properly dispatched of by sword, flame, or some spell from Avallac'h.

This went on and on until eventually she shifted closer, physically inserting herself beside the only elf on their side.

"Their forces are dispersing," the Sage said, his eyes on the market square. "The assault is almost over."

"We shouldn't let them get away."

"I don't believe any of the attackers did. However, it wouldn't be amiss to check the perimeter - around the city, as well."

"I'll make a sweep. Stay close to my family."

Yennefer didn't wait to hear Avallac'h's retort before stepping through a portal, carrying herself to the banks where she'd seen some Riders before. She didn't want to waste time giving them the opportunity to recoup or make their escape. If there happened to be any alive.

Avallac'h cast a lazy gander at the portal that opened and closed next to him, then returned his attention to the square. The battle, indeed, seemed to be over; Geralt and Kain coursed around the market searching for survivors. There weren't many among the Redanians.

Dijkstra made an appearance with three soldiers of his guard and seemed very preoccupied and angry.

When Fringilla found her way to Geralt and Kain, there were no more Hunt Riders left to kill and the two witchers were engaged by Sigismund Dijkstra. The Redanian Chancellor was very unhappy about the mess and destruction.

"All the wounded must be tended to immediately," Sigi commanded. "There are enough medic students at the Academy, I believe. You," he turned to one of his guards, "go there and make them move! There are people dying here!"

The guard bowed and galloped away; Sigi turned to approaching footfalls that belonged to Fringilla.

A wry smile creased his mouth. "Are you all here once it's over?" he inquired with an acrimonious rise of an eyebrow. "Where were you when it all began? All your magic was good for nothing. Have you left Novigrad undefended?"

Fringilla paid no mind to his mockery and nodded in greeting to the witchers. "Phil and Rita are there, as well as Zoltan and every soldier, witch hunter and temple guard left to defend the city. If there is anything to happen there at all."

"Oh, now you begin to analyze their cunning?" Sigi scoffed. "Charming." He sized Geralt up with a derisive glare. "Where is that elf of yours who should have enlightened us about their strategies?"

"I don't believe he likes to enlightened anyone about anything," Geralt said, folding his arms. "He was here helping us, however."

"Not that he helped much," Sigi noted. "You certainly fail at picking allies, Witcher. You always have."

"Don't let your poison give you an ulcer, Sigismund," Fringilla said, smiling sweetly.

Dijkstra pinched his lips and turned the horse around, trotting toward the main street.

Fringilla gave the witchers a cursory look. Both had scratches and cuts, the younger one's side was bleeding. "You need some medical attention. I can help."

"No," Kain said. "I'll do it myself."

"You better hurry," Geralt said. "It's a lot of blood. Your shirt is soaked."

"Been worse. It's not as bad as it looks. We have to check on Ciri and Dandelion."

Fringilla sighed. "I'll go see how Triss is. She's spent a lot of power."

"I suppose the attack is over," Geralt estimated. "You should take Triss back to Novigrad and aid her there."

"I'm sure she will be willing to aid the wounded here," Fringilla said. "When she feels better."

Geralt nodded and touched her shoulder. "Thank you."

Fringilla smiled warmly. "It's nothing."

She walked away, and the brothers headed for the Academy bridge.

"Is there anyone you haven't touched?" Kain asked, amused.

Geralt allowed the smallest of smiles. "More than you think. But we barely meet those."

"The world is too small for a witcher," Kain jibed and winced in pain as they laughed.

* * *

Yennefer made a systematic check of the area around Oxenfurt, finding that some of the travelling merchants had been caught in the crossfire, their wares spread out on the road, their horses dead beside them.

She sorted through their belongings for anything useful and then returned to town, catching up to Kain and Geralt on the bridge.

The structure had not taken damage, thankfully. As it seems the Wild Hunt's main objective was to massacre as many people as they could.

They'd certainly succeeded.

The part that baffled Yennefer was how it had ended and why they'd pulled back without an appearance from Eredin. What had happened?

"How many have we lost?"

Geralt looked at her, bewildered. "You think we had any chance to count? It's the first time we get to catch our breath."

"It's a lot more than we can count in one go," Kain said. "You should've seen it yourself from the rooftops. Civilians and soldiers alike. Elves are better fighters."

The inner yard of the Academy was not in a better state than the market square they had left behind. Lots of fallen soldiers lay next to fallen Riders and their hounds. Statues and benches cracked and broken.

"Ciri," Geralt called, catching sight of her and his friend. "Dandelion!"

Ciri turned her head to look at Geralt once she heard his voice, a smile automatically claiming her lips. He looked unharmed for the most part. She hobbled over to him and gave him a quick hug, seeking out Yennefer next.

Yennefer frowned, fussing over the damage to Ciri's leg. "How bad is it?"

"Taken care of," Ciri said, and shrugged. "Mostly."

Dandelion had trailed behind Ciri to join them as well. He didn't move to embrace Geralt but he did grin.

"You missed a performance of a lifetime from me. Both on and off the stage." He imitated throwing one of the bombs, his lute bouncing on his back as he grinned at his friend. "You guys made it in a nick of time, too. Kain and Triss were doing all the heavy lifting, but we were biting at the bit."

Ciri's gaze fell on Kain. "Let them help you now," she said, gesturing to Shani and the medical students. "At least allow them to clean your wound before it gets infected."

"There's no point in anyone else doing anything when I'll do better," Kain responded, and looked down at her leg. "I'll do that one first, though." He surveyed the court. "Where is Triss?"

"Back in the city," Geralt said. "Helping the wounded." His eyes met Shani's when she approached and stood by Ciri, smiling. He smiled back with recognition, "Shani! Long time. I'm glad you're all right."

She beamed. "Geralt, still the charmer. I'm more than all right, have my own Clinic in the city - if it still stands... And reading lectures here at my alma mater. I have to tend to the wounded and make sure no one's left forgotten." She smiled apologetically at all of them. "I'm very glad to see you all unharmed, um... relatively."

She reached to Kain's side, and it took an effort on his part to not step back.

"Oh, it's still bleeding," she said. "We need to tend t—"

"No need," Kain said firmly. "I heal with magic. You should help Triss with others."

Shani looked surprised and a bit doubtful. "If you're certain… Find me if you need my help." She gave both witchers a charming smile and went away.

"Don't be daft," Ciri said. "I'll not permit your aid until you have healed yourself. I refuse to be the cause of you losing consciousness and probably dying.

"Besides, I have already been patched up by Shani." She looked to Yennefer to reassure her. "It is nothing. Just a flesh wound. Are you alright? Geralt?"

"I'm fine," Geralt assured. "Just a few scratches. I've arrived near the end. I wish we could come sooner."

"Either you want me to help you or you want to be bedridden," Kain argued, peering at Ciri. "It went down to the bone. You can't walk if you want to live."

"He's right, Ciri," Geralt said. "We need to find you a bed. Or better take you back to Novigrad." He looked to Yennefer.

"And yet, I am not the one still bleeding," Ciri argued, eyeing Kain's side pointedly.

Her voice softened slightly. "Put yourself first for once. Please."

"How can we be sure that Eredin won't attack there next?"

"It depends on where Eredin is," Avallac'h said, approaching. "They shall not act without his command."

"Where did you take him?" Kain asked Ciri.

"Somewhere dark, cold, wet," she said. "I don't know the name of the world. A rock in the middle of a black ocean. A place I have never been to before. It will take them some time to find him."

"That would be very beneficial for us," Geralt said. "I hope they never find him."

"I would not count on that," Avallac'h commented.

"They'll find him," Ciri agreed. "But not today."

"Then it's over for now," Yennefer stated.

Dandelion looked relieved by the news. They looked around, listening to some of the people crying as they were tended to, taking in the aftermath of the chaos.

"That's a relief," Dandelion said, breathing at as if he'd been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I'm going to stay – help with whatever I can."

"Fringilla Vigo stated the sorceresses of the Lodge shall help rebuild," Avallac'h shared impassively. "They were discussing it with Triss Merigold as I passed. I assume the Redanian Chancellor has tasked them with it already."

"Yennefer, please, take Ciri back to Novigrad and make sure she lies down," Geralt said, eyeing his ward with a mixture of worry and admiration. "We shall stay a bit longer to make sure everyone is tended to and there are no stray Riders left."

Ciri made a noise of objection and pointed at Kain. "What about him? He shouldn't be out wandering the streets and swinging swords any more than I!"

Geralt smirked, "No one lets him swing any swords, don't worry."

"You don't look much better yourself," Kain shot him a look with a ghost of mocking.

Geralt pretended to frown defensively, "It's the potion. It'll pass."

"Oh, please," Ciri scoffed. "If that were me," she pointed to Kain again, "you'd all have strapped me into a bed already and would be force-feeding me soup right now. Shift some of that attention onto the wounded one, will you?"

"I'm fine," Kain repeated. "I wasn't stabbed to the bone and continuing to jump around swaying swords. I can manage it."

"No. You were just slashed by a huge sword and had your legs frozen," Ciri countered, her annoyance growing the more Kain refused to admit he was actually hurt.

"Let's stop arguing and turn to the more important tasks," Geralt said. "Yennefer and Ciri return back, and we here shall lick our wounds and help others."

"Sounds reasonable enough," Avallac'h agreed.

"There's no need for us to go back as of yet," Yennefer argued. "We can help."

"Ciri needs to lie down before she rips the stitches," Kain said.

"I shall tend to her upon my return this night," Avallac'h promised.

"Let's go," Ciri said, her eyes narrowed in anger, looking to Yennefer before limping to the place she expected a portal would be opened.

Yennefer made no move outright to produce a portal, giving Kain time to trail after Ciri to explain and apologize for brushing off her concerns. Which he didn't do.

"If anyone needs to return home to rest – it's Triss." The last time Yennefer had seen her she'd been near death. She also knew Fringilla was taking care of Triss but wanted to check in herself.

"Give me five minutes."

With that, she broke away from the small group in search of the redhead.

Geralt caught her by the arm. "Fringilla helped her, she's fine now. You need to take Ciri to the inn, she can't be allowed to walk any longer."

"I'll take myself," Ciri interjected. "Find Triss and make sure she is alright."

She vanished in a flash of green before anyone could argue further, and appeared in her room at the inn. She cautiously lowered herself to her bed where she sat, undoing her weapons and the clasps on her armor. The streets outside were still eerily silent. They wouldn't be for long, she suspected.

Geralt sighed, releasing Yennefer's arm, and looked at Kain. "Let's go back. You need to heal and we should check the perimeter."

Kain nodded, and they started away after Dandelion who got ahead.

When Yennefer found Triss, the latter had her head bent close to Fringilla as if the two were whispering, when in actual fact they were sharing energy.

Similar thing that Kain had done for Yennefer at the Nilfgaardian prison and after.

"We're heading back to Novigrad," Yennefer informed them, unperturbed when they didn't break apart or acknowledge her presence.

"What about Oxenfurt?" Triss asked.

"Ciri put Eredin somewhere dark so the Wild Hunt shouldn't be back for a while."

Triss's features filled with relief and she removed her hands from Fringilla's, allowing the other sorceress to start a bit recovery of her own so that she'd be able to travel. Yennefer helped Triss to her feet, looked her over and then dismissively stepped aside, summoning a portal so that she could go after Ciri.

"I'll see you back in Novigrad."

Yennefer disappeared and arrived back in Geralt's room within a minute. She gave the room a once-over, moved toward the window to make sure the city wasn't on fire or frozen over before she went in search Ciri. Yennefer made her way to her bedroom, rose a fist to the door and—unlike other times—knocked gently.

"Ciri?"

Ciri had managed to remove one boot. The other was more complicated as leaning over her injured thigh proved to be quite painful.

She bit back a groan of pain when the knock sounded on her door and lifted her head.

"Yes?"

Yennefer entered the bedroom, forgoing closing the door behind her since there was no one else in the inn. She crouched down in front of Ciri and helped her remove the boot she'd seen her struggling.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. A little sore." Ciri leaned back, hands braced behind her on the mattress. "You?"

"Fine."

Yennefer wasn't referring to her injury. That was life for them.

"I meant Eredin. You teleported him. Alone. You want to talk about it?"

Ciri frowned subtly, unsure of what Yennefer was fishing for. "We jumped, we landed, had a scuffle, I left. Not much more to say really. I didn't even speak to him."

Yennefer measured Ciri's answer, nodding lightly.

"That was perilous. I thought the plan was to steer clear of him – why the change of heart?"

"He had Kain," Ciri said simply as if that explained everything.

Yennefer wasn't happy with her answer, but given what she knew of Ciri's feelings toward him, she understood. "Are you hungry?"

"A little," Ciri admitted, shifting where she sat in order to pull her trousers off. They'd become stiff with dried blood and would need to be mended before she could use them again. "Wouldn't mind some wine." She paused, peering at Yennefer. "Have you seen Zoltan? Is he alright?"

"I haven't been anywhere but here. I'll grab you some wine and bread and then go out to check on Zoltan."

He wasn't in any immediate danger as it was.

"Yennefer," Ciri called as the sorceress headed for the door, gifting her a grateful smile. "Thank you."

* * *

Yennefer didn't need to search for the dwarf, because Zoltan was in the kitchen rummaging through the sacks of potatoes and carrots and onions, intending to throw together dinner.

"Oh, Yennefer, yer back? How is everyone?" He turned to her, worried. "No attacks here. Not even a hint of anything. The guards all over the city are bored out of their thick skulls."

"So you decided to come back to the inn to start dinner?" Yennefer didn't wait on his answer before continuing. "Everyone is in one piece. They're helping with casualties and making sure are no more of the Wild Hunt around. The Redanians aren't going to be bored much longer."

"I'm starvin," the dwarf admitted and went back to digging for vegetables. He got more and threw them together in a basin, then reached for the barrel with water to wash them. "How many casualties? Was it bad? We should've gone with ye, but who knows, maybe those bastards would come here, too." He rubbed the dirt off the potatoes rinsing them in water, and looked at the sorceress. "Think they would come? The Elf went after ye, far as I saw."

Yennefer found a knife and since they were talking, began to help him peel the vegetables as he washed them.

"That was my concern, too. Ciri took care of Eredin by teleporting him elsewhere in the middle of the battle, his mages fled afterwards, and we took care of the rest." She set aside the first potato, reaching into his bucket for another. "Avallac'h, too, seemed to have arrived in time. Are Philippa and Margarita still out there?"

"Aye, still there… wherever they sit like hens on perches." Zoltan scooped the peeled vegetables and began to cut them quickly like a professional cook. "Is Ciri all right? That bastard didn't hurt her?"

"He did," Yennefer concluded. "But she was reckless in what she did. I'm only glad Ciri wasn't captured." She reached in for another potato, slicing at it more intently, and then moved onto the next. "Do you know if there is any wine left?"

"Aye, wine's in the cel— Wait, what?!" Zoltan stared at her, wide-eyed and angry. "What did he do to her?"

"Stabbed her in the leg. They've tended to her wound so she's upstairs resting it off."

Yennefer regarded the remainder of the potatoes, finishing them off, using the task as a means for a little self-reflection, and then moved to wipe her hands clean. "I'll go get the wine. I assume there's still a bit of fresh bread left?"

"It ain't fresh," Zoltan scoffed, cutting the remaining potatoes and throwing them in the pan with warmed oil. "Fresh needs to be baked and we've been too busy. Get the wine, and I'll bring the food when it's ready. Tell her we'll get his arse kicked for what he did to our girl."

The dinner came together rather swiftly, even though expanded to three people instead of the intended one. Zoltan brought two trays upstairs, balancing them comically, almost making Ciri laugh. He gave her a hug, reassuring her the bastard elf would get an arse-kicking of his eternal lifetime, then left the two alone.

He ate downstairs as fast as he could and returned to the streets in case the elves showed up for their arse-kicking immediately.

No one did, and the sky began to lighten up.

Yennefer finished off her meal, waiting until Ciri had polished her own and then carried the trays downstairs to the kitchen.

She didn't want to leave Ciri all alone at the inn, and returned to Geralt's room, giving the girl time to herself so that she could rest.

* * *

Kain made only one circle around the hills and fields surrounding Oxenfurt, but the land seemed clear. Perhaps the Riders truly called off whatever remained of their troops when their leader and his mage disappeared. Kain certainly hoped so. He directed Griffin to land, then slipped off the beast's back and gestured for him to go back into hiding. The smart animal was reluctant to go this time. He'd never failed to listen before, but now he croaked in protest and kept close. He smelled Kain's blood and it made him too anxious to leave.

Kain was conflicted between annoyance fueled by fear for Griffin's wellbeing and being deeply touched. He stepped into his friend, leaning into his chest and stroking his feathers and fur. The Griffin stilled, nipping at his shoulder affectionately.

"You can't stay," Kain murmured into the feathers. "I can't let you get hurt again, all because of me. You need to go." He closed his eyes, relaying the silent message to follow the words the beast did not understand.

When he detached and stepped back, gesturing up once again, Griffin shook his head, croaking, but obeyed and took off. He circled around two more times before finally departing in the direction of Novigrad. To his cave.

I never took him to battles before, Kain thought, watching the griffin turn into a dot on the dawning sky. There hadn't been too many battles, either, except for troubles around Brokilon.

Despite how it had turned out in the last battle Kain fought for Brokilon, he never regretted not taking Griffin to it. Losing Morénn was bad, but losing Griffin would have been impossible.

_Because it'd be my fault._

He strolled past the village huts toward the road lying between two hills, then stopped for a moment, surveying the fields to the right. It seemed empty, no dark figures lurked in the small sea of gold the field would look like under the sun. It was a quiet moment of the night when it barely crept into the dawn, and birds had not begun to wake up yet. The small village on the narrow isle between the city and the land was very quiet and dark, too. Simple people knew to stay indoors until the storms passed and the sun came back to the sky. Luckily, the main attacks had been aimed at the city itself.

Kain turned and went along the shore to the left, away from the fields. The walk took a bit; he strolled slowly, trying to make the steps as quiet as possible. Something was bothering him, and he couldn't put a finger on it. The patch of land east of Oxenfurt wasn't particularly rich in forests, but the steep hills with trees on and around them made the area a difficult one to scout. On one of the hills, there was a herbalist's hut.

The hut was dark, quiet. As if abandoned. However, there was a cart under the shed, and the flowerbeds around the blue house were clean of weeds.

Kain almost turned to be on his way when he sensed it, first in his feet, then up in his legs, as if hands of invisible ice stroked his bones making them ache. Just like when the Mage cast his Frost spell.

Kain pulled his sword out in a swift habitual motion and watched a pair of hounds emerge from behind the hut, snarling, their spikes bristled. The ground where they walked misted with frost, the flowers turned stiff and broke like thin glass beneath their paws.

The third mutt growled, stalking from behind the nearest bush, when the door opened and a small, sobbing figure rolled out and over the threshold as if kicked. The crying figure resembled a child, only it wasn't.

"Please, please!" the halfling implored, weeping and cowering in the dirt. "Please don't kill me! Please! Mercy! I beg you!"

A Rider stepped over him coming outside, another followed, and another. More approached the hut from the surrounding trees, another pair of hounds with them.

Kain suddenly felt so tired he could just fall down next to the desperate herbalist and pass out. It would be a bliss! His side was gnawing and nagging, his muscles ached from the previous extensive workout. Flexing his fingers on his sword handle, he admitted to himself he didn't have it in him to win this.

Not seven Riders and their five hounds against one witcher. Not at this very moment.

He heard a chuckle, a strange sound coming from a heavy helmet, muffled, and yet hollow.

"You aim to die?" the Rider asked, his head canting in either amusement or interest. "You are to surrender, or this one dies." He pointed his sword at the cowering halfling. The latter cowered into a tighter ball, howling in terror. The hounds snarled.

The scene smelled of a dream. Something was ringing distantly in Kain's ears, and there was a strange light feeling within his head, and something pressed on his temples from the inside. He squelched the urge to laugh at how stupid this all was. How stupid he'd been.

He began to lower his sword.

* * *

Dandelion caught up with Geralt as the Witcher was finishing his reckon stroll along the western side of the city.

"Geralt, the students are helping carry the wounded to the clinic. But any pair of hands is useful - too many wounded and lots of dead. Almost all the Redanians fell. Dijkstra is raging - his face is red and bloated as the setting sun."

"All right. I'm coming. How is Triss?"

"She's fine, Fringilla helped with her magic. They're aiding the most dreadfully wounded ones, and the rest are on Shani and her assistants."

Geralt smiled. "Shani barely changed."

Dandelion shrugged. "Six years have passed. But you're right. Must be her knowledge of herbal medicine.

"Where is Kain?"

"He went to check the eastern shore and heal his wound."

"And you didn't go with him?" Dandelion looked at the Witcher in wonder. "If it were Ciri, you'd never let her out of sight, especially wounded."

"It's different, Dandelion. He's never been my responsibility, and she's been my ward."

"You don't worry about him?"

"I do, but he won't appreciate my imposed worry."

They reached the market square where the medic students were tending to the wounded ones and carrying the dead away to prepare for burial. Dandelion stopped next to him. "What?"

Geralt's eyes were set at the street leading for the Novigrad Gate. His brow furrowed.

Something was amiss.

"Geralt, what is—"

"I think you were right, Dandelion," the Witcher muttered and set off running down the street, leaving Dandelion staring after him.

"Geralt! What's going on?!"

After a moment's thought, the troubadour ran after the Witcher.

* * *

Ciri was close to finishing her bottle when there was a soft knock on her door. Whoever was on the other side did not wait for her to invite them in. Though cloaked by darkness in the corridor outside, Margarita's face registered on Ciri's mind.

She pushed herself up on her elbows, not scared of the sorceress' presence, but ever wary.

"The dwarf said you had been injured. Did not mention you were bedridden, though," Margarita said, slowly entering the room. Unlike Triss, Fringilla, and Yennefer who had all been forced to partake in the battle in various ways, Margarita's appearance was pristine.

"His name is Zoltan," Ciri said groggily.

The sorceress did not seem to have heard. "Triss and Fringilla are not yet back."

It wasn't a question and yet Ciri thought she detected a hint of concern in Margarita's voice.

"They're alright," Ciri assured her, falling back against her pillows with a wince. "If they are not here, I assume they are helping the wounded back in Oxenfurt. There were a lot. Where is Philippa?"

"Elsewhere," Margarita's lips curved up in a secretive smile, her eyes soft in the semi-darkness as she examined Ciri on her bed. "The king did that to you?"

Ciri grunted a confirmation.

"Strange. I would have thought he wanted you unharmed."

"Alive. Not unharmed."

Margarita's smile turned thin. "We would have never done that to you. If you had accepted our offer and joined us, The Lodge–"

"Please don't start that again," Ciri sighed. "I'm tired and in no mood."

To her surprise, the sorceress did not persist.

Instead, Margarita gestured to the bandage strapped around Ciri's leg. "Would you like me to look at that for you? I might be able to offer some relief."

She'd started towards the bed but Ciri held out a hand.

"No. I mean… no, thank you."

Margarita stopped in her tracks. "You don't trust me." Again, it was not a question.

For some reason, a reason that could come from nothing else but her royal upbringing of always being polite and gracious, Ciri felt a twinge of guilt. But it was the truth.

"No. There's always a price with The Lodge. I have nothing more to offer."

Margarita looked saddened by this, but she did not deny the statement. "There will come a time when you need to trust us, Ciri. We want nothing but what is best for you."

Ciri turned her gaze back to the ceiling as the sorceress made for the door again. "Until I see any evidence of that, this is all I can give you."

* * *

The tip of the Rider's sword was toying with the cowering, weeping halfling, pricking his shoulders, sides and thighs. The halfling, huddled up into a tight crying ball, yapped and shivered and jerked, obviously amusing the Riders – they didn't have to take their helmets off to sell it out.

"Stop it," Kain said, stabbing his sword into the ground. "I surrender. Let him go unharmed. Right now."

"I do not believe you can set any conditions," one of the Riders said in a muffled, metallic voice. Like a djinn speaking from a bottle.

"What then?" Kain asked.

"You go with us where we say."

"He goes free first."

The Rider's boot touched the halfling's knee; the small man cried harder, jerking.

"I do not think he is in a hurry," the Rider commented. The hounds growled and snarled, still looking bristled. Their small red eyes focused on Kain, expecting him to run so they could attack. Their icy spikes were gleaming and bristling, their claws digging into the frosted soil.

Frost…

Kain felt a chill thrust through his spine, and his body ached in recollection of the spell that had locked around him earlier on the Market Square. It was as if some cold from that was still lingering in his joints and muscles, reminding him how useless fighting these enemies was.

The Rider stepped closer and reached for the sword sticking in the ground. Kain felt a physical pang in his gut at the mere gesture and tensed, pondering options. There were no safe variations to ponder – not while the halfling was still amongst the elves.

The metal glove of the Rider's hand clanged softly touching the sword's handle when something rang like breaking crystal, and the very air around them sparkled and glowed, greenish lightning lines zinged between them, starling the Riders and the hounds.

Kain used the pause to snatch the sword from under the Rider's hand and stab it into the elf's neck under the helmet. The movement was fast, fueled by adrenaline of the momentum, and he rushed past the Rider before the latter's body began to slump. Kain slashed through the two hounds closest to the howling halfling.

"Get inside!" he yelled at the herbalist. "To the basement! NOW!"

The halfling scurried over the threshold of his hut and slammed the door closed behind him with one of his feet, slithering across the floor like an eel.

Kain dodged a hound and ran his sword through another one, then turned and kicked at one of the remaining two while his blade slashed the third's head off. He finished the remaining one and clashed with two Riders; the dimeritium bomb's powder was beginning to settle and lose its bind.

A bright flash momentarily blinded Kain and stunned the Riders. They staggered, their hands reaching for the helmets, their swords swaying aimlessly as if swatting at a bunch of angry wasps attacking them. Kain used their disarray once again and slain four before the spell wore off.

He rolled from under a Rider's blow and stilled for a mere moment, his fingers digging into the frosted earth, his eyes closing to focus. Two swords were coming down on him when a powerful pulse sent the three Riders around him flying back. Kain jumped up, ignoring the liquid heat in his side and its pains, the adrenaline still working for another few moments. He threw a hand forth, setting the closest Rider on fire, and as he staggered back, screeching and cooking inside his armor, Kain parried and met the other two's swords. He couldn't muster another telekinetic blast, nor summon flames. It was just the good old swordplay left, and his rush was faltering.

He missed a blow – it landed across his shoulder; and then another one right after it that cut over his side, above the already bleeding wound. Kain grunted, rolled away, got up and felt his legs shaking in exhaustion.

Another flash stunned the Hunters momentarily while they moved to attack, and Kain was able to stab one in the neck and another under his breastplate. The elves fell down and Kain stayed on one knee, panting, staring at one spot on the ground that blurred before his eyes. His sword was propped against the ground, holding him upright.

"Impressive," Avallac'h commented, strolling from the trees and bushes that had concealed him before. "Even with my help."

"It's what you did during the battle, wasn't it," Kain uttered quietly, catching his breath. "You merely stunned them. You don't kill your kin."

"They follow an ill-chosen leader who's tricked them, lied to them, misled them. Why should I blame them for being misled?"

Kain didn't respond; he tipped back to sit and lean against the hut's wall, letting go of the sword's handle he had been holding onto. He fought to keep his eyes open, his body ached and shivered, he felt cold. Very cold. It seeped into his bones from the ground and spread like venom.

"You don't look like someone who is fine," Avallac'h remarked. If his tone wasn't so even and impassive, Kain would swear it was sarcasm. A naked, gleeful elvish brand of sarcasm.

"You better believe it," he muttered, and closed his eyes, laying his palms on the cold soil on either side of his thighs.

He breathed deeper through the pain and chill, concentrated on drawing the air in and letting it out. In and out. And then the warmth began to seep in, to dawn within his chest and flow through his palms and arms, gradually, steadily.

When he opened his eyes, his side didn't hurt as much and wasn't bleeding, but the wound hadn't skinned over. Avallac'h was watching him attentively but made no move to help him up.

"The Frost spell lingers in you," he said matter-of-factly. "It got into your blood through the open wound, and you cannot get rid of it as easily. You'll have to use fire. Magical fire."

"I know."

Wincing, Kain sheathed his sword and put some distance between himself and the hut – the halfling needed not to hear anything. Avallac'h followed.

"Why are you here?" Kain stopped on the slope of the hill and looked the elf in the eyes, scrutinizing. "You knew they lingered. What else do you know about their plans? Locations?"

Avallac'h showed no emotion, peering back at the Cat Witcher without any reservation. "We all know their plans – they're after Hen Ichaer. It's Zireael. It's you."

"You mean both of us. It's not just either-or, anymore. They know about me from the Crone?"

"Correct."

"I can't teleport like Ciri. Maybe I don't have that power."

"You do – or you wouldn't have been at the Witcher School. You jumped back in time."

"I wouldn't be able to repeat it."

"You do not know that." The smallest of smiles touched Avallac'h's mouth. "There are ways to recreate the state you were in while teleporting. You can learn to do it consciously. Only you do not want to."

"That is right, I don't."

"That is too bad, for there is nothing to save you if they ever corner you like a silly rabbit again."

Kain squinted with a dark knowing, searching the Sage's eyes. "If that is their plan, there is close to nothing to make me surrender."

"You just have, shortly ago."

"I'd die before they took me."

"Ambitious," Avallac'h drawled. "But then again, you are of Aen Elle. You are ambitious. And arrogant."

"I'm not one of you."

"But you are. As pure a blood as there can be in two worlds."

"I'm of humans, Elf. You all are mistaken."

"Your human part gave you some of her magic that you learned to wield. It is an advantage rather than a defect, I see. A good addition to your natural abilities. It is a step up."

"I'm no good to your people if I don't cooperate."

Avallac'h narrowed his eyes. "You think Zireael was weak and let herself be manipulated? Perhaps a part of it is true, nevertheless, Aen Elle always find the right argument to convince. Do you truly believe there are none to use for your stubbornness?"

A chilly, unpleasant sensation combed through Kain's nerves, like a foreboding upon noticing a very bad sign. He was silently peering into the Sage's serene face, deciphering what lay in the hints and puzzles of his speech.

"You are Aen Elle," he said in a very quiet voice after a few beats of their staring game. "Your world is dying. Those," he gestured briefly back at the hill, "are your people, dying for not the wrong king as much as the cause you – Avallac'h – find noble and right. Necessary. Vital. You are behind all this as much as Eredin or whoever else that could or would replace him. This war is yours as much as any Aen Elle's."

Avallac'h said nothing, nor a muscle twitched in his meditative face.

Kain began to smile, a devoid of humor kind of smile that stems from an unpleasant discovery. "Eredin wants Ciri, and if he cannot get Ciri, he would want me. You, however, want us both. Because you know it's the most effective option and you would have none other. Neither of us would agree to this. What do you hope for? What are you really waiting for, Sage?"

The Sage smiled a little, barely a twitch in the corners of his mouth. "Why don't you tell me? You seem to think you are smart enough to know. A conniving mind breeds the best plots. What is it I am waiting for, in your opinion?"

"Trick question. Nice evasion. You are so good at it. As well as waiting. If Ciri and I develop feelings, you get us right where you want us. Bound by love and incapable of escaping your net. Two for the price of one. The most effective solution."

"She already follows you everywhere, does she not?" Avallach's eyes twinkled, reflecting the dawning sky. "If the Riders catch you, she will follow, and no amount of convincing would keep her back from that act. Why you believe it would be _my_ fault is beyond me, though."

Kain clenched his jaw contemptuously. "You're not with her to protect. You're with her like an agent of Aen Elle, an inside spy who observes and waits for the best moment to put a plan in motion. To get the prize."

"Kain! Are you all right in there?"

They turned and saw Geralt jogging up to them, followed by Dandelion. The Witcher stopped and cast a confused glance at Avallac'h and a concerned one at Kain's side.

"Doesn't seem that you've succeeded. You're going to the Clinic with me." Geralt looked at Avallac'h again, his mien turned inquiring and suspicious. "What are you doing here?"

"There were a few Hunters hiding in the woods," the Sage said, clasping his hands behind his back nonchalantly. "Kainar took care of it. I believe none are left."

"We can't be sure," Kain added and jerked his chin toward the hill. "The herbalist was almost killed. Someone needs to check on him. To calm him down."

"I'll do it," Dandelion said, climbing the hill. "I prove to be a very comforting company to people."

"Halfling."

"And non-humans. I'll do it. Geralt, I would like you to wait for me… um… in case there are more."

"Yes, I'll be right up." Geralt looked at Kain sternly. "Go to the clinic. Please."

"Don't worry, I know how to treat it." Kain patted Geralt's shoulder, then glanced at Avallac'h who was strolling back toward the Novigrad Gate.

"What is the matter?" Geralt asked. "What did he tell you?"

"Nothing useful," Kain said. "He helped me fight."

"He followed you here?"

"He did. Interesting, isn't it?"

Geralt sighed, watching the Sage's retreating back. "Too many interesting things are piling up on his name recently."

"I need your help."

Geralt turned to him, concerned. "What do I do?"

Kain explained. They went behind the hut and a bit further while Dandelion was busy calming the herbalist, and Geralt made use of his Igni sign.

Kain gnashed his teeth tightly to not scream and alarm both the poet and the halfling further.

The wound finally skinned over.


	48. Chapter 48

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* * *

Ciri was slipping in and out of slumber when her door opened and Avallac'h swept inside. His blue robes were dirty, yet his face and hair carried no trace of the recent chaos.

He peered down at her a moment before taking a seat on the edge of her bed, peeling the bottle of wine from her hands despite her groan of objection. A leather bag rested over one of his shoulders. It was familiar. Ciri knew it contained various herbs and potions the Sage used for his magical endeavors.

"You faced Eredin," he said, undoing the bandages around Ciri's thigh. "That was careless."

Ciri swallowed, her mouth feeling very dry from all the alcohol. "It was necessary."

Avallac'h's fingers gently swept along the outer edges of her injury, his face twisted in displeasure. He didn't like the stitches. It was so barbaric compared to the Aen Elle's own teachings of medicine. "You risked your life."

He opened his bag and withdrew a vial of something that smelled foul, making Ciri briefly cover her nose.

"Just like everyone else in the battle."

"But you should not have," he said sternly, his cold eyes boring into hers for a few seconds before he cautiously allowed three drops of his tincture to fall atop her jagged wound. "You are not fodder for Eredin's soldiers. You are special."

Ciri barely held back a cry of pain, her eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched as she tried to breathe through the violent discomfort.

Avallac'h, who had treated many of Ciri's wounds before, though few as serious as this one, paid this no mind. Nor did he assure her it would be all right. He'd never believed in coddling children.

"You don't understand, do you?" Ciri retorted shakily, watching the elf with tired eyes. "Kain is special. Stronger. Wiser. Levelheaded. He is special! And if Eredin gets him, we have already lost."

Avallac'h paused his work just long enough to consider her, his expression thoughtful. "That is a very rash assumption. Kainar is indeed strong. Powerful. I doubt he would give into Eredin's demands so easily. If I remember correctly, you spent your first eight days in our world rebelling against everything. Even our mere presence."

He corked the vial and put it back in the bag, rubbing his hands together as if to warm them before firmly placing them over Ciri's injury.

Once more, renewed pain assaulted her senses and she jerked beneath him, an instinctual movement she had not been able to initially stop. She inhaled deeply through her nose, trying to regain control of her body.

"Maybe… maybe he wouldn't have been given a choice," she breathed, her head falling back on her pillow, hands clenched to fists at her sides. No one had yet told her exactly how Eredin planned to make use of The Elder Blood. Would it require her willing participation or would the elves be able to simply force her hand? Perhaps spilling her blood at the exact right time and in the exactly right place would be enough? Enough to open a portal powerful enough to save the Aen Elle?

"Doubtful," Avallac'h commented, his own eyes closing as he focused on the task at hand – healing the unruly child.

* * *

It was long after dawn and well into the morning when two witchers and two sorceresses came to see Dijkstra on board of the royal ship the Redanian Chancellor and spy had inherited after King Radovid's untimely demise.

"How is it going with your cleaning up that mess?" he inquired, mostly directing it at Geralt.

"We've been working for hours along with the medics from the Clinic and the students," Triss said before the Witcher retorted. "The wounded have been our priority. Two dozen fatalities prevented by our timely aid. Every wounded soldier and civilian in need of a bed regime directed to the Clinic, but I'm afraid there is not enough space for everyone. Many are being treated at the Academy."

"You may rejoice," Geralt said. "Not all of your soldiers are dead despite your lack of helping them."

Sigismund grimaced derisively. "What would you have me do? Die among the first ones protecting your Cirilla? And what then, Witcher? Who would stand at the head of Redania? You? Phil?" He surveyed them in turn. "Half the city is damaged. It needs to be restored as soon as possible - as if nothing happened. Otherwise, people get reminded at all times of what had transpired, and you know what happens then. Questions, demands, riots. They already want to know the reason that happened to them and not Novigrad or Vizima or some other ploughing city. If we delay with restoration, I'll not be able to keep your little secret. I'll sic that mob at you myself."

"How generous it is of you to warn me," Geralt proffered a nasty smile.

"Don't mock me, Geralt," Dijkstra growled. "I'm not in the mood."

"Let us remain calm now," Triss stepped in with her gentle tone. "We have had a horrible night, and many people are dead. There need to be the funeral arrangements for the fallen. They died heroes protecting their land and their people."

"Of course," Dijkstra said, his mouth creased unpleasantly. "What do we know about those bastards, Geralt? Will they attack again and what can be done to stop them? Where is that Elf of yours?"

"He's not going to tell us anything we don't already know," the Witcher said. "He's not as informed as you think. They reside in another world where he is considered a traitor for helping Ciri. Their leader wouldn't inform him of their plans."

"So what are we supposed to do? Sit on our asses waiting for another attack?"

"They have used a lot of resources to arrange this one," Kain said. "Magic for opening gateways into our world is not an easy one to perform. It's been a while since their attack on Kaer Morhen. They needed time to recuperate. This time shouldn't be different. As far as we see, they still have only one navigator mage who directs their portals."

Dijkstra contemplated, scowling as he watched them.

"What with the restoration?" he asked again eventually.

"We shall aid with some," Fringilla contributed. "With Philippa and Margarita's assistance. We'll have to wait for them to join us here."

"It has to be done as soon as possible," Sigi said. "I'm not letting this keep me for longer than necessary. I need to get back."

"Remember your part," Triss said. "Not a word of Ciri."

"Fine, fine, whatever," Dijkstra waved a hand in annoyed dismissal. "Some magical bastards can attack for the sake of attacking. Like the monsters witchers fight. I don't want any panic. I shall tell them we won and drove the whoresons away. But if the said whoresons attack again, Geralt, we will have a problem that hardly a speech or two would fix. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you what scared people are capable of."

Geralt didn't respond, but his frown deepened and darkened.

With that, Dijkstra dismissed them.

* * *

Ciri's slumber was not a pleasant one. She slipped in and out of foggy consciousness, shivering and sweating in intervals. Avallac'h was there, pressing something cold to her forehead, momentarily soothing her, his long fingers gently caressing her cheek, trailing lower, tracing the curves of her body... Dream or reality? She did not know.

When she next woke, the elf was gone and Zoltan was making his way into her room. It was already light out.

"How ye doin', lassie?" Zoltan inquired, settling on a chair beside her bed after placing a tray on her nightstand.

"Tired," Ciri confessed, her voice sounding a little gruff.

Zoltan nodded and gestured for her to sit up. She obeyed.

"Yer elf told me ye had a fever last night. Ye'll need to get some food and water into ye."

He stirred the soup-bowl with a spoon before attempting to hand it to her. She did not take it, her brow furrowed.

"Are the others back?" She already knew the answer. Geralt would have been here with her if that was the case.

"Afraid not," Zoltan said with a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry. They'll be back soon enough."

"There must be a lot of work to do," Ciri mused. "A lot of wounded civilians and soldiers. I need to be there. I need to help."

She made to get up and Zoltan put a gentle but firm hand to her chest, pressing her back down.

"Oh, no, ye don't," he insisted. "Yer not well, Ciri. Geralt would have my head and Yennefer would kick me bollocks clean off my body. Yer staying here."

Ciri relented, only because she felt weak. Maybe after she had managed to eat something.

Zoltan helped her, saving her the inconvenience of having the tray on her lap. Food didn't taste as good as it usually would have, but she ate, nonetheless, because Zoltan's eyes shone a little brighter with every spoonful she swallowed.

When Ciri couldn't stomach any more and Zoltan prepared to leave her to rest, the door opened anew and Avallac'h strode inside, carrying a washbasin.

"Leave us, dwarf," he said, not even looking in Zoltan's direction.

Zoltan glared and Ciri suspected had his hands been free Avallac'h might have been sporting a bloodied nose. Instead, he left them and closed the door behind him.

"You can't talk to people like that," Ciri chided, though without her usual heat. She was too tired. "They are not your servants."

Avallac'h ignored her, settling on the edge of her bed and dipping a washcloth into the basin, wringing it before he used it to clean Ciri's face of blood and grime. Later he cleansed her hair.

"Remove your shirt."

"No."

"Zireael..."

"Turn around."

Avallac'h sighed impatiently but indulged her, allowing her some semblance of privacy as she undressed and removed the bindings around her chest. The vial of poison fell onto her blanket and Ciri quickly stuffed it between the edge of the mattress and bed before reaching for the cloth Avallac'h held out to her, his back still turned.

She washed quickly, careful not to touch her left side where bruises had bloomed over her ribs. From her and Eredin's harsh landing on the rock, she suspected.

While she worked, Avallac'h sorted through the options remaining in her wardrobe, locating a clean shirt, which he handed her.

Once she was dressed again, he washed her legs, then proceeded to braid her damp hair back from her face.

He peered down at her when he finished. "Beautiful." It was such a soft utterance Ciri almost missed it.

But she didn't take it to heart. She knew that gleam in his eyes. He was looking at her, but he was not seeing her. It was a longing for someone else. Someone she could never be.

Ciri swallowed and lay back down, closing her eyes under the pretense she was going back to sleep. She didn't move again until she was certain Avallac'h had gone.

* * *

Dandelion and Shani stood side by side, scooping soup into bowls, offering bits of fresh bread that had been made to anyone who was in need of the food. And many were. It had been a long and hard night for all of them. Not many but those recovering had managed sleep.

"You should get some rest," Dandelion said to the redhead leaning against him, her head bent to his shoulder, her hand daintily covering her mouth as she yawned.

"Later," Shani murmured.

She'd been up all night tending to the wounded, using the troubadour as an extra pair of hands to bind and fix breaks and suture cuts. Medical students had been around, but they themselves had been very busy, and there was only so much that the sorceresses could do with their magic. Triss hadn't been able to help to the full extent because of how much magic she'd exerted during the battle. She tried to compensate with her potions and solutions spiked with magic she could still spare. And what more could anyone ask for? If it hadn't been for Triss keeping the Wild Hunt at bay as long as she did, they'd be dead.

"Oh, what is wrong with all of you, people?" Triss exclaimed, strolling toward the two. "You need some rest. Both of you. Don't be like Geralt. Those witchers think their stamina is insane – until they collapse."

"I could use rest," Dandelion added. He continued to scoop soup though and pass out bread as needed. He was doing it automatically. Shani, however, was snoring softly standing up. Dandelion shook her off his shoulder, eliciting a groan of protest from Shani. "Where's Geralt?"

Shani perked up, swiping at her eyes, peering past Triss in search of the Witcher.

"He was being crazy enough to go back with Fringilla – to see Ciri," Triss informed. "Kain's going, too, but he decided to ride. Both are equally insane. Truly brothers, these two. Equally frustrating."

"He didn't tell me," Dandelion said, sounding indignant and slightly hurt. Shani, too, looked disappointed. She hadn't spoken to him quite like she wanted.

"They shall return, I imagine," Triss said, not missing Shani's look. She could relate. "While Dijkstra is here, he wouldn't survive if he had no one to push around. As if we have planned this whole ordeal solely to make Dijkstra's new position difficult." She threw her hands up in a silent gesture of annoyance and sat down on a chair. She winced – it was a hard one to sit on. Unlike the ones she was used to.

"They better be returning," Dandelion said. Shani helped herself to a spoon of soup, stuffed a slice of bread into her mouth and moved to sit down beside Triss. "What did Dijkstra have to say? Anything of importance? What does he plan to do?"

Triss scoffed. "As if he reports to us. He raged about how the Lodge should help him with the destructions, and then hinted on how the mobs could find out about Ciri being the reason for the attack if anything like that repeated. It's like we have any control over it – not that he cares. If the Hunt continues to harass people of this world, sooner or later the people would start hunting Ciri."

"We won't let it get to that," Dandelion said. He sounded determined, too. As though he had the power to make sure that wouldn't happen.

Triss gave a sad smile. "We can try, but people who lose everything are ruthless, Dandelion. The most dangerous people of all are those who have nothing left to lose. People ridden by fear of losing are no less dangerous. Fear drives you as far as one could go."

Dandelion had witnessed that. He couldn't bring himself to smile back. "We won't let it get to that."

Nothing in his voice had changed. He glanced between the two women and turned on his heel, heading toward the main academy in search of a bed.

He found it in his old room.

"I… I should probably get a bit of rest myself," Shani said, a bit uncomfortable with the heavy silence stretching upon the poet's departure. "The wounded will need me. And you, too. You need to lie down. You helped so much with elixirs and your magic. We appreciate it with all our hearts." Shani smiled genuinely, setting her soup bowl aside.

"I'm glad to help," Triss said, touched by the medic's gratitude. An awful fatigue was riddling her, her bones were aching, her muscles whined.

"Come with me, I shall find you a bed. Please." Shani beckoned, and they went.

Most students were still working on the streets, dragging the dead bodies and searching for survivors they could have missed before. Many rooms were empty, and Triss could get some shuteye. She fell asleep almost instantly.

Shani, however, lay awake for a while, the images of the devastated square and crying people shifting before her inner eye. She had been to a battlefield but had never seen anything like that attack, like those warriors clad in black like Riders from hell.

She was scared. Very scared of them coming back ever in her lifetime.

* * *

The portal opened in the corridor on the second floor of _Rosemary and Thyme_, and Fringilla walked out, followed by Geralt.

"Thank you," he smiled. She returned his smile and walked for the stairs.

The Witcher headed for Ciri's room. He wanted to knock, but then thought she might be sleeping, and just opened the door as quietly as he could, and stepped in.

Ciri had not fallen back asleep. Instead, she'd taken to pacing her room the past few minutes – as much as she was able. Being confined to bed did not sit well with her. Made her body feel restless. No matter how lightheaded and feeble she was at the moment compared to the day before.

"Geralt!" A smile curved her lips when she saw the Witcher and she made her way towards him, arms extended for a hug. "You're back!"

"Ciri! What are you doing up?"

He swooped her off her feet and delivered her on the bed carefully and gently as if she were made of thinnest crystal.

"What is wrong with you? How hard is it to stay in bed while you're in pain? You're pale and tired."

She made a noise of objection. "You can't just pick people up out of the blue!" she accused, glaring without any real heat. "I'm always pale and tired."

She adjusted her position atop the bed to get more comfortable, pushing the pillows to the wall so she could lean against them.

"What is happening in Oxenfurt?"

"Treating the wounded, listing the dead." Geralt pulled a chair and sat down, heaved a sigh with a gander at her leg. "Has Avallac'h helped you? At all?"

"He does what he can," she replied, averting her gaze to the blanket as she pushed her feet beneath it. "How is Kain?"

"He is… fine. Much better. His magic beats the Sage's at that. Has he taught you any of it? Perhaps you could do it for yourself."

Ciri ignored his suggestion, for now, brow furrowed. "You hesitated. Why? What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Geralt said firmly. "You have nothing to worry about. I wouldn't lie to you, would I?"

She searched his eyes, her own gaze shrewd. "No. But you would conceal to protect me. Wouldn't you?" She released him from her stare and inhaled deeply. "Are _you_ alright?"

"I am, and he is. I promise. Have you slept? You look like you barely did. You can't even stay in bed to recover quicker. Should I put Zoltan here to ensure you do? Or you will actually be reasonable?"

Ciri nodded rapidly. "I slept. I promise. And I am only doing what feels best for my body. If that is moving around for a few minutes so my muscles don't waste away, it is what I have to do."

"Nothing will waste away in one or two days in bed, Ciri," Geralt winced. "Don't be silly. We all need you up sooner, but you have to spare yourself those efforts to let it heal."

She opened her mouth to argue and then didn't. She wouldn't know how to explain why staying in one spot for a long period of time pained her so. And if she did, no doubt it would only worry Geralt more.

So she pressed her lips together in a smile and nodded. "Alright."

He frowned, only partially in mocking. "Something makes me doubt your resolve. I better be wrong." He studied her for a long moment, then ventured another question that bothered him. "What happened with Eredin when you took him away? How did he stab you?"

She shifted again, a little uncomfortable. "Oh, well, we had a harsh landing. It happens sometimes when I am not entirely focused. He recovered first. He picked me up like I was a… doll. My sword was missing so I reached for my dagger instead." She shrugged. "Again, he got there first."

"Do you have any ideas of how their navigator works? How soon would he find Eredin?"

"I don't know," Ciri admitted. "I know what he does is not something that can be done by just any elf. He was a result of Avallac'h's experimental breeding. I assume that's where his power comes from.

"As for Eredin… I don't think it would take Caranthir long to find him. Not if Eredin wants to be found. But after opening so many portals last night, it might take him some time to recover."

"And… you don't know how approximately much time he would be needing to recover?"

She shrugged and contemplated. "Unless he worries Eredin is caught somewhere by enemies, he would only need to open one portal. Would only need to bring himself, in theory. That takes less power than doing what he did here."

"In other words," Geralt sighed, "if they want to attack us again, it wouldn't happen much later. Do they have any other navigators or just one?"

"Just him, as far as I know. As I said – courtesy of Avallac'h. He used to be called the Golden Child because of what he could do for the Aen Elle."

"In that case, it makes him as good a target as Eredin himself. If we could take him out, Eredin would be stranded in their world. Do you know if he ventures on his own like Imlerith?"

"Not from what Avallac'h has told me. I believe he stays close to Eredin at all times, in case he needs him. He's invaluable."

"That is discouraging." Geralt felt a prick of anger: Avallac'h, the noble bastard that had bred a mage so invaluable, could have found a way to get rid of him.

If he wanted to.

"You said Avallac'h bred him. What exactly is their relationship?"

"I suppose if we think of Avallac'h as you, Caranthir would be his Ciri," she said, resting her head back against the wall behind her. "He raised him."

"Then he's protecting that mage, is that it? He would never choose you over him. And it is a problem for us, though it explains a lot about the Sage's actions."

"I think any affection Avallac'h may have had for him was lost when Caranthir chose Eredin's side. If there was any to begin with. The boy was an experiment. An investment. Not his own flesh and blood."

Geralt thought about it a moment, regarding Ciri. "You think Avallac'h is incapable of affection for anyone who is a mere investment." Like you, he failed to add, but he barely needed to.

Her lips thinned. "I thought he felt something for me. Some kind of affection. How can you not when you spend every waking hour of two years with someone, just the two of you alone? I was an idiot. A desperate idiot. I'm nothing to him. Just the vessel carrying the blood."

It was harsh, but the Witcher had no argument against it to offer. He didn't believe the Sage cared about Ciri any more than he cared about his world and legacy of Aen Elle. He didn't like having the elf around – around Ciri, of all people – but there was scarcely a better choice to have him removed. Not for as long as his knowledge aided them in any, however meager, way.

Geralt's face softened for the sake of Ciri, though his frown didn't go away. "You can't blame yourself for wishing for affection, Ciri. You're not even close to an idiot for wanting it. No sane person, let alone a child, should go through so many horrors and have not a speck of love to feel. It's normal to crave it. It's human."

"It was a weakness," she said, staring down at her hands. "I'm too easily manipulated. Maybe you should have given me the mutations, after all. If I had survived, I might be better suited for the life I am living now."

"Don't say things like that when you don't understand them fully," Geralt grumbled. "The mutations would have killed you, for it was a bit late, and it wasn't much better for human girls than it was for boys. There weren't many Felines at the Cat School. Not more than boys. Being a mutated witcher isn't a solution to anything at all. It's rather a problem all in itself. You deserve much better. And you will have it. Believe me, that day shall come. Sooner than you think when you feel desperate and worn out." He gave her a small encouraging smile. "We're still alive. We're still not giving up. And we're together."

Ciri reached for his hand and held it in her own, her eyes momentarily closing. She was tired again. "Stay with me a while? Until I fall asleep?"

Geralt smiled, "Of course."

It was probably one of those things she was too old for. One of those things she should no longer crave. And yet she did. She took great comfort in having Geralt close by, feeling his hand squeeze hers. It made her feel like a child again – in the most amazing way. One of those moments Ciri and Geralt had been robbed of during their many years apart.

Her fingers tightened around his just before she drifted off.

He sat there way longer than it took her to fall asleep. He watched her frown smoothen out, her face become calm and peaceful as she slumbered. He missed all those years he wasn't able to hold her hand and make her feel safer with his mere presence. He missed dearly watching her grow from an awkward adolescent into this beautiful and strong young woman she had become. He missed being a part of it, of her daily life, of her laughs and sorrows.

He needed to hope they would lose no more time.

"Forever, Ciri," he murmured under his breath.

* * *

"What a ploughin bastard!" Zoltan raged, pouring mead for both Geralt and himself. "What gratitude ye ever gotten from him for giving him Redania? Shouldn't have helped the whoreson, I'm telling ye. He never moved his fat arse to help us back at Kaer Morhen. And now he wants every pair of hands on cleaning? I say he ploughin order his men - ye don't have to pay for what the elves did, Geralt. Neither your nor Ciri's fault, that."

"But the city took quite a hit," the Witcher said, tearing a piece of bread to dip in the meat sauce. "Too few of his unit survived."

"It was too simple - to attack where and when they said," Zoltan clucked his tongue, shaking his head. "We should have known."

"We couldn't be certain."

"Nor can we be certain Novigrad is safe, is that it?"

"True." Geralt finished his broth hungrily and cleaned the remaining sauce with bread.

Zoltan chortled. "There's more if ye like. I'll bring ye more meat."

When he went and came back and put another plate in on the table, Geralt tore another piece of bread and asked, "Saw Avallac'h?"

"Aye, all but kicked me out of Ciri's room last night. Barely let her eat."

Geralt flashed a glare but said nothing, busying his mouth with food.

"Didn't even heal her, did he?"

Geralt shook his head. "His magic works slower than what Kain does. But it works, too."

"Kain all right?"

"Yes. Though he could use more rest and personal healing time he didn't give himself."

"Both of ye could. Yer here while ye shoulda been in bed, Geralt. And ye look like shite. I'm telling ye as a friend."

"Thank you very much," Geralt chuckled. "And not just for this great lunch."

"It's nothin. Better tell me, what do we do now? People will be returning here, and stopping them would be like tryin to stall an ocean wave as tall as a ship while ye stand before it with yer arms up."

"There's nothing we can do about it when we know nothing of the Hunt's plans. Ciri said she teleported Eredin to another world where he's alone. His mage is yet to locate him, but who knows how long that takes."

Zoltan scratched his beard pensively and reached for the pitcher of mead. "I wouldn't expect it to be long."

"Nor would I."

"What gets me all worked up is that haughty elvish prick who acts like a know-it-all but wouldn't offer any worthy plan of how to win this shit. Whose side's he even on?"

Geralt's face darkened; he took a hearty gulp of mead to wash down the meat. "Whatever side is mostly beneficial."

Zoltan scowled. "Then we can't trust him at all."

"Not fully, no."

"Well, that just stinks like their damned hounds' bollocks." Zoltan spat and took a swig of mead.

"What of Yennefer?"

"She scarcely shows face," the dwarf shrugged. "Been with Ciri, then went someplace, either to her room or to the sorceresses. I gave up keepin score of how those come and go."

The door opened, and both turned expecting to see the sorceress in question, but it was Kain stepping in. He looked even more rundown than back in Oxenfurt.

"Ye gods and little fishes," muttered Zoltan, getting up. "Ye witchers know no rest. Ye sit yerself down, mate, I'm gettin the food."

"Thank you," Kain smiled with genuine gratitude and settled across from his brother who gauged him with concern.

"Should've asked Triss," Geralt said. "You're barely standing."

"I don't need to stand. How's Ciri?"

"Sleeping. Still in pain, I presume. Stubborn about it, too. Was walking around the room, pale as a sheet, when I came in."

Kain simpered. "Can't pin that one down."

"Not for as long as a day, no."

"I better help her, then."

Geralt peered at him, conflicted. "Maybe you should not."

Kain considered him shrewdly. "You think it's to do her good to stay in bed? Thing is, you can't make her. Not even with a wound. And even if - what good will it do if she's constantly antsy and yearning to run? Better she be healthy and we don't have to worry about her leg while she runs around."

"We," Geralt repeated, smiling a bit slyly. "You worry about her."

"I'm here, aren't I."

"Should have been in bed."

"Right back at you."

"Here ye go," Zoltan put the plates down and set a mug before him, then poured mead. "Ye stayin?" He looked expectantly between the witchers.

"We catch some sleep, then go back," Geralt said.

"What is there to do for ye? Rebuild?"

"No. But Dandelion's still there. And sorceresses will be. We still need to make sure no knights were left behind to plan another attack."

"Aye, aye, true. At least some mages should be here in case we have news," the dwarf said.

"I hope they've spent all their current might on Oxenfurt," Geralt responded, refilling his mug. "Opening portals for an army cannot be a simple task. Not for someone who gets tired and can die."

"Who knows what potions those elves are abusing," Zoltan scoffed. "I wouldn't put it past those skunks to shove all of their merry family into our world and not break a sweat."

"They have only one mage for it," Geralt argued. "And he has limits."

"Finally some good news," the dwarf laughed and refilled their mugs again.

"Are we to stay in Novigrad for the foreseeable future then?" Margarita asked, having descended the stairs with a tray in her hands. Clearly, Philippa preferred to use the other sorceresses for such menial tasks as to clean up after supper.

"Not Skellige as the elf commanded?"

"For now, it's best to stay here," the Witcher said. "In case of any additional attacks."

"Maybe we should send Ciri to Skellige?" Zoltan offered. "She might be safer there. In any occurrence."

"And much more restless," Kain put in, finishing his meal. "She can do crazy things, and all that safety will be but an illusion to fool our minds with."

"There are ways to keep her calm, of course," Margarita said airily, disposing of the tray on the bar. "Magical ways. It is not as though rebellious children are anything new to us sorceresses. Many of us were the same when we were young. Until our mistresses disciplined us."

Geralt flashed a glare her way. "No one will drug her, nor put any spells on her."

"Besides, it could backfire," Kain added.

Margarita folded her hands in front of her, smiling pleasantly. "How so?"

"How so what?" they both asked.

"How would it backfire?"

"She's not your average mage, so it's unpredictable," Kain said. "Whatever you may attempt to do to her with the kind of magic you're used to in this world, there will always be that other part of hers - the magic of elven people that you, mages of this world don't fully understand - that could react unpredictably and destructively."

"Gwyncath is right," Avallac'h said, coming down the stairs. "Her temper makes her magic more dangerous and unpredictable. And when it blasts out, it's lethal to all life around her and farther."

"She's not a monster, Avallac'h," Geralt grumbled. "Stop posing her as such."

"Zireael lacks calm and reason at times occurring more often than we all would like," the Sage said. "She lacks discipline, and no amount of training seems to aid."

"Maybe yer ideas of training don't fit her," Zoltan said, sipping his mead.

The Sage gave him a look one spares a pile of horseshit on the street. "Perhaps you could manage more successfully if you ever bothered to try."

"It was just a suggestion," Margarita said, that smile still in place. "If only she had joined us when she was a child – as she was meant to – all of this might not have happened."

She spared Avallac'h a pointed look, as if blaming him personally for everything bad that had befallen them all the past few years.

"She barely changed her ways and character since she was a child," Avallac'h responded, studying his nails.

"Her ways depend on what is happening around and to her," Kain said. "She's been through war, she's been on the run, she's been through other ordeals no child should go through, and now she has her family around her, but the dangers never changed. She's still in survivor mode, still defensive and suspicious. Still afraid and worried about all the things her experience has taught her to worry about.

"And that defensive state is what works on her nerves and stirs her power toward destruction. There is nothing any of your training can do to make her feel safer when she knows that her enemy hasn't stopped."

"Training should teach her to discipline her mind - which is the source of her problems," the Sage stated.

"She is not a mutant," Geralt said. "She cannot eradicate her emotions."

"Not eradicate," Avallac'h corrected, looking bored. "Control. _Discipline_. It benefits any warrior, especially with such powers. But Zireael refuses to pay it all necessary attention. She believes it's not necessary. Until her power kills someone she cares about. Then it will be too late; however, it would provide a good lesson she will never forget."

"How macabre," Margarita commented with a look of disdain. "However, I believe my sisters and I would succeed where you have failed. We've experience in such matters. And let us be honest - Ciri could use some feminine energy in her life."

"Everything that concerns Ciri is for Ciri to decide and choose," Geralt stated. "She is a grown adult capable of making decisions. She wants to be in charge of her life and she should be."

"You might reconsider that one-sided delusion sooner than you think," Avallac'h commented, throwing an impassive glance his way.

Geralt stared back, unamused. "Of course. Look at all your triumphs at upbringing."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" the elf inquired, unable to help indulge his curiosity.

"What it sounded like," the Witcher responded. "You've been with Ciri every day for several years, have you not? So how come your efforts to instil discipline have failed, despite all your knowledge and principles? It seems that you excuse your inability to get through to her with her temper and lack of control.

"How I see it, the girl has enormous control to stay sane despite all the things she's been through, not without your own efforts and plots back in Tir ná Lia."

"She should have been trained from an earlier age. Instead, it seems she was left to run wild and do exactly as she pleased," the elf said airily, sweeping his hair off one shoulder. "We should have claimed her from birth. She would have been perfect then."

Avallac'h did not excuse himself, but simply made for the front door, his ropes sweeping behind him.

Margarita looked unwilling to get involved in this particular branch of the conversation and retreated as well.

* * *

Ciri could hear the voices coming from downstairs and noticed her own name mentioned more than once, but she could decipher nothing else.

Were they angry with her because of what she had done with Eredin? Because she had come to Kain's aid when they had wanted her to remain hidden?

Ciri sat up and carefully swung her legs off the bed, rubbing her face with both hands.

Eredin. He was alone out there in that dark, cold world. Alone. And vulnerable.

It would be so easy... If he didn't see it coming.

She peered down at her leg and slowly undid the bandages, trailing her fingertips along the stitches in her skin. Right now she was useless. She needed to heal. Quickly.

She grasped the edges of her bed and closed her eyes, trying to remember everything Kain had taught her about healing.

* * *

Zoltan scoffed, breaking the silence after the elf and the sorceress removed themselves from the room.

"What can he know," the dwarf grumbled. "All their discipline, and what? He is here against his own people. They don't know shit about any control or whatever."

Geralt drank, thinking about Caranthir, the Golden Child. "He merely blames his failures on her."

"All he wants is total control over her," Kain said. "He accepts nothing less. He keeps forgetting that she is of this world and not his."

"The Elf is a fool if he thinks he can manipulate anyone here," Zoltan said. "He's like a child himself, throwing fits whenever things don't go his way."

"He's not a fool," Kain said. "He's dangerous."

The dwarf looked from one to the other and frowned seeing Geralt didn't seem to object. "Ye two know somethin' I don't?"

"Probably not," Geralt answered. "But he is not our friend. We've known it all this time. He looks after his own agendas."

"Does she still think she needs him?" Zoltan grimaced.

"We need him to rather be here than back with his people spilling whatever intel about us and this world he has gathered," Kain reasoned and got up. He looked at Geralt, "What have you decided? Trust her and heal or pin her to bed and pretend to be in control?"

The Witcher rolled his eyes. "Let it be the first, but only if you can. Maybe you should sleep first."

"We stay or we go back?"

"We'll return after we rest." Geralt grinned meaningfully at his brother: "We'll ride."

Kain and Zoltan chuckled.

"Aw, Geralt, ye shouldn't court witches if yer allergic to portals," the dwarf teased.


	49. Chapter 49

Kain decided against knocking not to wake Ciri, and quietly stepped into her room.

He found her sitting on her bed.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

Ciri didn't hear the door opening, but Kain's voice penetrated her deep state of focus. She opened her eyes.

"There's only so much one can sleep before it becomes redundant." She eyed his side. "How are you?"

He smiled slightly, "Walking, unlike you. Want to change that?"

She glowered playfully. "Don't be cocky. And yes."

He pulled up a chair and sat before her, leaning forward to examine the wound.

"He's been treating you?"

"He was... doing something," she murmured. "Um, yes. There's less pain than there was yesterday."

He looked up at her with interest. "What would you do to heal it?"

She instantly felt nervous. Like she was back at her lessons with Yennefer and had not done the reading she'd been ordered to do.

"I... I tried, but I am not certain it did much. I kept seeing images in my head; of red, raw flesh knitting together."

"There is no certain thing that would work for everybody. You need to figure out what works for you. Some imagine the moment how they got the wound, over and over, trying to see the image without the accompanying pain. As if the wound caused none. And then their body begins to mend itself.

"Others understand that healing comes from love - any form they understand and are able to summon. They invoke the feeling close to joy, or some warm, good feeling that projects on the flesh and makes it heal.

"Or you could do what you did, but add more warmth to it, more good feeling for your body to catch up on it - for it is alive as you are. It understands your emotions. If you feel grateful to it, it will return the favor with total obedience to your healing practice."

Ciri did not want to relive the moment with Eredin. It was far from one of the worst things she had experienced, but she wanted nothing of him inside her if she could help it. That included the image of his face.

And love... Love was complicated. Especially at the moment.

So the third suggestion was the one she opted for.

She closed her eyes again and summoned up the images from before, attempting to follow Kain's instructions by adding this warmth he spoke of. Gratitude. Her body had been good to her. Had always gotten her where she needed to go. Within reason.

She was not aware of the words that slipped past her lips in faint whispers, all of them in Elder Speech, speaking of acceptance for herself, the paths she had chosen, and the ones she had been forced to take.

Behind her closed eyelids, a light grew.

She was getting there. Not as habitually quick as she would have after a few years with druids, but she was doing it, nevertheless. A faster learner than Kain had been back in the day.

_Avallac'h doesn't know her as well as he thinks he does. _

Arrogantly so, as he stated his race was.

Kain looked at her wound and the beginning of scar tissue.

Time passed. Probably too much. She knew she was working slower than someone who had experience would. But it felt as though it was working. It felt as though she was lighter. Her fever had certainly gone.

"Am I doing it?" she whispered after several more minutes had passed, needing some affirmation that what she was doing was right.

"You certainly are," he confirmed. "But don't overwork yourself. Do it in portions. Let yourself rest. You had a fever, and now it's gone down. It's good work. Let yourself rest."

She exhaled heavily and opened her eyes, letting go of the process she had immersed herself in. She did feel tired.

Her wound looked better. More of a pink color than the raw and angry red it had been before. A true sign of healing.

"See? I'll be back to running in no time," she teased.

"You can get back to running right away - I can help with that. Or you wish to do it yourself in your own pace. Which one you want?"

"Help me," she said. "As long as you have enough energy to spare. I don't want to hurt you."

He smiled subtly. "Not so cocky anymore, princess? Don't trust yourself?"

"I'm impatient. Being confined to this room, to this bed… it hurts the mind. Old memories come out to play because of the silence."

"That's what's worrying - your restlessness. Or rather what you will do once you're up and about."

Ciri frowned. "What do you mean? What are you expecting me to do?"

"Avallac'h and the Lodge have little faith in your discipline, and no matter how much Geralt is defending you, it won't do any good if you prove them right.

"Please, don't do anything rash before talking to Geralt."

He nudged her shoulder to make her lie down, and when she did, he held a hand over her wound and closed his eyes, focusing. His palm warmed up, and her skin began to mend, the pink of the scar began to pale and the scar itself was evening out.

Ciri pursed her lips, the frown deepening on her forehead. She didn't speak while he worked, didn't want to distract him, but the moment he finished, she couldn't hold back any longer. "Discipline? What are you talking about? What is it I am supposed to do that has you all so worried?"

He leaned back in his chair, feeling lightheaded. "I trust you, Ciri. Geralt trusts you. Zoltan does. What the Elf and the Lodge think shouldn't matter for as long as you don't attempt to rely solely on yourself in that war. You saved my life back in Oxenfurt, and I'm never going to blame you for it, though you gave me a scare. I don't even want to think of what would be if you couldn't get back to us. We have no means to find you like that. It is scary for all of us. Do you understand?"

"That had nothing to do with discipline. I'm never going to stand by and watch someone undeserving get hurt or taken against their will. I will always intervene. Because it's the right thing to do." She exhaled heavily again, annoyed. "And Avallac'h and The Lodge's problems all stem from the fact I do not blindly follow their orders like they want me to."

"I don't care what Avallac'h or the Lodge want you to do. But I would care if you decided to run off to fight your enemies alone to not put your family in danger. Because it feels like something you could yearn to do. You hate being trouble for those you love. But they hate your thinking like that."

"Just because I yearn for it, does not mean I will actually do it," she pointed out. "I yearn to have you naked in my bed, but I've yet to ravage you, haven't I?"

That wasn't supposed to come out. But it had.

A jolt went through his nerves at her choice of argument, but his face froze and didn't betray it.

Ciri cleared her throat. "My point is, I am not so unpredictable and reckless as everyone thinks."

"What makes them believe you are so reckless?" he ventured. "Oh wait! I've just recalled the striking image of you drowning in the icy sea with sirens flying around the place your boat sunk." He smiled.

She gasped, appalled he would throw that in her face. "That... That was necessary!" she claimed. "I had questions that needed answers."

"I'm sure there were other - safer - ways to get those answers. Ways that wouldn't have you drown or get ripped apart by sirens."

She considered that a moment. Then shook her head. "It would take too long."

He sighed. "That's what I mean. Taking a shorter route is not always the best option. You need to play it safer. Your life means a lot for not just your family, but the world, as well. You need to treasure it a bit more. As well as your body."

"I've been trying my best. Haven't you noticed? Geralt tells me to stay, I stay. Even if it makes me miserable."

"I noticed. I'm here for _you_ \- to get you out of this bed. Because I trust you. Because Geralt does."

"Thank you." Her gratitude was genuine.

She pushed herself up to stand, testing her leg. It felt a little stiff but that would soon work itself out.

"Are we going back to Oxenfurt? Surely people there are still in need of help?"

"We get some rest and then we'll go back." He got up, too, carefully. The wooziness wouldn't go away. "Get some sleep. There will be no pain now."

"I told you I have already slept," she said, moving to her wardrobe to find some trousers she could wear until she'd managed to mend her other ones. "Are you alright?" He hid it admirably but his tiredness still shone through.

"Tired," he admitted. "I'll need that sleep. Geralt and Zoltan are downstairs still – in case you want to make that Witcher seek some rest as well as brag your flawless leg."

He smiled and exited her room.

She watched him go with a soft smile on her face, then pulled on her trousers and boots before heading downstairs to tend to the Witcher as suggested.

The inn was still empty of other patrons. Most of the inhabitants of Novigrad had yet to return. Right now Ciri did not mind. It meant she would not have to hide.

She leapt off the last few steps of the stairs and landed after a perilous somersault, mostly to make Geralt and Zoltan choke on their mead.

"She's back!" Ciri declared, arms extended over her head like a circus performer.

Her body ached and she instantly regretted her acrobatics so soon after Kain had healed her, but she was damned if she was going to let that show.

"Gods, ye lass!" Zoltan cried while Geralt was wiping beer off his mouth, both staring at her with surprised wonder.

"I knew he'd do it, but still you got us," Geralt said, grinning. "You feel all right?"

"As fresh as a spring chicken. Whatever that means."

She reached for Geralt's mug. It was almost empty. She drained it in one gulp, then set it back on the table, fixing the Witcher with a stern look.

"Now that you've had your mead, it is time for bed. You need to rest."

The Witcher gave her a long, suspicious look. "It's him, isn't it?"

"Him who?"

Geralt sighed and got up, and headed for the stairs. Zoltan downed what was left in the mead pitcher and stood up, too, beginning to clean the table.

"What are ye gonna do, lassie?" he asked, walking toward the kitchen.

"I am going to see my horse. Give her a good grooming." And avoid Avallac'h and The Lodge like the plague. "I'll be in the stables if you need me," she called over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Geralt asked, bumping into Kain in the corridor.

"Need to wash it all off me before I can sleep," Kain said. "And I need to see Griffin. He needs to see me all right."

Geralt clucked his tongue in disapproval but made a curt nod. "Make it quick. We should leave before night falls."

Kain nodded, and they parted, Geralt going to his room, and his brother jogging the steps down and walking out of the inn.

Geralt didn't bother undressing, merely shrugged his jerkin off along with the sword belt, and lay down on his bed. Yennefer was not there, but the scent of her perfume lingered. He closed his eyes, imagining her being in the room, brushing her hair in front of the mirror. He slept shortly after his eyelids drooped closed.

* * *

The griffin met Kain a mile off his cave and couldn't contain both joy at seeing him and worry that was still there. He jumped around his human friend like an excited dog, croaking, nipping. Kain laughed, just as happy, and stroked the beast's shoulders and neck, hugged his head when Griffin pressed his forehead against Kain's chest and stilled.

"Your love humbles me," Kain murmured into his feathers. "Your dedication puts me to shame for letting you be in danger. I don't want you to get hurt for me ever again."

The griffin croaked softly, then withdrew and looked at Kain with his very wise golden-brown eyes.

They went together, first to the lake, then to the cave Griffin had been residing. Kain made a campfire, and they huddled together like in their favorite times.

Kain drifted off feeling like he was back home.

* * *

Yennefer was taking a slow stroll around Novigrad. The point was to make sure there was no change around the city concerning the Wild Hunt, but her mind was restless and shifting between the current attack alert and Geralt.

Geralt being many miles away from her. Again.

Geralt being in Fringilla and Triss's company, of all people.

And Yennefer was alone. _Again_.

Given the circumstances, it wasn't unusual that Geralt had no time for her. But it didn't make her feel any better about the whole situation. She had never felt so unstable and uncertain before, and it was driving her insane every moment when Ciri being in danger didn't.

And now Ciri was injured. It concerned Yennefer how easily this Elven King stabbed the very one he – supposedly – wanted unharmed. But what to do about it? Ciri had already stated in no uncertain terms that they were holding her down like a prisoner at times with their smothering concern.

* * *

Ciri had given Kelpie a good brush-down and cuddle, had whispered secrets into her mane about her concerns about Eredin and asking questions whether or not she was wasting an opportunity by not seeking him out now he was on his own and more vulnerable than ever.

The mare had not given any answers, of course, but had made Ciri feel a little better nonetheless.

When she left, she ran into Yennefer who appeared to have just returned from a stroll.

"You should be resting that leg."

"All healed up," Ciri assured her, flexing her leg for emphasis and smiling. "Kain."

Yennefer glanced down at the leg in question. The fact that Kain had healed it was the least he could do considering he'd put her in harm's way to begin with. Not that he'd asked her to do that, but he must have known she would.

"Geralt's back, too?"

Ciri nodded. "Yes. Just put him to bed. He's been running around Oxenfurt all night doing damage control. We're going back when he wakes. I believe Philippa and Margarita will stay behind. Zoltan, too, probably. But the rest of us should go. Plenty of work to be done, I am sure."

"He does know how to push himself too far."

Yennefer was grateful, at least, that Ciri had taken care of him. She might have suggested the same in her position. Not that he'd have listened.

"Zoltan told me you were running a pretty high fever with your injury sometime in the night. You sure it's been taken care of properly?"

"Avallac'h treated me. He did something." She reached for Yennefer's hand and placed it on her forehead. "Check for yourself."

Yennefer obliged, turning her hand over so that the back of it could graze the Ciri's forehead to check her temperature. She looked healthy, like she'd shaken the fever and was able to stand on her legs unhindered. Didn't matter.

"Hm. You got really lucky."

"Kain is a very skilled healer. He is teaching me but I can't work as quickly as he does yet," she admitted. "I am lucky to have him."

"I guess you are."

Yennefer smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You can't afford to rely on luck. You've got to learn to do for yourself as well."

"As I said, I am working on that." Ciri eyed the sorceress, tilting her head. "Do you not like Kain?"

"I don't know him." Yennefer had only spoken to him briefly, he'd also gone so far as to knock her out. She rarely—if never—allowed people that upper hand. "Does it matter?"

Ciri wasn't sure if it did. It certainly didn't change the way she felt about Kain. But she supposed it would make her feel better if the sorceress at least didn't dislike him.

"I suppose not," she said eventually. "He is Geralt's family, though."

"He is," Yennefer agreed.

She also knew from experience that blood family rarely meant anything. Yennefer had only felt and received comfort in those she'd adopted over the years. They did seem to get on well enough and for a time Kain was taking over Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir's position in his life. Also, made sense.

"What do you know of healing yourself?"

"I've found the way that works for me. Internal visualizing. But I work slow and it tires me out. I need more practice. How do you do it?"

"Potions, poultice and magic. A combination depending on severity." Yennefer would love to show her, rehash what she was sure Ciri had been taught in the past, and dig around to make sure she was fully prepared again.

There would be time for that later, though.

"If you're going to Oxenfurt a little later, you should get a bit more rest."

A privilege they sometimes didn't have.

Yennefer touched a hand to Ciri's hair, brushing a strand behind her ear. Yennefer wanted to ask her to be less reckless, to not risk herself for others, but how, when that's what they were all doing and in theory what she always wanted?

"I'll speak to you in the morning."

With that, she headed inside and slowly started for Geralt's room.

Ciri did not waste her free time resting or sitting idly. After Yennefer left her, Ciri returned to her room and rifled through her wardrobe, tearing apart one of the dresses that had been left behind by one of the previous tenants.

With a strip of the cloth and her sword on her back, Ciri opened her window and climbed outside, moving to the highest top of the roof where it gathered in a pointy line, making it perfect for balancing exercises. Just like back at Kaer Morhen.

She blindfolded herself with the cloth and pulled her sword, beginning her battle with her imaginary enemies, all her worries and stresses falling away with the familiarity of the exercise.

* * *

When she entered and took a survey of the room, Yennefer found him in bed, he was stretched out on top of the covers, still semi-dressed, his features a mask of restlessness she hadn't seen in a while. Was that because they didn't have one another to anchor each other? Because the spell had been broken?

Yennefer crawled onto the bed beside him, brushing an index finger across his brow, attempting to soothe it, to take a moment to enjoy the time when he wasn't looking at her as if he was scared she was there to take something from him he couldn't offer.

Geralt stirred, but the dream kept him in. It was dark and buried in uncertainty, but all the Witcher knew was that Yennefer was in pain and suffering while he didn't know where she was. Her voice reached him like a distant wind, her scent was faint yet lingering around him, but he couldn't focus on how to find her while there was someone else… She smelled like Yennefer but looked so different. Geralt was confused.

He gradually surfaced from the slumber, feeling disoriented. He sighed, trying to open his eyes and make sure it wasn't a dream – that scent around him.

"Yennefer…"

"It's me," Yennefer added, relaxing her arm on his chest, her index finger and thumb brushing his brow, soothing away the continued displeasure that had temporarily taken a hold of his features until it disappeared. "I didn't mean to wake you." And yet she continued to touch him as if she had.

He hadn't rested, he figured as much: his eyelids were heavy, and his muscles still ached. He forced his eyes open, and her blurry face slowly came into focus. Like a vision of cold beauty. Her eyes seemed so brightly violet, so shiny.

He smiled a little. "What _did_ you mean to do?"

Yennefer was still hurt by the thought of him with someone else, knowing that it happened a night ago, that he hadn't even thought twice. She was also at a complete loss at how to stop it the next time.

And there would be. It's not as if he was without his admirers.

She slid up along his body and pressed a kiss to his mouth. A kiss that conveyed passion, need and, more importantly, what she now knew was considered love.

"That."

His smile widened, and the need to slumber shifted a bit into the background while his lips buzzed with her kiss.

"Is that the whole intention or merely a part of it?" he asked, studying her hypnotizing eyes.

"Part," she elaborated, pressing another kiss to his mouth, lingering there longer than necessary as if she were afraid that once they separated she'd forget how to do it. "Our girl took a huge risk with Eredin. Today could have gone a completely different way. Thoughts?"

The smile disappeared from his mouth, as well as traces of sleepiness. "What am I supposed to say? That she shouldn't have? I would've done the same in her stead. She was saving a life."

"It's different where we're concerned. Eredin doesn't want us. He wants to kill us."

"None of us have a power to escape him like she does," he reasoned. "What would you like her to do? Sit in a basement while everyone is fighting without her? It's impossible to demand that from her, unless you aim to lose her trust for good."

"I never said that's what I expected her to do. I know that's an impossibility. Can we at least acknowledge how dangerous it was? That today could have turned differently?"

Geralt winced, confused about her intentions with this conversation and its point. "We all know it was dangerous. She knows - she got stabbed. How many times do you need us to acknowledge that simple fact? Her whole life was dangerous, starting with Cintra. It still is, as well as my life and yours and everyone else's around us. So what about it?"

"What are we going to do about it? That was the second time. Are you sure we're going to get a third? Given what he knows she's willing to do, and how – he'll use it against her."

He frowned, put an arm under his head, peering at her. "What do you propose I do about it? Forbid her to save the people she loves? Forbid her to breathe to not alert Eredin?"

"So you think she loves him?" Yennefer asked, letting the hand she'd been exploring his brow with come to rest in the middle of his chest, a lazy smile twisting onto her mouth. "Kain, that is. She told you that?"

His lips twitched in subtle amusement. "I didn't mean him specifically. More like all of us. Any one of us could have been in that situation, and she'd do the same."

"I did," Yennefer corrected. "And that may be so, but, we weren't and it wasn't." She wasn't blaming either of them for it. Love was love. Unless it was infatuation. Didn't mean she wouldn't worry about Ciri. "I'm allowed to worry."

"I was in that situation before, and she sacrificed her safety for me. You can blame me, too, then, if you want.

"Worrying about things you cannot change is pointless, Yennefer. You can ask her how she feels if you wish, and she'll tell you. But you won't be able to change it."

"I don't want to change it, I want to change what we're fighting, and I want to know that she'll be safe. That I can keep her safe. I'm not used to feeling helpless, Geralt." And it wasn't only in that regard. Not that he would know. "Has anything changed over the last few days? Between us?"

He frowned. "It's not really about Kain and Ciri. It's about me, isn't it."

Yennefer didn't feel it necessary to say yes, she simply smiled.

"My memory's not back," he said simply, feeling it unnecessary to beat around the bush. "It's still strange to me to have you around every day, to see you worried about Ciri and treat her like your daughter. Because I don't remember how it came to be."

"You've also been sharing a bed with me. Does that feel peculiar?"

He smiled. "If you want to know whether you are special, you are. You have been on that first day that we met, as well, which I do remember."

"How'd that go?" Yennefer asked. She drew an idle pattern on his chest, encouraging him to fill her in. "Tell me in detail." She wanted to know how it varied from her own.

Geralt laughed. "I didn't think you had trouble remembering."

"You don't know a good many things about me, Geralt. Share. Tell me a story."

"What can I tell if I don't know so many things about you? It's you who should be telling me stories."

"I'm not asking you to recite what I like. I'm asking you to tell me your version of how we met so that I know how it differentiated and where it changed."

"You saved Dandelion from the djinn's curse and then almost died yourself trying to tame the creature. I made the same wish that banished it the first time, and it worked again. Though the djinn was so pissed it almost buried us under the thrashed building."

"How do you know that it was the same wish if you don't remember me?" Yennefer's lips twitched into a small smile. "What was it? What was the wish?"

"It was a curse in some strange elven tongue a priestess from Huldra's sanctuary taught me a long time ago. I didn't know what it meant until the priest enlightened me about it. It did make the djinn retreat, nevertheless. At the time, it was all that mattered."

"An elvish curse? That's it?" Yennefer had heard part of the wish before and it hadn't been that complicated. At least not in tongues. She supposed it proved that the wish was the thing that connected them. "You saved me that day. And many after."

"It was an incantation that turned out to be a highly inappropriate direction for the subject to go plough themselves. No wonder the djinn was as mad as it was."

"You think that's why?" Yennefer asked, chuckling softly. "You don't think I had agitated it by trying to trap it?"

"You certainly had," he laughed. "But it was mad to begin with, and you wouldn't relent. I couldn't let you die after you saved my friend. It would be a waste of such insane potential as yours, as well as your beauty."

"And that's the only reason? Because I saved your friend and happened to be beautiful?" Who didn't like hearing the latter? "It wasn't because of some unspoken… draw?"

He thought about it, watching her face with a glint of both fascination and warmth. "I wouldn't go into the crumbling house if I didn't feel any draw. But you did save my friend, and I couldn't let you pay with your life for it, even if it was your choice to be so reckless. Much more reckless than you blame Ciri to be." He smiled, brushing a finger across her cheek.

"That was my choice. As it is hers." Yennefer reached out to press her fingers to the back of his hand, running it down his arm slowly, toward his elbow where it stopped before making its way back. "And after that? When did we next meet?"

"On the dragon hunt. You were with some haughty knight, and you gradually set nearly everyone in other teams against you. They wanted to do nasty things to you when we got captured. But you managed to turn most of them into toads. I've seen many things in my life, but that was something unique. I have to admit."

"They deserved it," Yennefer supplied. She did think of that time fondly and a bit confusedly. Afterwards had been good for them, long and comfortable and at times complicated. "After that? Nothing more? You don't remember living with me for a year?"

"No. We parted after the djinn story. And then we parted after the dragon hunt, as well. You had business somewhere, and I had my work."

"Who were you with during that time? I'm not talking about your frivolous whores. Triss?"

"I've never been with anyone constant. Being on the road is my constant."

Yennefer was placated. So, it's not as if the spell had aided in keeping him from some other relationship that would reflect and twist the rest of his life as it had done theirs. And not with Triss. "Fringilla?"

He chuckled softly. "It wasn't a long one. Someone like me is not made for long-term affairs. Nor is someone like her."

"If that's the case then why did it work for me and you?" Yennefer arched a brow, challenging, wanting him to think and itch his memories for the answer.

"You say so. It's not what I know."

"Are you calling me a fibber, Geralt?"

The Witcher sighed and gave her a lenient look. "You talk too much." He drew her down to him for a kiss, slipping his arm around her waist and groping her behind as he did.

Yennefer shifted her legs until her knees touched the cover on either side his body, her hand fisting into his hair as her lips fused to his own, indulging in his attempt to distract her for a few seconds. He'd always been good at it. However, this time she had thoughts and issues that needed dealing with. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she broke the kiss, speaking against his mouth but making it temporarily impossible for him to continue kissing her.

"Answer me. Do you think it's a lie?"

He peered up at her, amused; his hands roamed her back and settled on her ass, squeezing. "I don't know what to think, so I don't think."

Yennefer rocked against him with the encouragement of his squeezing hands and then sat up abruptly, making no move to lessen the hold she had on his hair. "Unacceptable. Aren't you curious?"

"What does my curiosity have to do with what I don't remember? What you and Ciri and Dandelion tell me sounds like someone else's story."

"In what way does it feel like someone else's story? You can't imagine yourself with someone in the long term?"

"You. When I remember us parting ways when neither of us considered any long term, it sounds bizarre to hear another story. I don't recall anything about you that would tell me you wanted to stay with me. I was all but an episode in your life."

"You've never been an episode," Yennefer stated, accentuating her argument by rolling her hips and grinding down on him. "You've always been chapters. Multiple chapters. Some of them were really good."

He smirked. "Even if I've filled a few chapters, I could never make a whole tome."

"That's not true. It's what you wanted."

Yennefer's hand slid from his hair, letting him relax as her fingers moved to wrap themselves around his throat.

He watched her for a moment, then one of his hands found her throat in one quick motion, and next moment, he was hovering over her while she lay pressed into the mattress beneath him. Her fingers tightened reflexively on his neck.

He smiled. "Right now I want you to stop talking." He leaned down into her, claiming her mouth in a kiss.

Yennefer didn't fight the change in position, instead, she indulged in the kiss, parting his lips with her tongue, deepening the sentiment until both their toes had curled and they were breathless. And then she was pulling back again as she could, twisting her upper body slightly and tightening her hold on his throat, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him in place.

"If we won't talk about this now – we never will. I know you don't need answers, but I do."

"I have no answers for you, Yennefer," he said. "I cannot summon something that doesn't exist in my mind."

"But it does exist. It's there—it was there. For years." Yennefer raised a hand to his face and touched his brow, sweeping her thumb over it affectionately once more as she'd done while he was resting. "You have to reach for it. At least try."

"What if I don't know where to reach? There's only what I told you I know. I cannot invent anything else. I won't lie to you, not even to make you feel better."

"I'd rather you didn't. I don't know what's true then, what's getting through and what isn't." Yennefer relaxed the hand on his throat, letting it rove down along the center of his abdomen. "How do you feel when you're inside me? Does it feel unexplainable, like we're able to shift worlds? Or does it reflect everything else you've experienced with other people? Do you miss me when I'm not around?"

"Too many questions, and I haven't slept nor drunk enough to talk so much."

He kissed her again, demandingly, eagerly, with all the pent-up yearning she had awakened in him. His hand roamed up her hip, her side and to her breast.

Yennefer let the hand shift to their side, to grasp his hip once he started kissing her, letting him once again manhandle his distraction, until she'd been reaching for his breeches. She hadn't been planning to have sex with him, she'd been hell-bent on the opposite and making their conversation work, and yet, just having him nestled between her thighs had been enough to kill her resistance.

Unrelenting with his kiss, set on keeping her from talking, Geralt found the laces of her corset and pulled at them, untying and loosening it. What he hadn't taken a chance to mention to her was that she, indeed, was unlike the other women he used to be with. He would never be able to explain why. He didn't want her to make him try.

Not today.

Yennefer slid her hand into his pants, found his cock and proceeded to stroke him, to arch against him so that he could free up her laces and push and pull the corset to where he needed it to be. She was desperate, too.

He dealt with the corset rather quickly and it fell on the floor, then her torn skirt followed. Her actions told him she was scarcely inclined to proceed with the interrogation, and he let her breathe while his mouth traveled down her neck, along her collarbones and to her breasts.

She groaned in appreciation, her upper body following the movement of his lips until she appeared to be rubbing herself against him like an animal in heat, her lower body drawing aside to make space for her hands so she could free him of his pants. A task she'd used her knees to help with until she'd managed to undo his fastings and pushed it toward his ankles.

Geralt toed off his boots and got rid of his pants restraining his ankles, then swiftly pulled his shirt off over his head and dropped it on top of her discarded clothes on the floor. His lips and tongue and teeth explored her body anew, eagerly, as if he had her for the first time. Every patch of her skin was like water to him, the man dying of thirst. He pinched her nipple with his teeth and directed himself inside her, thrusting in to their joined groans.

Yennefer softened beneath his skilled exploration, wondering if he was even aware of how well he knew her body. Did he question it? Think about how easily he was able to derive sound from her and twist her into a temporarily submissive mess? She groaned when he finally slipped into her, filling her in that delicious way that made her feel complete and had her clutching at his hips, drawing him closer, deeper, falling into a steady rhythm.

Geralt wondered briefly what kind of power her scent held over him. Every time he smelled it, she didn't have to be around to make him crave something he couldn't put to words.

As they began to fall into their hungry, frantic rhythm, thoughts were wiped out of his mind replaced by all things her. He caught her lips in a passionate kiss, enjoying the things she made him feel so intensely and how her nails dug into his sides and back drawing blood, how she couldn't hold her moans and cries and shivers when he found the right angle and drove her onto the top of the precipice where the blast of pleasure blinded her.

Yennefer held him close, drinking in his scent, the familiarity of his body that had been bringing her to tears over the last few weeks, a wash of emotion forgotten amidst the ecstasy of their joining.

"Yes, oh, yes, Geralt!"

She squeezed him with her legs, contracting around him, coming undone within minutes.

His heart returned back to its slow pace and Geralt languidly trailed a path of kisses across Yennefer's heaving chest, her rapid pulse beating so closely beneath her skin as if her heart would burst out under his lips.

She allowed her hand slide up his back, soothing the nail marks, some of which she was sure she'd made bleed, her eyes closing slowly. "Tell me," she added, breathless.

"That you're magical?" His mouth teased her nipple, her neck beneath her earlobe, placing tender kisses that buzzed on her skin when his lips withdrew.

He lay down beside her, his eyes closing to savor that peace and warmth she gave him.

Yennefer used his relaxation as an opportunity to probe his thoughts, to take a glimpse like she had in the past, for years accepting his 'I love you' in such form, so much so, that when he'd said it out loud she hadn't even reacted because she hadn't thought that he'd aired it. The realization had been a surprise to both of them then, but she hadn't hesitated to say it back.

"You know what I mean," she stated, rolling onto her side to fix him with an attentive look.

The Witcher didn't respond; a subtle smile was lingering in the corners of his mouth, his face relaxed and peaceful as he drifted off.

She loved that smile, loved that she was the cause. She moved to situate herself on his arm, her hand coming to rest on his face again, letting him sleep this time, prepared to continue the conversation a bit later once they'd woken.


	50. Chapter 50

Ciri did not put her sword down until half an hour had passed. She had nearly slipped off the apex of the roof twice but had managed to regain her balance at the last moment. Enough to give her that delicious thrill of excitement in the pit of her stomach.

She removed the blindfold and took a seat, arms on her knees as she gazed out over the city. It was steadily filling up again with the people who had left before. Most looked entirely puzzled by the lack of destruction. But at least they were pleased. A lot better off than the inhabitants of Oxenfurt right now.

It seemed a waste for her to simply linger and wait while Triss and the others could make use of her help. But she imagined the hell that would break loose should Ciri leave before Geralt, Yennefer, and Kain. This was probably that reckless impulsiveness they continued to accuse her of.

So she waited, letting the sun warm her up from the outside in, at least taking pleasure in the fact that where she had left Eredin it was unlikely he would enjoy such a luxury.

* * *

When Kain returned to Novigrad, the sun was setting and people were slowly returning to the empty streets. They cautiously looked around, quietly talking to each other. The guards and Witch Hunters had been keeping their watch for too long and many of them were significantly drunk and exhausted.

Geralt was not yet up as Zoltan told Kain back at _Rosemary and Thyme_. The dwarf himself looked a bit run down, even though he had caught some sleep. The maids were back to help with cooking, and Kain was served fried vegetables with baked potatoes.

Zoltan sat down to eat with him - he had recently woken up himself.

Ciri saw Kain enter the inn and climbed back inside to join him downstairs. She found him with Zoltan. No sign of Geralt yet.

"Are we leaving?"

Kain and Zoltan raised their eyebrows. "We?" Kain asked. "Geralt and I are going back. I thought you would remain here in case anything still happens."

"No. I am coming with," Ciri informed him. "I've done my share of sitting idly."

"And if Novigrad gets attacked and we have no way of knowing at once? Because you would be the only one who could call for aid that quickly."

"We'll send a sorceress," Zoltan said uncertainly. "If we find any on time. Gods know where they all perch these days, which roof they picked." He scoffed and drank his ale.

Ciri gestured to Zoltan in agreement. "They're in their suite. Philippa and Margarita, that is."

She'd seen them peering out the window when she climbed off the roof.

Kain shrugged and said nothing, busy with his food. It wasn't any of his business.

"Seen Geralt?" Zoltan asked, peering at Ciri inquiringly.

"Not since I sent him to bed. Fairly certain Yennefer joined him, so..." She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "They will probably be occupied for a while."

Zoltan chortled. Kain thought it made sense - otherwise Geralt would be ready to go. He wondered if he should wait or ride ahead in case Geralt wanted to stay longer.

"I will go fetch my coat." Ciri bounded back upstairs and to her room, fetching her jerkin and tightening the straps. It still had a few spots of blood on it, but she decided it did not matter. A thorough cleaning would have to wait until later.

"Ye didn't plan on her coming?" Zoltan asked, eyeing him shrewdly.

"I had no plans," Kain said. "It's up to Geralt and her what they decide between themselves."

"Aye, that's smart." The dwarf poured himself more ale. "That lass can't sit in one spot for long. Restless like a skittish mare." He smiled affectionately and drank.

* * *

Ciri stopped outside Geralt's door and, because she didn't hear any loud noises of passion coming from that particular room, she assumed that the people inside were sleeping.

She knocked. First once. Then twice. Then another. "Oy, get up or we leave without you!" she threatened.

Yennefer heard the commotion from outside the door, wincing slightly when she jerked awake. No!

She darted a glance at Geralt, her sleep evading. She still wanted to talk.

_We're not done._

Geralt was reluctant to wake up. A subtle wince stroked through his features disturbing their peace, but he didn't move, nor respond.

No one called back, so Ciri headed back downstairs, taking a seat next to Kain while he ate and they waited. "Have you been to see Griffin? Is he alright?"

Scooping the remaining oil from the plate with a piece of bread, Kain nodded. "He's fine."

He's not a man of many words, Ciri thought. Even Geralt was more elaborate than his brother.

"Right." Ciri stood again at once. "I will go ready Kelpie's saddle. It could use a few adjustments. Come fetch me when we leave."

He looked at her with amused wonder. "You can get there instantly, and you want to ready the horse?"

"She might be taking after Geralt, after all," Zoltan commented. He gulped his ale, smacked his lips, then drawled, "Naaah."

She paused, eyeing Kain curiously. "Are you not riding? I assumed Geralt would. Getting him to travel by magic is like… pulling teeth from a rabid werewolf using a butter knife."

"I am riding," Kain confirmed. "I don't know about Geralt."

"That one's probably riding, all right," Zoltan said.

"Then so shall I," Ciri declared with a smile, heading for the stables to get herself ready.

* * *

"Geralt," Yennefer murmured, her nails brushing his chest, coaxing, encouraging him to open his eyes. "Geralt, wake up."

The Witcher winced, emitting a soft groan of protest. "What..."

She rolled and shifted until she was able to straddle him, determined to pin him down for as long as she could before the rest came barreling through the door and dragged him from the room.

"I'm hungry."

He smiled without opening his eyes. "For what?"

"Take one guess," Yennefer murmured. She let their naked lower bodies rub up against one another with determined resolution.

Her scent alone, sweet, enthralling, luring, was enough to get him ready. He reached for her neck and pulled her to him for a kiss.

Yennefer leaned down, brushing her lip against his, dipping her tongue into his mouth one last time before pulling back. "Everyone's downstairs and ready to head back to Oxenfurt. But before we go… about us—do you want to remember?"

The Witcher sighed, regarding Yennefer with a mixture of weariness and resignation. "I don't like to lose memory, Yennefer. But there is nothing I can do to remember it all on my own. I would have by now if that were possible. Maybe it needs more time, or maybe it needs something else. I just don't know what. No matter how many times you ask me - I have no answers. I wish I had."

"What do you feel?" Yennefer asked, staring down at him. "What do you want? You weren't very happy after I'd broken the wish. Are you going to be fine if I play with your head a third time? Do you even want to know me?"

He began to feel even more tired beneath the weight of all her questions. "How can I know what I want when I have nothing to compare to? What I've always known, this life of sole duty - you say it's a wrong memory. It's real for me. I don't know how to change it. I do like you a lot. That _draw_ you mentioned. Ciri needs you. And the way you are now is different from what I remember. I just... Yen, I just have no time to sort it all out. We're at war, Ciri's in danger, as well as the rest of North, if we understood them correctly. It doesn't seem the right time to figure out my personal life and desires."

"It doesn't? What happens when one or both of us die in the next battle? Do you really want to leave it unresolved, Geralt? Not know?" Yennefer had to admit to herself that it hurt. She'd have hoped that he'd want to fight for her, that even though he didn't know her to the same extent she'd wished, that maybe he'd want to at least get to know her.

Geralt groaned in mild frustration, rubbing his face. Then looked at her intensely, "What do you propose I do right now? When I'm set to leave to solve Dijkstra's problems so that he wouldn't sell my - _our_ \- daughter out to angry people that get attacked because of her?"

"I suggest you give me a clear answer. Yes or no. Do you want to deal with this? With me? With us? Or would you rather we take the time to work it out the old fashioned way?"

He gave her a helpless look. "What does it even mean – the old-fashioned way? And how, hell, Yennefer, HOW do you propose I deal with it right now? What do you want me to do? Just tell me what."

"It means I want you to make a choice. Do you want to be with me? Work through our wish and see if we can bring back the memories we shared? Or would you rather fight me on it?"

"I don't want, nor have any time right now to fight you over anything, Yennefer," he said, and gently but firmly swept her off him and onto the bed, hovering over her for a moment to place a kiss on her lips. Then he slipped off the bed and began to pull his trousers on. "I told you – if I knew how to remember you and whatever we had and feel the same way, I would. I don't know how. If you know how – you should tell me. Maybe when I'm back from Oxenfurt."

"I was planning to go with you," Yennefer stated. "You don't need me there?"

"I'm not a seer," he smiled, pulling his shirt on. "I don't know what can happen. But any magical help to restore the city is welcome. Dijkstra's orders. If you could convince Philippa and Margarita to come and help, it will be wonderful."

"Not what I was asking, Geralt." Yennefer didn't even care that she was naked. She'd peeled off the covers, observing him with interest while he dressed, his smile was enough to make her a bit crazy. "Do you want me to come along?"

He buckled his jerkin, watching her with a pensive amusement.

"I do like you a lot," he said eventually. "If that is what you're trying to find out. I'm attracted to you, drawn to you. But I don't _know_ you as well as you remember I do. I'm not opposed to spending more time together, but my priority right now is the Wild Hunt and Ciri. I don't care what happens to my personal life while she is in danger. She will always be my priority."

Geralt _liked_ her. He didn't _love_ her. He was almost talking to her as if he were trying to let her down smoothly. "Go," Yennefer added, using her hand to gesture to the door, to signal that he was free to leave when he was ready. Yennefer also knew the importance of keeping Ciri safe, of them working against the Wild Hunt and figuring out a new scheme. For now it was all about mending bridges. "I'll catch up."

She didn't like his answer, he could tell as much.

He nodded and picked up his sword belt. "Take Ciri and together try to convince the Lodge to come over and help Triss and Fringilla. Please."

"Ciri can go with you. I can take care of the Lodge."

"Ciri can get there within an instant," he said. "She will come when she pleases."

He approached the bed, leaned in to kiss her, then left the room.

Yennefer returned the affectionate gesture, watched him leave and then gathered her clothes together, repairing them with a practiced wave of her hand. Minutes later she'd pulled them on and headed out. She hadn't bothered to head downstairs, instead, she'd gone directly in search of the other sorceresses.

* * *

Geralt found Zoltan and Kain at one of the tables downstairs. They had finished their meals and Zoltan was sipping mead and sharing with the Cat witcher the specifics of cooking a steak.

"Geralt!" the dwarf greeted cheerfully and raised his mug. "I'll ask to bring yer supper."

Geralt sat down and poured himself a mug of ale.

"Ciri's preparing her horse to ride with us," Kain said.

Geralt frowned and nodded.

Ciri stepped back inside before too long. They were all taking their time.

"Look who's awake," she smirked once her eyes landed on Geralt. "Did you get some rest?"

"I'll manage," he smiled, and thanked the maid that brought him his plates.

Zoltan settled back at the table and downed his ale.

"And Yennefer?" Ciri asked, perching on the edge of the table. "Where is she?"

"She was in bed last I saw her," he said. "She will fetch Philippa and Margarita to help in Oxenfurt. If they agree, that is. I suggested she took you, but she seemed pretty sure of her power to convince them."

"You don't want them here in case something happens? For extra protection?"

"Dijkstra wants their help in rebuilding - he wants people to see less of destruction in the streets and square, to pacify them. They won't stay there for long."

"Clever," Ciri agreed, stealing a piece of carrot off Geralt's plate.

"Aye, that fat-arse spy's been rather clever," Zoltan put in. "He loves to manipulate."

"He's not wrong in his calculation," Geralt said. "The fewer reminders of that night, the better for people's sense of peace and safety."

"The more he can claim as his personal achievement," Zoltan added, clucking his tongue.

"Do you think he makes a good leader?" Ciri looked between Geralt and Zoltan. "Do you think he will do right by the people here?"

"What he does is not as much for people as for his own ideas about how it would be best," Geralt clarified. "He is a smart politician - no one can argue with that. But if we wouldn't have stopped him, he'd have killed Roche and his allies to sabotage the treaty with Nilfgaard, which would mean war. His goal was to unite Novigrad and Redania with Temeria under his own banner. He wants the North. He still does. What we did merely delayed him."

"And he honestly thinks he stands a chance against Nilfgaard?" With all the world-jumping Ciri had been through the past decade, it had become hard for her to keep up with local politics. "Isn't Emhyr and his army still quite feared by most?"

"Fear and ambition don't make good friends," the Witcher said. "Dijkstra is too ambitious to be afraid of Nilfgaard. Besides, he doesn't reveal his plans to me, and I don't know precisely how he intends to defeat Emhyr."

"With lots of spies and traitors of Nilfgaard, no doubt," Zoltan said. "I would bet my sweet life there be a lot of people eager to replace Emhyr with someone else."

Ciri was silent a while, thinking. "What do you two think? Know of anyone better suited than Emhyr for the throne? I am assuming you're not going to say Dijkstra."

"I'm a witcher, my dear Ciri," Geralt reminded with a smile. "I care not about politics. It's merely not something I am a part of. Nor would I ever wish to be."

"And I'm a dwarf," Zoltan added. "I care little about what humans cook in their palaces. All I care about is the trade conditions they offer my people."

"There is an heir, if I'm not mistaken," Kain uttered, taking a sip of water. "He's Emhyr's general, a talented strategist as far as I know. Some people would prefer him, but too few realize he is the next of kin. Everyone certainly has their own candidate in mind. It's always the case when it comes to thrones and crowns."

"Are you speaking of Morvran Voorhis?" Ciri shuddered. "I don't care for him. Too... slippery."

"Yes, him. If he seems slippery, it doesn't mean he is. People at court know how to keep up masks and appearances."

"I suppose." Ciri still did not like the man. Though she had to admit the reason could quite possibly be because he had simply been present before and after her talk with Emhyr. He was disliked by association.

"Ye better get going," Zoltan said when Geralt was done with his meal. "It's getting dark."

"Right." Geralt got up, and Kain followed. "Thank you for the supper, Zoltan."

"Don't mention it." The dwarf gave his back a friendly smack and got to gather the dishes. "Ciri, ye better warn yer Elf yer goin, so he doesn't plough my brain on how no one informed him."

"I have no idea where he is." Or where he might be now the sorceresses had taken over his suite. "Have you seen him?"

The witchers shook their heads and went outside to get the horses ready.

"I didn't count on Ciri coming with," Geralt confessed, saddling Roach. "We need to talk. Alone."

"We'll have to find another time, then," Kain said.

Ciri sighed and searched the inn, peeking into each room except for the sorceresses' but couldn't find the elf anywhere. Was he outside in Novigrad somewhere? Who knew what Avallac'h got up to these days when he was no longer as concerned with her as he had been? Truthfully, she was surprised he wasn't tailing Kain after the discovery he had Elder Blood.

She headed outside to meet the men and led Kelpie out of the stables. "He hasn't gone back to Skellige, has he? Avallac'h, I mean?"

"I don't have any solid idea what is going on in his head," Geralt admitted, mounting Roach. "He tells us less than he tells you."

"Well, I am certain he already knows I am going. Probably knew before I did," she muttered, climbing atop Kelpie and urging her into motion.

"Are you coming to not be around him?" Geralt asked.

Ciri looked his way. "No. I am coming because I hope I will be of some help. That I can do something other than sit and wait while everyone else is busy."

"Oxenfurt needs healers and builders," Geralt said, trotting ahead on Roach. "Novigrad, however, needs vigilant guards. We still know nothing about the Hunt's intentions."

"We can't prevent their strikes," Kain said. "All we can do is react when it happens."

Her eyes narrowed on Geralt's back. "Why do you not want me to come?"

"I didn't say that."

"No. Just implied there is no use for me in Oxenfurt."

"Aside from having you under my supervision at all times," Geralt turned to flash her a smile. "However, if you're skilled as a healer, Triss will be thrilled."

"Sometimes people need more than physical healing. Their wounds will heal and fade. The memories will not. The fear will not. If I cannot offer them anything for their injuries, I can at the very least offer them a shoulder to cry on or a willing ear to listen to their stories. I can be compassionate," she declared with a huff, throwing her hair over her shoulder and trotting past him and ahead.

The brothers exchanged amused glances and let her lead. They trotted out of the Eastern gate past another group of returning citizens and sent the horses into a gallop. It was already dark, and they wanted to be in Oxenfurt as soon as possible.

The city looked better now than it had last Ciri saw it. Of course, under the cloak of darkness, everything looked better.

A lot of the rubble had been cleared away from the streets, but many of the buildings were still severely damaged.

"Where are we going first? Dijkstra? Is he here?"

"First we see Dandelion and Triss," Geralt suggested. "And then you start helping them while we check the perimeter."

They left the horses at the nearest hitching post and headed to the clinic.

"You think The Hunt is still lingering?" Ciri asked, lowering her hood once they were on the doorstep of the clinic.

A redheaded blur was upon them as soon as they had opened the door. "Geralt! Ciri! Oh, it is so good to see you!" Triss exclaimed, hugging them both. She lingered a little extra with Geralt before fixing her gaze on Kain. "And you too, of course." Her smile was dazzling despite the exhaustion and stress that was visible on her face.

"Have you not rested since we went away?" Geralt asked.

"Of course we have, both Fringilla and I. It's simply too much work here to come back to, is all. It's all right, though. A lot of people still need help, and they respond well to our treatment." Triss regarded Ciri's leg. "Have you recovered, my darling? It's so good to see you up and feeling great again."

Ciri gave a gentle smile. "Can't keep me down for long." She took a gander around the clinic. It seemed to be filled to the max. "Anything I can do to help?"

Triss regarded her before gesturing to a large pot simmering over the nearest fireplace. "We could use some help distributing supper to the patients. They need nourishment to help them recover."

Ciri nodded. "Consider it done." She pushed up her sleeves and headed for the pot to start ladling out stew for the injured.

"Oh, you're back!" Shani approached, beaming. She looked Ciri over and her eyes shone with surprise. "Your leg is all healed! Is it magic? Of course it is, nothing else can work so quickly, unfortunately. I envy mages in that regard. I always have."

"Yes, I'm lucky to have some good ones on my side," Ciri agreed with a smile, carrying two bowls over to the nearest beds and the people in them. "That's not to say I don't appreciate your help."

"I did near to nothing," Shani admitted, watching the girl go, then turned to Geralt and Kain with a shiny smile. "So happy to see you back. I hope we'll have time to catch up… later."

"Of course," Geralt returned her smile. "Ciri's here to help with your patients. You need us for anything?"

"Unless your hidden talents include healing, you can hardly aid us here," Shani said, casting a glance at Triss.

"No, not here," Triss agreed. "Have you brought the Lodge?"

"Yennefer promised to fetch them."

"Good," Triss nodded. "That settled, we might want to leave Phil to deal with Sigi."

"We shall check the perimeter, then," Geralt said.

"You think there is a chance any more are… lurking?" Shani asked, her eyes widening, and looked between the witchers.

"We don't exclude any possibility at this point," Kain said. "We want to make sure we get no more surprises here."

"It would be wonderful to not have that night repeated," Fringilla said, coming up to them, her hips swaying. She smiled at the witchers, and Geralt had a flashback of how flexible and sultry the sorceress could be.

"Where is Dandelion?" the Witcher asked, looking between all of them.

"He's back at the Academy," Fringilla said, heaving a sigh as she rubbed her neck. "Has been aiding me with some repairs."

"He will probably come around, unless he decided to make it an early night," Shani said. "I'll go see who else needs their wounds redressed. Excuse me, and I hope we'll get a break to talk later." She smiled and departed to her team of medics.

"Please, tell me Dijkstra doesn't expect me," Geralt looked from one sorceress to another. They exchanged glances, and Fringilla shrugged.

"I don't think he does," Triss said, "but you would know if he did."

"Good. We shall get going, then."

* * *

The troubadour did, indeed, want to have himself an early night, but the need to be viewed as a bit more of a selfless individual than he actually was, he headed for the Clinic instead.

When he arrived, Geralt and Kain were gone, and he found Triss and Fringilla back at work with the more badly wounded, while Shani and her medics were distributing soup among those patients that were capable of keeping the food down.

"Ciri!" Dandelion called, grinning. "You're here! And you can walk!" He came up to her, waited for her to pass a bowl of soup to a wounded soldier, then hugged her.

"I always could. I simply chose not to walk," Ciri teased, brushing a few stray locks of hair from her face.

"You came with Geralt? Or Yennefer? Kain?"

"I came with Geralt and Kain. I think Yennefer will join us soon with Philippa and Margarita. If she manages to convince them to come. Have you eaten?"

"Not in a few hours, so it qualifies for no," he said, his mien turning sorrowful for a moment. "How about you? Rested? Feeling good? You gave us a scare."

She smiled affectionately at the bard while scooping him a helping of stew. "Shame on you for thinking a dagger to the leg could keep me down. I'm fine. Kain's healing skills are next to none."

"Don't tell that to sorceresses, they might get offended you take his aid over theirs." He looked down at the stew and grimaced, gently prying the bowl from her fingers to pass it on to the closest man with a bandaged leg. "No, Ciri. You and I shall go to _The Alchemy_ now and enjoy the best dinner we can get in this city. Come on. Indulge me."

He took her hand and pulled her after him, dexterously weaving between the cots toward the exit. "It's one building away."

"But... I'm supposed to help..." Ciri said, throwing a look back at Shani. "We can't just leave them, Dandelion."

"It's not for long," he reasoned, dragging her after him outside where he got more pep into his step, anticipating a nice meal. "Just a dinner, nothing to keep you all night. They make the best mulled wine in Redania. You should try it."

She let him drag her away, despite the guilt that immediately bubbled up inside her. "I didn't bring any coin."

"You shouldn't worry," he said, coming up the three steps to _The Alchemy_ porch and heading for the door. "Even if it brings you no wrinkles."

They stepped in and surveyed the hall filled with quite many citizens; the air buzzed with their discussions, some quieter, some heated. The innkeeper was wiping mugs behind the counter watching the crowds. He grinned as the poet walked up.

"Master Dandelion! So good to finally see you! I imagine you've been busy with all at the Academy. How bad is it?"

"It was much more pitiful than how I left it half an hour ago, Stjepan," the poet said, leaning his elbows on the counter. "But I believe the beauty of our gardens and statues yet still holds a chance with magic. The sorceresses shall aid us with it."

"Oh, I see, I see. That is good news, as good as it can be under the circumstances." Stjepan regarded Ciri with interest and smiled. "Who is your pretty lady-friend?"

"Oh, it's... Ciri, our... my friend's... daughter."

The Innkeeper beamed. "Such an honor! What shall I serve you?"

"A nice and juicy steak with mashed potatoes and grilled vegetables for me," Dandelion said. "And your mulled wine."

"Right away, right away." He looked at Ciri with a sneer of appreciation. "And for the lady?"

Even on a night such as this, in an establishment that mostly served commoners, _The Alchemy_ seemed too fancy for Ciri to fit in at the moment. She tugged uncomfortably on the collar of her bloodstained jerkin, nearly missing the question directed at her by Dandelion's friend.

"Oh. I'll have what he's having," she said, gesturing to the bard, only catching the tail of the man's leery gaze.

Swallowing the irrational urge to glare, Ciri took the lead in finding them a table, reluctant to sit at the bar.

Dandelion followed Ciri to the table she picked and sat down observing the patrons. Little to none granted them any attention, all consumed by their debates. Judging by the shreds of sentences and words that reached his ears, the poet decided they were pondering their further lives. The wars had raged before, and no less frightening than the night of the Wild Hunt, but even the Nilfgaardians didn't seem as demonic as the elves in their armor and fury, accompanied by hounds and magic.

"However soon we repair, they won't forget it as quickly," he mused.

"Of course they won't," Ciri said. "A lot of them have lost loved ones. That's not something you forget just because the city is put back together."

"Actually, the losses were minimized by our efforts," the poet said. "Most were at the Academy where Triss protected most of them. Only a few were on the streets."

Ciri frowned. "I could have sworn I saw the streets run red with blood. Maybe those memories are fabricated? Because that's how it usually goes when The Hunt attacks."

"It was the guards and the troops Dijkstra brought," the poet said. "They are nearly all dead or gravely injured."

Ciri shrugged. "Those people have families and loved ones, too."

"War is war," Dandelion sighed. "It never ends well."

"Does Priscilla have family in Novigrad? She was not at the inn."

"She went to Gors Velen - to arrange some performances for the future and to wait it out. I barely talked her into it. But she took some of our common friends performers. She was set to return in a few days or a week."

"Good. As long as she is safe."

One of the servants came over with their drinks. Once he left, Ciri fixed Dandelion with a mischievous look. "So... do you intend to marry her?"

He stared at her momentarily with wide, frightened eyes, then smirked with dark humor. "The day you marry, we shall discuss it."

She snorted. "Oh, please. No one would ever marry me."

"Don't be so certain!" the bard chided, laughing. "You're too pretty to think so. And who wouldn't want a woman so skilled with the sword. It's very... exciting. In a way."

"Simply speaking from experience, Dandelion. If anyone would want to marry me, it would be for the entirely wrong reasons."

She sat back when the server returned with their meal, quick to dig in. She was hungry.

"What reasons could there be when a lady is perfectly beautiful and also a bit dangerous?" The poet grinned cutting into his steak. "I tell you, it sounds enough for most. For any sane man."

"Power. They think I have it. They want it. It has nothing to do with me as a person."

"Oh, Ciri," the bard scoffed, chewing on the meat, "I didn't mean all those insane elves or mages. I meant the normal men who would care not about your powers, but about you and how wonderful you, Ciri, are."

Ciri looked at him, squinting. "Who are these men?"

"How would I know? You tell me, which men you have encountered? Which ones did you like? Which ones did you desire? Those men who you would want to marry."

"Well, no one has made the marriage list," she confessed, cutting a piece of her steak. "As for desire... there is only one. But he does not want me in the same way."

"So you've chosen!" he exclaimed, eyeing her with avid curiosity. "Do not worry, there is no one who wouldn't want to return your feelings. It would be an outrageous stupidity. Do I know him? I can kick his behind for your sake."

Ciri met his gaze pointedly. "You know who I mean."

His hand with a forkful of meat froze halfway to his mouth as he racked his brain eyeballing her. Then his eyes widened like coins. "Geralt's brother? Really?"

"He's not–..." Ciri cleared her throat and lowered her voice. "He didn't start out as Geralt's brother. He was the boy from my dreams. Literally. Someone I connected with, someone I felt close to without even knowing why. And I thought maybe, maybe I'd met someone who understood me, who understood my life and could handle that. That destiny was rewarding me for not giving up after all these years."

She lowered her gaze, aggressively cutting her steak.

"Then it turns out it had nothing to do with me at all. I was just an unknowing guide leading Geralt and Kain together. Reuniting them. Perhaps that was the very reason I was born in the first place. To reunite these two legendary brothers so the world could have their protection."

Dandelion's eyes were shifty, his hand slowly carrying the piece of steak to his mouth that was smiling in a silly manner. The lines of new ballads already danced around his mind with notes and melodies, distant and divine, meant to make people weep and make wishes upon the falling stars for a love as grand and magical.

She recognized that look in his eyes and immediately pointed at him with her knife. "Don't you dare capitalize on my pain, Dandelion! I mean it. I will drop you in a different world and never return! Do you hear me?"

Dandelion dropped his fork with a loud gasp. "Ciri! You would do that to me? And rob Geralt of the best friend he ever had? And this whole world of the beauty and music I gift it? How is this possible? Oh, how?!"

"Oh, I would," she said, continuing her meal. "You have no idea how vengeful I can be."

"But... Ciri! We are a family! You don't do that to your family! I knew you as a child!"

"And family don't gossip about each other's misery. No matter how much coin or fame or... sex it awards them."

"I would never gossip! How can you even call my music gossips! It's horrible! A horrible day when the apple of my eye calls me a cheap gossiper! Woe is me! How can I live with it! And how can the world live without my ballads that uplift them and make them believe in miracles and love while all they have in their lives is misery and dirty cots with bedbugs to sleep on!"

She grinned, amused by his dramatics. "I love you, Dandelion. You are one of my favorite people. And I would so like to be able to confide in you and know what I tell you won't go any further. _That_ creates trust."

"But it never does! If I relay an idea or two into my works, it sells no secrets! Who do you think I am!" He flashed her an indignant look of noble hurt and shoved a piece of steak into his mouth, chewing vigorously. Another thought came to him, placing a frown on his brow. "You spoken to him about it, then? Or you confided in Geralt? I wonder if he's more open with his brother, for if they have anything in common it's that stoic nature that one cannot read. They both are so equally hard to get to know! Frustrating people."

"I've told him. He doesn't feel the same. It is simple, really."

"He told you that? That he felt nothing for you? Dear Ciri, it doesn't really seem that way from the side. He looks at you very... tenderly." He swallowed some mashed potatoes and washed it down with mulled wine, smacking his lips in pleasure. "Besides, take Geralt for an example. If they're related, there are the same issues with expressing feelings."

"I am sure he does look at me tenderly. Like his brother's ward." She took a sip of her drink. "I have not asked him for declarations of love. Only to let me know whether or not there was a chance our friendship could eventually grow into something more. And from everything he told me in return, my conclusion is no."

Dandelion hemmed pensively, chewing. "Perhaps you misunderstood things he said in return? I don't suppose you - much like your Witcher - are skilled in this fine art of romance. It takes a lot of wisdom and even more experience."

"I kissed him. He did not kiss me back. I said I wanted him in my bed. He ignored it. What am I supposed to think?"

Dandelion clucked his tongue and smiled mysteriously. "There might be things you don't think about due to your youth and passionate blood. And yet it might be a plethora of reasons for his reluctance. His brother is like a father to you, your... Yennefer is a menace on her own accord, and there is always a trouble to deal with, and there might be some old flame he cannot forget... The list can be continued."

She shrugged. "They all still result in him not wanting to be with me the way I do him. It will cause me less pain if I simply let go of my stupid notions of love and focus on, you know, not getting kidnapped."

"That's just sad," the poet commented, eagerly working on his dinner. "The grand romances always take time. Look at Geralt and Yennefer. The years it was taking them to simply not fight or argue while in the same space... argh! And now that damned wish."

"I was never looking for grand romances. I just wanted something more than... this." Her meal mostly consumed, she pushed her plate aside. "And don't get me started on Geralt and Yennefer. I'm losing my faith more and more each day."

"Losing hope is wrong," Dandelion sighed, refilling their cups. "They'll get through it. If she broke it, she will find a way to fix it." He sipped his wine and gave her a meek smile, "At least you will know by example what not to do in your own romances."

"Don't involve a djinn?" she ventured.

"Among other things, yes." He grinned.

"I should get back to the clinic," Ciri said eventually. "I came here to help. Surely there must be something I can do other than serve dinner. Like redress wounds."

Dandelion's face got gloomier, he sighed and refilled his cup. "They've been treated with magic and dressings all day long. Another few minutes without your expert hands won't change anything, Ciri."

She sat back, watching him. "Why is everyone so against me trying to help? Am I that much of a bother?"

"Of course not. We haven't seen each other for a long time, and after all the stresses and horrors, I'm enjoying a moment of peace with you. Is that wrong?"

"No," she smiled. "In fact, it's lovely. I'm sorry, Dandelion. I'm just... my head is filled with silly insecurities."

"But I'm here," Dandelion said, spreading his arms grinning. "I have time and experience. I can hear you out and offer advice. Tell me about it. What can a perfect child like you be insecure about?"

"That. That is one," she pointed out. "The whole _child_ thing. It's one thing for everyone to feel protective of me, but at times they all act as though things would be better if Avallac'h knocked me out and sent me to that magical island again. Safe and out of everyone's way."

Astonishment stroked through Dandelion's face. "That's... It can't be true, Ciri! Geralt has been near insane and restless every day of not having you around. He would never allow anyone to throw you away on some island. What makes you think that?"

"He didn't want me to come here. I could feel it. And Kain questioned it at first as well. Whenever there is something to be done, everyone always agrees I should stay behind. Preferably within the confines of your inn. In bed."

Dandelion sighed, peering at her with compassionate warmth. "That time while Geralt didn't know where you were didn't do him any good, Ciri. He's been having nightmares and thinking he failed you in the most horrid way. And now he's so scared to lose you, to have anyone take you away when he won't be able to stop it, it might create problems between you. Your reunion is still fresh, and he wants to protect you from everything. If you had children, you might understand him." He sipped his wine.

"I do understand him. And I appreciate how he feels. But him trying to protect me feels a lot like him pushing me away at times. And that hurts. I want to be with him always. I know that is impossible, but that is how I feel.

"I want to reassure his anxieties, but I also need to have my freedom to choose how to act and what to do. I just want him to realize I am not as incapable and fragile as he thinks me to be."

"You scared them a lot with your stunt during the battle," the poet reminded. "You scared me, too - that wound was nasty. He might be still digesting that chance he had to lose you again. You were in danger and he could do nothing."

"You think I don't fear for him every time he goes out to battle? When he goes to see Dijkstra to participate in his lethal schemes? Or even just slaying monsters? Of course, I do. But I would never try to stop him from doing what he felt was right."

She leaned back in her chair and threw her hair over her shoulder.

"And it wasn't a stunt. That was me saving someone I care about. I refuse to apologize for it. It was worth it. Would always be worth it."

"I never said you had anything to apologize for. But Geralt is Geralt. There's close to nothing we can do to correct his behavior. Unless you ask Yennefer to talk to him. Or hell, maybe his brother. I mean, he seems to have replaced me with him, so you might want to use that fact to your advantage. It's not like he ever listened to me and my reason much. Well, maybe just a tiny bit. Every now and then..." He stared into space dramatically and drank.

"Not sure he and Yennefer are on good enough terms for him to listen to her," she murmured, then eyed Dandelion curiously. "You feel you've been replaced?"

He pondered and shrugged uncertainly. "Where is he now? I would bet he's with Kain. Normally he'd be here with me and you." He looked at her with a you-decide expression and finished his drink.

"Would you usually tag along when he is scouting perimeters for danger?" she asked, surprised. "Outside of your travels, I mean?"

Dandelion scoffed derisively. "I could."

"But would you want to?"

"It wouldn't hurt him to ask," he huffed.

"Well, you should tell him. Volunteer for the chores he is doing."

"What's the point when he has a perfect partner now who never gets in trouble, is a witcher himself, and can level an army with magic alone?"

"Kain is amazing." Ciri leaned in as if delivering a secret. "But he lacks certain traits you have in abundance. You can be certain Kain is not singing to Geralt. Nor challenging his way of thinking. You do that."

"And you think Geralt enjoys being sung to or challenged? No, my darling Ciri, he does not."

She shrugged. "Doesn't mean he doesn't need it."

"He turns very unpleasant whenever I believe he needs it, and then I have to put up with his endless sulkiness and brooding."

Ciri smiled. "You're talking yourself out of being his friend now."

"No. I merely refuse to chase him when it's obvious where his preferences lie." He downed the remaining wine and stood up. "Let's go back to your sick and wounded. Those at least do need you."

She stood as well and, quite uncharacteristically, slid her arms around Dandelion, hugging him to her. "You have a special place in my heart. No one could ever replace you."

It was important he knew. Maybe it would bring him some comfort when he felt blue.

He smiled despite the mood to sulk, and so they walked out, his arm around her waist as he hummed the melody from one of his ballads.


	51. Chapter 51

After watching Geralt leave Yennefer felt exhausted, lonely (more alone than she ever had since she and Geralt found one another) and helpless. She hadn't felt that way since she was a child dealing with her detestable parents and those toad-like people in her township. She'd been beneath them then, barely human, and now—for the first time in what felt like ages—that's all she felt.

Human.

_Too_ human.

Life had been easier when she didn't care, yearn or long for someone's touch or love.

He didn't outright say he didn't have time to be with her, or that he didn't care for it anymore to make an effort to deal with their situation, but her mind kept torturing her with grim thoughts of how it meant he'd die without fully knowing her again – knowing what their life felt like in full bloom.

She could still feel his mouth on her and his hands on her body. She could even imagine that it was done out of love and familiarity.

It wasn't, was it?

Yennefer stared at her face, her lips drawn down with displeasure, a grimace on her features as she sat down at the dresser and proceeded to reapply her make-up. She ran a brush through her hair, made sure that her curls were perfectly shaped and with spring and then slowly got to her feet, heading to speak to the sorceresses.

She knocked once and entered their room before anyone could beckon her from the other side. Philippa was in bed, propped by a dozen pillows, Margarita on its other side flipping through a book. One had sensed Yennefer's immediate presence and hadn't bothered to look up, the other politely welcomed her inside, going so far to close her book, setting it down on the bedside table.

"What is it we can do for you, Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg?" Philippa asked.

"Geralt and the rest of the team are heading back to Oxenfurt to help with the repairs. They'd like you to join them."

"No," Philippa retorted. "We've spent enough time aiding and lending you our resources."

"It wasn't a request," Yennefer snapped.

Philippa looked up then, the bandage she'd been wearing when she first appeared no longer present, just a stare that was as sharp and as restless as two knives.

"Your job's not done," Yennefer clarified.

"Of course it is," Philippa stated. "We said we'd help with The Wild Hunt, and that's precisely what we did. The fact that they weren't defeated changes nothing, but the terms."

Margarita's gaze danced between the two.

"They're stronger than we anticipated," she presented as an excuse. Philippa's gaze snapped to her, lips thinned into an unmoving line of displeasure.

"We can still defeat them," Yennefer entreated, keeping her tone from sounding as though she was trying to beg. She'd never done that in their company (or anyone's) and never would.

"You sound sure," Philippa added. "Too certain. Do you know something we don't?"

She swung her legs off the covers and stood, sauntering toward Yennefer, her head canting to scan her from head to toe as if trying to peer through her layers.

"No, I don't."

"Is this your method of an encouraging talk then?" Philippa asked.

"Something like that," Yennefer supplied.

"It's wretched."

Margarita also got to her feet, coming to stand beside the two women.

"Philippa's correct. It's not your speech, it's The Wild Hunt. Now that Radovid has been taken care of, I need to get back out there, search for any students that may have escaped his pyres and the Witch Hunters, and make sure they stay safe."

"You can still do that," Yennefer added.

"Not if I'm dead," Margarita mused.

"You promised Ciri you'd help."

Philippa stepped in front of her, smiling like a shark.

"She did. We both did. In fact, I think we've more than fairly repaid what we owe Geralt," Philippa stated.

Yennefer wanted badly to fill them with a lightening, char them inside out and be done with them out of mere frustration. It had been hard enough finding them the first time, negotiating some kind of longstanding agreement, but now they were trying to change it up again and bail?

"Far from it. If it wasn't for Geralt, or Ciri, you'd have been tied to a stake and burned—" This Yennefer pointedly directed at Margarita (the more understanding of the two), and then at Philippa. "And you'd still be blind."

"Temporarily," Philippa elaborated snidely, making it clear that in no circumstance did she actually need Geralt or anyone else to help her achieve her revenge. "Our debts have been paid."

Yennefer growled softly, whirling away from the two, intending to storm out so that she could go in search of someone else to talk sense into them. Triss, perhaps.

"Don't think us unreasonable, Yennefer. We may just be up for negotiation," Philippa said so softly that Yennefer had to pause at the door and fix them with a look, to be sure that she'd even heard her correctly. From her tone, Yennefer knew they were already revisiting an old debate that just would not stop rearing its ugly head.

"Which one are you pressing for this time? Ciri or Kain?"

Philippa shrugged innocently. "Both."

Yennefer stared. So, they'd picked up on the fact that Ciri liked Kain, and were going to use it against her to try and make them have the offspring they wanted?

Yennefer sighed and shook her head, whirling on her heels once more, stepping out of the room, slamming the door behind her for effect, recalling a portal in another instant to carry her toward Oxenfurt.

* * *

They left the horses at the hitchrail and went on foot, heading for the Novigrad gate to get out of the city. Both witchers were light on their feet, their pace swift, their breath controlled habitually.

It was dark, and the sky was peppered with stars, a waning moon hung among them spilling pale light over the land. The village across the bridge was quiet, and though some lit windows betrayed the still awake inhabitants, no one was seen outside. Not even any dogs barked when Geralt and Kain passed along the path and turned left, walking along the river bank.

"We should check on the herbalist tomorrow morning," Geralt said. "He must be trying to sleep now. Wouldn't be right to bother him."

"Probably not. Though I would check around his hut to make sure."

They did. And found no traces of elves or their hounds. There was a crackle of fire inside, Geralt heard, be it a stove or a fireplace, but barely any other sounds. There were no bodies around the property, either.

They stalked around the hut once more, then heard a faint snoring from the inside and retreated on quiet feet.

"That time when you found them here," Geralt said when they walked along the shore and past the hill the halfling lived on, "what made you come to this place?"

Kain shrugged. "I was merely doing a recon. I can't sense them like a bloodhound, not until they are near."

"Were they deserters? Escaped from the city?"

The Cat Witcher thought about it. "I don't think any of those who fought on the market square deserted," he said eventually. "Seems like those were outside all along. As backup, more likely."

"Wasn't much of a backup for an army."

"It was nothing like what we had at Kaer Morhen. There were fewer Riders here, and they must have had some plan. But I fail to see it."

"That makes a lot of us." Geralt scowled, keeping a watchful eye around while he contemplated. "Avallac'h was with you when I came."

"He must've followed me. Helped me with a spell or two - same as the one he was using in battle." Geralt peered at him with a mute hunch of suspicion, and Kain simpered, "A stunning-spell. He killed none of them, Geralt. In his own words, he considers them Eredin's accessories who didn't know any better and don't deserve to die for it."

"He told you that?"

Kain nodded.

Geralt mulled it over grimly. "You're telling me that while those Riders were killing people, Avallac'h was sparing them."

"They got stunned and eventually killed by someone's hand."

"But not by his."

"No."

Geralt cursed under his breath. "Who's to guarantee he won't spare his Golden Child when it comes to our final battle. Or any next one."

"His what?"

"What I meant to tell you," Geralt said and shared what Ciri revealed about Caranthir's connection to the Sage. Kain listened attentively, finding himself not surprised.

"Perhaps he's been Avallac'h's backup plan all along," he mused. "It would make sense."

"What do you mean?"

"He merely waits for us to develop a closer bond to use it to his people's advantage. And if that fails, he can always manipulate Ciri into a trade - say, buy my life or yours or Yennefer's for her compliance to get her to go with him to his world where he can breed her with that mage."

Geralt's face hardened in cold rage. "Not going to happen."

"You see, though, why she and I better not be together," Kain said. "I don't want her to feel too much and fall a prey to those feelings."

Geralt had a hard time battling anger in response to what he had learned, but his features softened somewhat when he took a gander at his brother. "What about _your_ feelings? Are you certain of them?"

"I'm not certain of anything, Geralt. There is simply no time for digging around in one's feelings."

"I understand your sentiment, but also know that one's feelings hate to listen to reason."

"My feelings are well trained."

Geralt smirked to himself at the familiarity of the idea.

"What else did you want to discuss?" Kain asked. "Away from Ciri?"

Geralt nodded and told him about Dijkstra and his hints.

Kain understood the graveness of the situation. "It would be a disaster if the Hunt began to kill people all over the land in her name. Ciri would become an outcast for the whole world."

"It would be a solid plan worthy of Eredin's campaign, wouldn't it?" Geralt remarked with a bitter knowing smile.

"Of course! Maybe it's exactly where they're aiming. To drive her out for certain. As good as smoking out nekkers from their nests. A sure prize."

"How do we prevent it?" Geralt asked. "The only way is ending Eredin. Before we do, his campaign shall continue."

"That means we have to find a way to draw him out to where we want him and not the other way around."

Geralt scratched his head, heaving a sigh. "Easier said than done."

They returned after two hours of absence and booked a room at _The_ _Alchemy_ before checking how things were at the clinic.

Things there were versatile, depending on the wounds. Shani looked tired, darker shadows resting beneath her eyes, but it didn't kill her enthusiasm at the sight of the two witchers.

"I hope you found no new threats," she said, wiping her hands on a rag. "We have barely contained the crisis, we cannot have another one."

"Doesn't seem like you'll have it," Geralt said. "There are no signs of any enemy's reinforcements."

"Ah, good news," she smiled, and waved a hand behind her. "Ciri's been doing very good aiding us. But even if healed, I hope you advise her to catch some sleep. You all need it. Do you need any rooms? We have some guest quarters at the Academy."

"No, thank you, we have taken care of it."

"Ciri does need a room to sleep in," Kain ventured. "If you can..."

"Of course I will," Shani assured. "Would you like dinner?"

They exchanged glances and shook their heads.

"We'll opt for breakfast upon waking," Geralt said. "Thank you. Have you seen Dandelion?"

"I believe he's gone back to the Academy. He's been here earlier, talking to Ciri."

"I see," Geralt murmured, seeking Ciri out among the medics.

Ciri looked up from her work of redressing the wound of an injured elderly man, eyeing Geralt curiously. "Hey. All good on your patrol?"

"Seems that way so far," he said. "Have the remaining sorceresses arrived yet?"

"Haven't seen them." She stood, disposing of the old bandages in a wastebasket. "Stop by Dandelion before you retire for the night. I think he misses you."

"It will take time searching for him," Geralt said. "I'll see him tomorrow. You need rest, too. Don't forget about it."

"I won't. I'll sleep when it's time," she promised with a reassuring smile, drying her hands on a clean rag.

The Witcher smiled, then wished Shani a good night and went out after Kain. They headed back to _The Alchemy_, both craving a bit of rest.

"I am going to get some shuteye. You should join me in that," Shani said when yet another hour had passed. "My medical students are coming in to help for the night. We take it in shifts."

"Oh," Ciri looked around uncertainly, bloodied washbasin in her hands.

Shani took pity on her, retrieved the basin and handed it off to one of her passing students. "We have a room available for you upstairs."

"Are you certain you don't need it for the patients? I don't want to take away from them."

Shani smiled. "I would not have offered it to you if I wasn't sure. Come on, I'll show you the way."

After another moment of hesitation, Ciri resigned and followed the young medic upstairs to try and get some sleep.

* * *

Ciri had not slept much, her mind too preoccupied for that. She'd run out of potions to secure her dreams from Eredin and if he was still isolated on that island, she could only imagine how angry and vengeful he would be.

She got out of bed in the early morning and headed downstairs to the clinic to see what she could do to help the medical students taking care of the wounded.

After Yennefer arrived to Oxenfurt, she went in search of her family, finding them to be all over the place, until in due course they disappeared to get some rest.

She wasn't tired, doubting she could even sleep if she wanted, so instead, until early into the morning, stayed up to help repair the damaged buildings. Yennefer even put extra pressure on herself to make up for where she'd failed in recruiting Philippa and Margarita to join them again.

"Do you need something to drink?" a woman with a nest of red hair asked. Yennefer had heard around that she was named Shani. Shani had recognized the mage, too, from the battle and Dandelion's stories.

"No," Yennefer added.

She didn't smile at the woman. Not because she didn't like her, but because she was exhausted and concentrating on repairing the fixtures of a roof.

"You should eat," Shani suggested.

"As soon as I've finished with the herbalist store."

"This is my clinic," Shani added, sounding grateful, like she'd been worried she wouldn't see it in shape for a while. "I can't thank you enough for doing what you're doing."

Yennefer managed the smallest of smiles, redirecting her magic to a part of the wall that had been knocked out by the Wild Hunt soldiers or their dogs.

"It's the least I can do."

Shani stared at Yennefer a while longer in silence, rising slowly to go in search of her students and to leave the sorceresses with her thoughts.

"One of your sorceresses is outside," Shani informed Ciri just as the latter had finished serving breakfast to the last bed on her row.

"Which one?" Ciri asked, brushing her hair from her forehead.

"Dark-haired. Beautiful. If I remember Dandelion's ballads correctly, she is Yennefer of Vengerberg," Shani said, looking torn between intimidation and admiration. A lot of people felt that way about Yennefer.

"My favourite," Ciri smiled, removing the apron she'd donned while handing out food and stepping outside to find her mother. It didn't take long. Her magical signature was strong, indicating the sorceress was hard at work.

"Are you alone?" Ciri asked, looking up and down the street. "Where are Philippa and Margarita?"

Yennefer nodded gently, keeping her gaze fixed ahead so she wouldn't make a mistake while she messed with the structure.

"They're not coming. They feel they've repaid their debt."

Ciri frowned. "They didn't do anything."

"Not physically. They were on standby, and apparently that was enough."

Yennefer finished with the building, surveying her work a moment longer before turning to Ciri. "They only signed up for one war. Not a repeat."

"Horseshit!" Ciri cried. "We did not recruit them for this battle. The deal was they help us get rid of The Hunt. They have not delivered."

"You could try explaining that to them, but I doubt that they'll care to listen. Margarita wants to get back out there to help who or what might remain of her students, and Philippa doesn't care. She wants to renegotiate."

"Then we'll renegotiate. I'll make certain their pardons are null and void. See how they feel then."

"Might not be a bad idea to remind them of that," Yennefer mused. But it would also go a whole other way. "We don't want to make enemies of them again. At least not yet."

"They are already our enemies. We're all just pretending otherwise," Ciri murmured, kicking at a broken cobblestone.

"We know that and they know that. They could have decided not to help us at all and solely used Geralt's help to get themselves free. I'll ask Triss to talk to them."

Yennefer looked around as if she expected her to appear nearby.

"Where is she?"

"I haven't seen her today. She might be sleeping. It's still early." Ciri gestured towards the clinic. "Come on, I'll show you where she's spent most of her time."

Yennefer swiped her hands against her pants, falling into step beside Ciri, letting her lead her for the clinic. "Did you manage to rest?"

"A little. Though I felt guilty taking up a bed."

She opened the door and stepped inside. A few of the beds that had been occupied the night before were now cleared. Hopefully, they had recovered enough to go home.

"Shani?" Ciri caught the medic's attention while she checked on a woman's stitches. "Do you know where Triss is?"

"She and Fringilla are sharing a room upstairs. I expect they are still asleep. They've been such a big help," Shani said with a grateful smile. "Makes me wish I could always have a sorceress at hand to help manage my patients' pain."

"If you have the right kind of funds, I'm sure that you could," Yennefer supplied. She hadn't meant herself. There were many sorcerers that could be bought.

She glanced at Ciri, gesturing for her to head upstairs with her. Her face would come in handy trying to manipulate Triss into making sure that the Lodge stuck to their deal.

"Excuse us a moment," Yennefer said, grasping Ciri's shoulder gently, directing her toward the first-floor stairs.

"You're using me," Ciri pointed out, though she didn't deny the sorceress what she wanted. They climbed the stairs and knocked on two of the closed doors before they found the right room.

From the looks of it, Triss and Fringilla had only just woken and were getting themselves ready for the day.

"Ciri! Yennefer..." Triss exclaimed upon seeing them. "Is something wrong?"

"A lot's wrong," Yennefer stated. "Philippa is refusing to rejoin the fight. She feels she's done her job."

Triss rubbed her hands against her eyes, groaning softly as she tried to let go of the sudden exhaustion that had claimed her at the mention of Yennefer's difficulties with Philippa.

"However, she's willing to renegotiate."

Triss met Yennefer's eyes, sensing there was more to come.

"Guess what for?"

Triss's gaze bounced to Ciri.

"And Kain. It seems she wants to breed them like livestock."

Triss grimaced. Fringilla, on the other hand, appeared to be studying her nails.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Triss asked.

"I want you to talk sense into Philippa. Remind her that if it wasn't for Ciri she wouldn't have ongoing freedom and would've found herself in one of Emhyr's enclosures."

Fringilla appeared to flush at the prospect of going back there.

"I've to get something to eat," she interjected, heading for the door, deciding she wanted no part of this discussion, proving that in spite of Philippa's decision she'd be staying.

Yennefer didn't stop her.

Ciri blanched at the revelation Yennefer spoke, remaining silent until Fringilla left and there was room to interject.

"Did she say that? Did she actually say those words?" Ciri demanded.

"Philippa didn't have to. I know her."

Triss even had the audacity to look guilty, giving away her own part in the scenario.

"It was your idea, wasn't it?"

Triss's eyes widened slightly, surprised to have her thought aired out loud.

"I—I mentioned that the two of them were getting friendlier," Triss excused.

The betrayal hit Ciri in the chest like a fist. She watched Triss; that familiar face that had once brought her comfort. Now Ciri felt she did not know her at all.

"How could you?" she asked, fighting to hold back tears. "How could you do this to me?"

Triss immediately stepped toward Ciri, trying to embrace her, to soothe the hurt she'd caused and explain – only she didn't know how.

"Philippa would have found out herself."

Ciri broke away immediately, going so far as to push the sorceress back. "You just wanted to make it easier for her?"

She was seething and, like always in these situations, not handling it well. Her body quaked with unspent energy and rage. "Any of you lay a finger on him, on me, and I will destroy you."

Ciri turned and stormed out. This was not a good place to be at the moment.

Triss looked almost as broken as Ciri sounded. Routine Yennefer knew Triss fell into often – an evasion setting – one she often used on Geralt and Yennefer herself.

"Fix it," Yennefer demanded, leaving her 'friend' little time to think about it, staring her down in warning, her eyes blazing as she moved for the door to catch up to Ciri.

Ciri rushed down the stairs and manoeuvred her way between the beds downstairs, out the front door as quickly as she was able. Her blood was boiling and she could feel a flush of heat attack her cheeks and the back of her neck.

She was so tired of it all – not knowing who she could trust. First Avallac'h, now Triss. It hurt more than she liked to admit.

Yennefer had a hold of Ciri's energy, trailing it like a bloodhound, keeping a solid pace behind her to make sure she had space to vent.

Ciri walked without aim, no idea where she was going. She was not familiar with Oxenfurt and knew none of the streets or alleys she angrily navigated through. But it did not matter. All she knew was that she could not stop. If she did, something awful would happen. Something she'd regret later.

When she eventually made it down to the water's edge where a large merchant ship was docked, she paced the length of the harbour, her gaze set on the shore on the other side of the bay, searching for signs of movement. Drowners. Or a sea hag. She'd even take a kikimore if it came along right now. Anything she could stab her sword into to alleviate the hurt currently clasping her heart.

Despite all the magic Yennefer had already used, she didn't hesitate to conjure up one of the outlets Ciri was mentally craving. A drowner a short distance away.

It was a strange sight – a drowner emerging just as Ciri wished it would. As though she'd conjured it by her thoughts alone. That was a frightening notion. One she didn't have much time to ponder as the creature waddled closer, dragging mud and water onto the docks as it came for her.

Ciri pulled her sword and advanced. She didn't move to kill. Not at once. She wanted the fight to last, to feel her heart pound in her ears and experience that rush of adrenaline. So she dodged and rolled and avoided the beast as it clawed at the air around her, dancing and twirling while the drowner worked itself up into a frenzied hunger. It was a game. One she needed to expel the pain that was so intense it threatened to choke her.

Ciri hadn't noticed her in the background and Yennefer made no attempt to make it so, watching as she toyed with the conjured beast. Prepared to summon another as soon as she'd rid herself of it, intending to do it over and over until she could feel Ciri's anger begin to abate and that the girl'd had enough. Ciri had a lot she needed to work through, and if this was the way it was to be done, then Yennefer would aid her until she couldn't, anymore, or both of them were spent.

* * *

"You seem preoccupied," Geralt noted, fastening his sword belt.

Kain rubbed his face and put on his jerkin. "Had some jumbled dreams about that swamp... where the Crones lived. Where the remaining one lives."

Geralt frowned subtly. "Is that important?"

"She's still in cahoots with the Hunt," Kain reasoned. "She is the Weavess. I'm not certain of her ability to spy on us, but she has my blood, and she can plot. It's in her nature. Who knows whether her sisters' talents have passed to her after their demise."

"You implying she has been the one keeping the Hunt updated on our plans?" Geralt asked. "I thought she lost her power after she lost her sisters. Their magic was intertwined. If she got stronger or-"

"Perhaps she's not stronger but weaker," Kain mused. "Though in either case, she hasn't abandoned her wish for revenge."

"In that case, we have to finish what you and Ciri started," the Witcher concluded.

They finished their breakfast quickly and went for a patrol. People were back on the streets helping to get the market square to work again. Many students and professors from the Academy were working hard along with the citizens.

* * *

Ciri continued her dance, twirling and feinting as the drowner attempted to catch her with teeth and claws. It dawned on her how unusual it was for one of them to roam alone. They usually came in packs, these monsters. Were the others lingering nearby waiting for a prime opportunity to attack?

But no others came. Not while Ciri continued to toy with her current opponent.

She was starting to become bored until one of the drowner's claws slashed across her collarbone. She felt the heat of pain immediately and found herself to be smiling. Though blood did not well in abundance, it was enough to drive the drowner's hunger to a new height. He fought harder, wilder, and so she was forced to move faster to dodge his attacks.

When this, too, became dull, she countered the beast's attacks. Its head soon fell from its shoulders and rolled towards Ciri's feet, its face permanently frozen in a look of fury.

The moment it ended, so did the relief she had felt while fighting. Nothing but a temporary comfort.

As soon as the drowner's head hit the ground, momentarily displaying its last end, it vanished in a cloud of nothingness. It wasn't hard to read Ciri.

"I thought releasing your energy would help. You still seem wound up. What else can I do?"

Ciri turned to see Yennefer and sighed, sheathing her sword. She should have known. "Nothing. There's nothing to be done."

"I could conjure up something larger. Deadlier. Eredin?"

Yennefer could feel the magic taking its toll, but did it anyway, summoning up the figure in full regalia as she'd last seen him in their fight. She'd heard and seen enough of him to understand and replicate his mannerisms, although, they were sluggish.

"Philippa?"

Another figure beside him, almost hand in hand, each there for the taking and to help Ciri execute more of her frustrations.

Ciri's breath caught in her throat as the black-clad elf of her nightmares rose from the ground like a ghost. Just the image of him made her feel small and useless. Like a mouse.

She didn't even notice Philippa's form beside him.

"Make him go away," she demanded, and when Yennefer didn't comply quickly enough, screamed: "NOW!"

Illusions though they may have been, both Eredin and Philippa's eyes filled with blood, soon turning both beautiful faces into monstrous masks. Trickles of blood also erupted from their nostrils and ears.

Ciri did not know if she was responsible or if it was Yennefer's doing. All she could focus on was the sudden piercing ringing in her head that made her clench her eyes shut and grasp her temples.

Whatever Ciri had done had hit straight through the illusion, cutting Yennefer's magic off at the knees with a ringing so loud she could swear she was going deaf, producing blood from her ears and nose in much the same fashion it had on the figures she'd been opposing.

"STOP!" Yennefer hissed out, directing a rush of magic toward Ciri once she was able, not enough to hurt her, but to knock her off-kilter and hopefully distract her from another full-fledged meltdown.

Something hard and solid collided with Ciri's side and knocked her off her feet. The painful ringing instantly disappeared, which was a great relief to her mind, making the discomfort of being tipped over entirely worth it.

She breathed, pushing herself up from the cobblestones. Eredin's image was no longer there. Nor Philippa's. But Yennefer was still there and she looked like a nightmare.

"No," Ciri murmured, guilt and fear clenching her stomach like a vice as she hurried to the sorceress' side. "I didn't mean to... I'm sorry, I..."

Her voice fell away. As did her hands, scared to touch Yennefer and inflict further pain. Or what she truly feared – rejection.

The witchers went through the market square into the docks and that was where they found Yennefer and Ciri: the girl was facing the sorceress that looked like something big and angry ran her over.

They hurried up to them, jogging along the shore.

"What the hell is going on here?" Geralt demanded.

"Ciri," Yennefer began, refusing to remove her gaze from the girl as Geralt and Kain appeared. "We had an incident. It wasn't Ciri's fault."

It truly hadn't been. Yennefer took full responsibility for that. She also didn't want Ciri to run because of it.

"I was just stupid, I shouldn't have – I'm sorry."

Geralt regarded them intensely, scowling in worry as he studied Yennefer. "What exactly have you done? Are you injured? How bad?"

Ciri couldn't tell if Yennefer was still bleeding or if it had abated. Couldn't even tell if the sorceress was in pain. But Ciri was. She couldn't believe she'd hurt Yennefer.

"I lost control... I didn't mean to..." she whispered, her gaze dropping to her feet, completely ashamed and currently loathing herself for what she had sworn never to do.

Yennefer disregarded Geralt's questions, focusing solely on Ciri who was being uncharacteristically demure. She was the one in need of comfort right now – not him.

She crossed the small distance between them, purely attempting to touch a hand to Ciri's shoulder, hopeful that she could soothe over their escapade.

"I know you didn't, I didn't mean to set you off like that, either – that was my fault. All my fault."

Yennefer touched an index finger to Ciri's chin, making sure their eyes connected.

"Do you hear me?"

That was not how Ciri saw it, but she nodded nonetheless because it felt like what Yennefer wanted.

She was acutely aware of Geralt and Kain beside her and felt even smaller than before. Maybe they had been right in wanting her to stay behind at the inn? She silently prayed Avallac'h would never find out about this incident, lest he lock her away somewhere as punishment.

"I need some space," Ciri breathed, slowly backtracking to get away from the harbour.

Yennefer wanted to insist that she stay, that she not run away, but there was absolutely nothing she could say. She should have known better.

"Geralt, go after her," Yennefer stated in a low beseeching murmur, hardly tearing her eyes off Ciri as she started way.

Only to glance at the two as they silently communicated.

Geralt glanced after Ciri, conflicted, then caught Kain's eyes and nodded toward her subtly.

Kain understood but hesitated by the Witcher's side. "Do you need healing?" he asked Yennefer. "You look rundown."

"Go, it's all right," Geralt said quietly. "I'll deal with this. Ciri can't be alone now."

Kain obeyed and jogged away.

"What did you do to provoke her?" Geralt asked again, examining Yennefer, then picked her up and headed back through the arch into the city. "What happened between you two?"

"I'm fine," Yennefer said, although it was unnecessary, Kain was already heading after Ciri and Geralt had scooped her into his arms. "I was trying to help her work through her frustrations. I—I went a bit too far with my illusions."

Yennefer wanted to be in his arms and yet somehow she wasn't taking as much solace in her position.

"You can put me down."

"I'll put you down at the Clinic," Geralt said. "Tell me what illusions you mean, Yennefer? Why would she do that to you?"

"I can walk," Yennefer said stubbornly. She didn't resist his hold. "I was trying to help her. I made a mistake. I nearly broke our girl."

Geralt sighed with mild annoyance. "Can you be more specific? What mistake was it? You're lucky she stopped. Were that a fit she threw back at Kaer Morhen, you'd be dead along with the rest of the city."

"You think I don't know that?" Yennefer asked, glaring at him with mild annoyance of her own. "I… does it matter? I managed to stop her."

Yennefer also knew that it could have gone the opposite way, which is why Ciri looked lost and forlorn. Yennefer hated being the cause of that. She began to wiggle in his arms, attempting to becoming aggravating enough so that he'd set her down on her feet. She suddenly couldn't stand the fact that he was cradling her.

"Stop behaving like a child," he reprimanded, holding her in a firm grip. The Clinic was two buildings away. "And yes, it matters to know what exactly sets her off and makes her forget who she is dealing with."

Yennefer hissed like a snake in a trap, and then relented once more. She could make him set her down, she knew that, had done it to multiple men. She didn't want to take her rage out of him, though – not anymore.

She fell silent, her eyes lifting to see the looming clinic.

"I conjured up an illusion of Eredin and Philippa for her to take her frustration out on."

Geralt shot her a shocked look, then let out a long exhale, ruling down his emotions, and said nothing until he was inside the clinic. There, he put her carefully to her feet and proffered a meek smile to Shani who approached.

"Oh gods, what happened?" She looked at Yennefer with wide eyes. "Are there more out there? You got attacked?"

"A minor magical accident," Geralt said. "No elves involved."

"Let me wipe the blood off and see if we can aid you?" Shani asked Yennefer, smiling with warm friendliness and a slight trepidation one has dealing with something unearthly.

"I'm fine," Yennefer stated begrudgingly. For the first time in her life, she didn't care about her appearance. "This is really unnecessary."

"Nonsense," Shani chided, pressing a hand to her shoulder, practically shoving into a chair so that she could inspect Yennefer from head to toe.

Yennefer sat down, enduring the physician's fussing and wet cloth as Shani wiped the dried blood from her ears and nose.

"Do you have a headache?"

Yennefer shook her head. She was lying. She'd pushed herself repairing buildings, then aiding Ciri, the latter of which had taken it out of her as if punished.

"I'll live."

Shani ignored Yennefer's glib answer and proceeded to check her over. When Shani finished her appraisal, she left, sensing the two had a bit more to talk about.

"We've a few days at our disposal before The Wild Hunt resurface. I think… that it's best if I go away for a bit, give you time to help Ciri, keep her mind – calm."

The Witcher folded his arms, watching her with a stern frown. "It's like you're fleeing after making a mistake with her. We don't know about the Hunt and when they strike again, but we do know how Ciri will immediately think you abandoned her after she accidentally attacked you. How would that make her feel, do you care?"

"Of course I care," Yennefer snapped defensively. She met his frown head-on with a glare of her own, jerking to her feet. "You'd know that if you knew me, and not for one second would you ever fathom to question me about it or make me feel guilty for it."

She already felt remorseful. As well as Geralt for asking something he already knew. It wasn't fair to take his worry out on her, he realized, but both Ciri's outburst and Yennefer's injuries gave him a scare.

"She can't keep living like this," Yennefer lamented. "You should take her somewhere. Let her rest, let her try and recuperate so that when The Wild Hunt appears again she'll be in more control of her emotions. What she's dealing with is too much. It's too much for anyone and there's no possible way for us to get close enough to understand it, but we can manage it."

"Where am I supposed to take her?" Geralt spread his arms. "Somewhere to lock her up? Like Mother Nenneke' Temple? Ciri will want to stay where her friends are, where she can do something for them - where she is now."

"No," Yennefer retorted and sighed. "Take her somewhere beautiful, somewhere she can feel free and enjoy her life for a while. Where she can continue to practice. You're telling me that in your travels you haven't come across such a place?"

He squinted ironically at her. "Why don't you go and offer it to her? I'm not leaving for anywhere beautiful until I find out whether the world is safe."

"Fine," Yennefer said, smoothing her hands against her sides, turning her back on him so she could head out of the medical center in search of Ciri.


	52. Chapter 52

Ciri turned and walked briskly up the sloping hill, back towards the center of Oxenfurt. But that wasn't a good place to be, either. Most of the city had woken up, and more and more people were outside in the streets. She didn't want to draw attention and stuck to the less populated ones, keeping her gaze on the ground in front of her, only peering up every now and then to make sure she didn't collide with her fellow pedestrians.

Kain could catch up with her pretty quickly, but he took advantage of her not looking back, and allowed her to stride alone until she neared the gate leading out of the city.

"Ciri," he called, jogging up. "Yennefer will be fine. Don't haul so much guilt on yourself - it won't help you."

Ciri hadn't even noticed Kain following her and was therefore brought up short when she heard his voice. She paused in her tracks. "Avallac'h always said this would happen. That I would hurt someone I love. I just didn't listen."

"Maybe you shouldn't listen to him that much when all he says is scaring you with failures."

She tucked her hair behind her ear, unable to meet his gaze for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"When he threatens you with all the horrors you're capable of due to a power he doesn't even understand because he hasn't experienced it firsthand, it makes you believe you will snap and do those things. You fear it in advance, and then something happens to throw you off balance, and your fear pushes you further than you would go without it. He makes you afraid and thus damages your self-control when the stress hits."

"Maybe," she admitted, turning to continue walking. Standing still felt uncomfortable. "Have you ever lost control?"

"I've never done what you can do, but during my training with the druids, I've made plenty of mistakes. Druid magic - when it comes to serious matters like controlling elements and creating storms - demands total control, and it's not easy." He thought of Yennefer and their argument. How he punished her. He wasn't sure it qualified as losing control, for he did it deliberately, but it was like a stain on his conscience that bothered him like an itching rash whenever he remembered.

Ciri managed a slight smile. "That makes me feel a little better."

"Everybody makes mistakes," Kain said. "Especially when you haven't had the luxury of training to deal with your power for years. A month of meditations and crushing rocks cannot substitute for years of learning to control it. Don't be hard on yourself - you didn't cripple her. You stopped in time."

"Only because she made me," Ciri said. "If she hadn't, I don't know what would have happened. I didn't even know I was doing it."

"Why were you doing it?" he asked. "What did she do to make you do it?"

"She conjured Eredin. Not the real Eredin, obviously, but an illusion. I think she believed I would like to... take my frustrations out on him."

Kain scowled, "Makes sense. It's a rough method. But given how they train the sorcerers at their schools, she tried something that was used on her, most likely. I don't think their teachers believe in any gentle approaches when they train."

"No. Yennefer excluded, I am starting to dislike all sorceresses and their approaches," Ciri murmured. "I just wasn't prepared for it."

He peered at her shrewdly, "What happened?"

They had strolled through the village and turned to walk along the shore. Sun glistened on the water surface, sending blinding flashes into their eyes, making them squint.

"Philippa and Margarita have decided that for the Lodge to help us further with anything, we will have to renegotiate their price. Apparently, saving their lives and buying their freedom was not enough."

"I didn't get the impression they weren't going to aid us any further." He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the river pensively. "It's truly strange they would imply it. Did they tell you that? Personally?"

"They told Yennefer when she tried to make them come here and help rebuild the city. And what they want is you. And me. And any potential Elder Blood offspring." There was a clear edge to Ciri's voice now. "Apparently, Triss helped put the idea into Philippa's head. I feel... betrayed."

He thought about it, watching the blinding sunlight play and gleam over the water surface. He shook his head slowly. "They would love that," he murmured. "No denying it. However, each of them knows neither of us can be forced by mere means they have in their possession. If they had a plan on how to accomplish it, they would have acted differently. Demanding such things so openly and for helping with the repairs – I don't believe they truly meant it." He turned to her, a hint of an apology in his expression. "It must be Yennefer. They said it all out of spite because of Yennefer."

"I don't care whether Philippa meant it or not. I care that Triss would suggest it. That she would use the things I have told her. With all her talk of how much she loves me, how she only wants what is best for me, and yet she goes behind my back and do something like this? It hurts."

"I don't think it's likely that Philippa would tell so if it were the case. It seems they were merely riling Yennefer up. Besides, I told you before that the Lodge is never going to be your true friends. Just like Nilfgaard, or Aen Elle, the Lodge wants what it wants. They don't feel for you – they feel for what you can bring them. Like a goose with golden eggs – potential eggs."

"But I thought Triss was different. She was the first one of them I met, you know? She helped take care of me when I lived at Kaer Morhen. She calls us family. I consider her family! But now..." Ciri was momentarily lost for words.

"She feels for you, Ciri," Kain said in a quiet voice. "One cannot fake their emotions for those who can sense them. She's just torn between the Lodge and Philippa's authority and feelings for you and Geralt. She didn't ever betray you any more than Avallac'h. They both are bound by certain things you don't share."

"Why are you trying to justify her actions?" Ciri asked, frowning. "Don't you understand I cannot trust her now?"

"You can't trust anyone besides Geralt and Yennefer, Dandelion and Zoltan," Kain said. "That barely changes. I'm not trying to justify anything - I was merely reminding you of their own perspective on things – it's a two-sided coin. Triss is a buffer between you and the Lodge because she cares about you and Geralt. But she doesn't want to confront the Lodge so openly."

"She cares about Geralt, alright." Ciri was no longer certain she was part of the equation. "What are your plans for today?" Now she'd had some time to vent and air her frustrations, it was easier to move on to a different subject.

"My plans depend on Geralt," Kain shrugged. "We have to make sure there is no ambush for later. I doubt, however, that we should linger here all the time. Novigrad is not yet free of danger."

Ciri nodded. "No signs of any Riders being left behind?"

"No. Doesn't mean they plan nothing else."

"I don't think they will do anything without their leader. But there's no sure way of knowing if they've managed to fetch him yet." Not other than Ciri going there herself to check. But she didn't know if she would be able to find her way back to him. Especially not without trying to create a link with Eredin somehow. Which she was currently unwilling to risk.

"He won't be lost for long," Kain said. "So we have to assume they've found him already. Even if not - they could've had a strategy to begin with, and then his soldiers and generals will follow it while the mage is looking for him."

"Better safe than sorry, I suppose."

They walked in silence a while until Ciri's curiosity reared its head again. "I got the feeling Geralt did not want me to come to Oxenfurt yesterday. Any truth to that, you think?"

"No. There's a lot on his mind, is all. He always wants to have you around."

"I hope so. Because that is how I feel about him."

"I'm sure he would feel happy if he had you alone in the whole world. You seem to be his whole world."

She smiled a little. "That's sweet but there are other people he loves just as much. As he should. His family. That includes you now."

"We're still... getting used to it. It's strange for both of us."

"I can imagine. At least you are getting along, right? Geralt no longer wants to throttle you because I like you?" She asked, smirking subtly.

Kain smirked, amused. "No. There are no issues between us."

"Good. I do wonder what would have happened had I not tried to stop him from going after you that first day in Skellige."

"Who knows," he peered at her wistfully. "He doesn't fight without reason. But his wish to go after Griffin could change the whole scenario."

"Glad we managed to prevent that. He was wounded in the battle? Griffin? There was blood in his feathers when he came to find me."

"I healed him, then sent him back to his cave. But seems like he chose to get you instead."

"Those who love you will never hide while you are in danger."

"I don't want to get him killed. He can't fight for my or anyone else's causes. He's a free wild beast."

Ciri eyed him, feeling sympathetic. "It's in his nature to fight for his family. That is you now. He lost his mate and any potential eggs. You're what he has."

"It wouldn't console me had anything happened to him."

"Nothing would," she sighed.

* * *

Yennefer didn't look back as she stormed out of the clinic. She was tired. Very tired. She didn't use her magic, either, hopeful that the walk would soothe her raging nerves and give her a little time to clear her thoughts.

When she found the two, they were on the shoreline, walking side by side, clearly talking. Ciri was calm again, too. Yennefer could appreciate that Kain was able to do that for her.

She waited a beat, summoning up some willpower, and then crossed toward them slowly. The blood was gone, her hair had been straightened a bit, and, apart from the obvious exhaustion, she looked as she always did – put together.

Ciri didn't see Yennefer approach until the sorceress was almost close enough to touch. The blood was cleaned, but it didn't help erase the memories of what had happened.

"Yennefer..." Ciri took a few steps closer but stopped before she reached her. She wasn't sure Yennefer would want to be touched. "Are you alright?"

Yennefer had read her hesitant intention and purposely closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Ciri, stroking her hair lovingly.

She had been worried that she might have lost her girl or even pushed her to such a point that Ciri'd have filtered her into the troublesome category where she couldn't stand to look at Yen.

"Are you?"

"Better now," Ciri admitted, burying her face in the crook of Yennefer's neck, her arms squeezing the sorceress' back to keep her close. "I am so sorry, Yennefer. I never want to hurt you."

Yennefer squeezed her back tightly.

"Nor I you. I'm sorry that I scared you. Set you off."

"I just... I was not prepared," Ciri whispered.

Kain backed away to let them talk in private and headed back for the gate in a languid stroll.

"Neither was I," Yennefer murmured. She relinquished her hold so she could look into Ciri's eyes. "You know I would never intentionally hurt you?"

Ciri frowned. "Of course I do." The very thought Yennefer ever could do something to purposely hurt her was ridiculous.

The enchantress hugged her once more and then slowly let her go, glancing around when she realized that Kain had left to give them space.

"I've been talking to Geralt. I thought, that maybe the two of you should go somewhere – relax. You have a lot on your mind and being on guard isn't helping."

Ciri tilted her head to the side, uncertain of what Yennefer was suggesting.

"Go where? Somewhere secluded?" Was this a new take on Ciri's earlier island-musings, only with a babysitter instead of her being alone?

Yennefer shrugged. "Somewhere you can feel more at peace. Geralt seems to think that it'll never happen with the Wild Hunt out there and I agree. But who knows when we'll dispatch them? You deserve more than to live your life making up for something you can't control or have no say over. You should get to live as well. At least for a little."

"I can't leave." Ciri shook her head slowly, though it was truly not even a consideration. "We all need to stick together. By ourselves, we are so much easier to pick off."

"Yes, you can," Yennefer added vehemently. "I'm also not suggesting you do it alone. Never. All I'm saying is, that maybe you'd enjoy some downtime. No plotting, planning, pretending."

"No. That can't happen. The moment I let my guard down, they attack."

Ciri softened a little because despite her own insecurities she believed she understood what Yennefer was trying to do.

"I appreciate the thought, Yennefer. But I am not leaving."

"Then I'm not leaving, either."

Yennefer had almost been pushed to do just that, thinking she'd made one of her worst mistakes and that she couldn't possibly be any good when she couldn't read signs. The thought had been that without Geralt's love she'd lost some sharpness of understanding, her intuition. It was an irrational thought and an insecurity she hardly indulged in, anymore.

Ciri blinked up at the sorceress. "Why would you leave?" _Because of me?_

"I—I figure it was the right thing to do after I… did what I did."

Yennefer didn't like how insecure she sounded airing that out loud, but she'd always relished in the newfound honesty of their relationship.

"I didn't want to be the cause for anything else. You looked so... heartbroken."

"You don't get to leave me," Ciri said, reaching for Yennefer's hand and squeezing it. "You're my family. We stick together."

Yennefer squeezed Ciri's hand back. "We are. So know, the same relates to you."

She smiled softly and then slowly headed for the gates, guiding Ciri along with her.

"I'm exhausted. I need sleep."

"Did you not sleep last night?"

"I did," Yennefer offered. "I've just—the magic use has taken a bit out of me."

There had been the repairs to the structures, the illusions, and then her attack that seemed to have drained it right out of her for a moment. Yennefer had been wholly unprepared.

"Of course. I'll show you where I slept last night. The bed is comfortable enough." Ciri just hoped they wouldn't run into Triss.

"What about you? Your dreams?"

"I haven't slept much. No more potions. Though, luckily, I think Eredin has been too preoccupied to enter my dreams."

Yennefer squeezed her hand once more in a thank-you, nodding in acknowledgement of the fact that Eredin hadn't shown up yet.

"Would you like me to make you some more sleep draught, just in case?"

"Yes, please. But only after you get some sleep yourself." Ciri smiled up at her, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "I don't want sub-par results."

Yennefer gave a soft laugh, bestowing her a teasing look that said 'as if there would ever be such a possibility'.

They went back to the clinic and Ciri showed her to the empty room where she could get some rest. She hugged the sorceress, then went back outside, reluctant to stay where she assumed Triss was still lingering. She was not ready to face her yet.

Yennefer waited until the door closed behind Ciri, and then went to make herself at home on the bed, scarcely bothering to strip off her clothes, falling asleep within a minute of her head hitting the pillow.

Ciri hadn't seen where Kain had disappeared to, but she assumed he was still close by somewhere. Unless Geralt had found him and they had gone off on another patrol.

She slowly wound her way through the market square, pleased to see people were rebuilding and preparing their stalls for sale with gentle enthusiasm.

They didn't pay her much attention, and that was lovely as well, allowing her to observe from afar and simply be.

* * *

"I've heard Yennefer has arrived." Fringilla approached from behind while the Witcher was deep in thought watching over the port. "I would expect to find her with you. Strange to see you all alone."

Geralt shrugged with a wistful smile. "I don't always seek company. I needed to think, and it's best done in solitude."

"I see." A subtle smile touched her lips; she stood next to him observing the river. "I know Philippa refused to come here. I shall talk to her. She'll change her mind."

"What makes you so certain?"

"I know her. And I know how things are between her and Yennefer. You've chosen a very complicated sorceress, Geralt."

He smirked. "So I keep hearing."

She studied him with a hint of wonder. "Strange way to put it," she noted. "As if it was decided without your participation."

Geralt sighed, reflecting a moment. "There are some issues with my memory. It feels like that at times - like I get to know my own life as if it's someone else's."

She was astonished. "What happened to cause it?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "Some magic, as usual. Magic always complicates things."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

He looked at her with both tenderness and amusement. "You would want to help me after I left you?"

She averted her eyes to the ship, a sad sneer on her mouth. "You chose your duty. We all know what it is like. I don't blame you, Geralt. I still remember every moment, every gaze we shared, every second we breathed together, and I know how you felt. It's become enough for me - to know it. I still care."

He smiled, touching her chin gently, and leaned in to plant a kiss on the corner of her mouth. "Me too."

She smiled and this time her eyes lit up a bit. She nodded and then jerked her chin to indicate something behind him. "Ciri."

Ciri'd seen them from afar and was hesitantly approaching. She didn't like the sorceress so close to Geralt, even if Fringilla had been a much bigger help than Philippa and Margarita. It was just the intimacy of how they were standing...

It felt wrong. It brought back the visions she'd had years ago at the Tower of the Swallow. She had not enjoyed that development.

Their conversation could not be overheard, and since Ciri had no urgent matters to discuss of her own, she didn't want to interrupt. Instead, she stood off to the side, arms folded across her chest and gaze on the river, allowing the two to finish whatever they were doing.

Fringilla strolled away, nodding to Ciri as she went. Geralt came up to the girl with a smile and an expression of inquiry.

"Something happened? You look preoccupied."

She followed Fringilla with her gaze as the sorceress walked away before meeting Geralt's eyes.

"No," Ciri said, smiling slightly. "I didn't know you two were still so... close."

"We're good with each other," he ventured. "She said Philippa refused us help because of Yennefer. Fringilla will talk to her. I believe she might be right. Philippa doesn't seem to be fond of Yen. Not in the slightest. I should've talked to her myself without letting Yennefer do it for me. It was a mistake."

Ciri nodded slowly. "They'll want new terms. More rewards. They won't have them."

"Let's not think before the time comes for them to demand things. We shall worry when they tell us whether they want new things. Before that, I hope Fringilla will set it right."

"That's what they told Yennefer," Ciri pointed out. "Renegotiations. If that is how Philippa wants to play it, I'll take back the pardon I purchased for her."

"We don't need them to be one more enemy, Ciri. Leave the pardons and hold your anger until you know for sure what happens."

"Everyone is our enemy, Geralt," Ciri said gravely. "The Lodge included. We are all just playing a game of pretend."

He looked at her with calm resolve. "When you feel like everyone is your enemy, you become a cornered animal and it that ruins you in the end. Don't think so. Think that you have lots of allies who will fight your enemies with you. It's a lot more than some have."

"I just don't know who to trust anymore," she admitted, eyes on her feet. "There's you, Yennefer, and Kain. Dandelion and Zoltan. The rest..." A shrug.

He smiled with tender adoration. "Trust yourself, Ciri. Trust your mind, your heart, your intuition. You have many gifts and you should trust them."

She fixed him with a dubious look, sheepish. "After what happened with Yennefer?"

He squinted. "Why do you think it happened?"

"I was upset. And not prepared for an Eredin apparition in the middle of the street."

"You know why it happened. That means you know how to address your issue and what to work on to prevent it in the future."

"Not so sure about that, but I will try." She turned to eye him. "What are your plans for today?"

"I have made no special personal plans," the Witcher admitted. "But Kain is telling me the surviving Crone can be a problem for us. She might be helping the Hunt already. It means we have to stop her. Probably better sooner than later."

"I agree. And I will, of course, help. But I think, if you can find the time today, you should spend some of it with Dandelion. He misses you, Geralt. He misses his best friend."

Geralt laughed. "I'm sure he can fill his free time with all the Academy students who worship him and his talents while we take care of our problems."

Ciri eyed him seriously. "No, Geralt. He feels neglected. Replaced. He told me last night."

"Was he drunk when he said that?"

"Not particularly."

"Which means he drank some. I know him. He falls for his momentary moods and stews in them, writes his best works, and then moves on to the next. He'll be fine. But I can't nurse his poetic drama mood while my brother and daughter are in danger because that Crone is sitting in her swamps with Kain's blood and does gods know what.

"If Kain's right, she's been spying on us all this time, and maybe this is how Eredin fooled us."

She shrugged. "At least I told you. Done my part." Ciri brushed her hair from her face. "Kain still convinced she is in Velen?"

"It was their place of power," Geralt mused. "Without her sisters, she lost some of the magic they had together, and it must be hard for her to get out of there. The tree gave them strength. It's still standing, people are still remembering them, maybe some still worship them. She has no power in any other place than there."

"Makes sense," Ciri agreed. "How many of us should go?"

"I haven't decided yet. I want to find a way to minimize the risk - and the risk is significant when it comes to Eredin and his allies."

"She probably expects us to come as well. So the element of surprise won't exactly be on our side."

Geralt smiled. "That means we have to think of one."

* * *

In the early hours of the following morning, Kain, Geralt, and Ciri were entering the property lines of Velen on horseback. It was cold and the ground was covered in red and yellow leaves, creating a beautiful display of color against the dawning sky and the remaining green of the pine trees.

They'd slowed to a walk and Ciri released Kelpie's reins to rub her hands together. Despite her gloves, her fingers had become stiff with cold.

"Do you think the Crone still resides beneath the mountain?" she asked the two witchers.

"I would bet on the hut in the middle of the swamps I kept seeing in my dreams," Kain said.

The early morning revealed the land of mists and nightmares that refused to fade. The mist coiled around the rare trees and bushes, thickened over the pools concealing them from every wanderer silly enough to pick the route through the Crookback bog. The mist was disorienting and played games with sounds that carried strangely across the swamp. Drowners, water hags, occasional ghouls - you could expect anything.

"I guess it's safer to leave the horses here," Geralt mused. "It's hard to see in this fog, and even harder to respond to threats in time. We don't need to sacrifice our mounts."

Ciri pulled Kelpie to a stop and slipped off her back, loosening her bridle to allow the mare free reign while on her own. She took a look at their immediate surroundings while Kain and Geralt tended to their own mounts. She'd been here once before, but nothing looked familiar whatsoever. The fog was new, probably a direct result of the remaining Crone's magic to confuse them. It was working.

"Do you know the way?" she asked Geralt, remembering he had been in the area as well not too long ago.

The Witcher took a look around. "The swamps look the same everywhere until you get to that hut," he said. "We'll have to just go and search for it. She might put some glamor on it to stop us."

It was eerily quiet, and the fog coiled around the grassy mounds and over the pools. Some rare strange sounds and whispers worried the veil of silence.

"It's the Weavess," Kain said. "She can trick and lead into a trap. This whole place is one big trap. I can't draw from this place - it's soaked with her magic. So it's just our swords. Use your Signs, Geralt. Try to not get separated."

Geralt nodded, pulling the sword out slowly, looking around.

Kain looked at Ciri: "Try not to teleport with your power - you could be mislead. She's at her strongest here, and she's angry."

Fighting without her powers always made Ciri feel strangely trapped, but she could recognize the truth of Kain's words. They had to be careful. This was The Crone's turf and she held all of the advantages.

"Do you think her worshippers still remain?" Ciri asked as they advanced through the fog, swords raised and ready to inflict lethal damage to whatever malicious creature they'd come across. "Are they still feeding her power?"

"I wouldn't put it past her," Geralt mused. "She needs every little piece of power she can get."

"Wrong place to discuss this," Kain whispered, and the Witcher nodded. The sister specializing on the ears was dead, but who knew how many talents the remaining one had? Neither witcher wanted to test their fate.

The fog was getting thicker around their feet and creeping higher. Soon enough they didn't see where they were stepping, which significantly slowed down their progress. The scenery looked the same whichever side they glanced, and there was no way of telling which direction the hut was.

The first wave of drowners hit them suddenly and from every which way. They ran from every side, climbed from behind every mound and pool, hissing and baring teeth. Hags were among them, screeching and cackling, bony arms flailing, knotty fingers clawing at the intruders.

The mighty attack washed through the trio like a cold wave of a stormy sea, pushing them in different directions. Before they knew it, they lost sight of each other in the thickened fog.

Panting, Geralt yanked the sword from the hag's thick skull and looked around. An icy finger of alarm and worry tickled his spine: everywhere he looked he saw the milky veil of fog and nothing else. It hung like a curtain, isolating him from the rest of the world. He heard nothing else, only the slurping sound of his boots as he navigated the swamp.

"Ciri!" he called and listened a moment. Nothing. "Kain! CIRI!"

No response. There was a distant hissing sound of a drowner, perhaps, but nothing of what he wished to hear.

"Dammit," he muttered and began to walk gingerly. He dreaded to think that the Crone could have gotten what she wanted while the Witcher was incapable of stopping her. He had never felt as helpless - not since the horrid night he'd lost Ciri for all those years he couldn't restore for both of them.

"CIRI!" he tried again. "Kain!"

Kain stood over a hag's corpse surrounded by dead drowners, with his eyes closed. He wasn't listening as much as focusing on pushing his racing thoughts into the background. He needed his instincts now, not the panicking mind. When his mind stilled enough, he looked around. He was certain they couldn't be too far from each other, but this was magic at work. _Her_ territory. He couldn't see their colors, nor hear them, but he knew they were close. They had to be. The only option was to keep walking.

As he did, a few more drowners found their way to him. He killed them easily, gracefully moving between the pools and puddles. Killing was always easier with a quiet mind.

And then there was something, a subtle pull, some imperceptible touch of familiar energy he tried to follow. He didn't find his companions, but it felt like he had found something else.

There was nothing to be seen on the ground through the fog that lay like cotton around his ankles. He crouched and held his palm over it - after a moment, the fog parted under his hand revealing some drying grass on the verge of a shallow pool. A silver gleam caught his eye, and he shifted closer to the water. Something in the silt... He reached, his fingers felt something firm and edgy.

Before he pulled it out, something hit him from behind and pushed headfirst into the water.

He didn't dig into the silt with his face - there was no bottom to hit. He twirled in the water, fully submerged, while a drowner's claws slashed at his sides and arms. Kain twisted, diving under and around the creature, and shoved his hand into the side of its head. An impulse of power went through the drowner's brain, shooting a cloud of blood from another side of its head where an ear could be, and its body went limp. Kain began to swim up and realized he couldn't. It was as if something wrapped around his ankles and pulled him down, though there was nothing. A spasmodic exhale left his mouth in a flurry of bubbles while he fought to reach the surface. There was no way to tell where that surface was, anymore, he noticed, as everything around was murky and dark. His chest was tightening painfully, screaming for air, his mind dimming, while the invisible power kept pulling him deeper.

* * *

Ciri couldn't say for sure the exact moment they had all split up. One minute Kain and Geralt had been by her side, and the next she was surrounded by drowners, pushed back into the suffocating fog until she could barely see her own hands in front of her.

That made the fighting more complicated and Ciri was suddenly grateful for all the exercises back at Kaer Morhen where the witchers had insisted she be blindfolded while facing her opponents.

This is just like that, she told herself, relying on her other senses to guide her sword, slashing and hacking until the drowners lay still at her feet. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but judging by the fact her heart was racing and breathing labored, the fight had to have lasted a long good while.

Her armor had protected her from the drowners' claws, for the most part, her arms and torso were safe. But one of them had managed to get a scratch in across Ciri's cheek, the same side that carried her infamous scar. As she tried to navigate her way through the swamp, blood trickled into her mouth.

_Blood. My blood. Elder Blood._

Ciri paused her progression through the fog and closed her eyes, sensing for Geralt like she would Kain when she needed to find him. The Crone's magic and influence all around sent a shiver of goosebumps down Ciri's neck and spine, but she tried to ignore it.

"My power is greater than yours," she heard herself whisper as if the Crone was standing right in front of her. "_Our_ power. And you cannot keep us apart."

Something seemed to snap into place inside her. A cord held taut. And Ciri knew what was on the other end. Geralt. She just needed to follow it. She'd find him and together they would find Kain.

She stepped carefully through the swamp, stopping twice when she encountered new attacks from the drowners that resided here, and focused once more to find that connection with her father. She could feel herself getting closer.

When she finally reached her destination, Geralt had his back turned to her. Ciri cautiously reached out and took his hand, pulling him to her. "Are you alright?"

Geralt wasn't startled by her approach - he felt it a few seconds before she reached him. When he turned to her, his face was grayishly pale with dark veins beneath the skin, his eyes two black pits. His smile, however, reflected his relief.

"Thank Gods, Ciri. You all right? Seen Kain?"

Geralt's current appearance would put the fright into the bravest of men, but Ciri wasn't scared. She knew it was the effects of his potions.

"I haven't found him yet," she admitted in a hushed voice, keeping hold of Geralt's hand as they started off. "I'll try and sense him, like I did you. Don't let go of my hand." It was too easy to get separated out here.

She closed her eyes again, trusting Geralt to have her back should another group of drowners show up while she focused and zeroed in on Kain's essence. Before long, she was pulling Geralt behind her, moving in the general direction where she sensed Kain was or had been.

Geralt had his reservations concerning Ciri's using of her powers, but there was little to nothing else they could do. Despite the potions, Geralt couldn't sense much through the magical fog. The Crone's charms were stronger than he imagined. Now he knew how stupid and ambitious this affair was. The Crone had enough time to prepare while they had been too busy with the Hunt.

"So convenient," he muttered when Ciri slowed down. The cold of dread stroked through his back. "It's a trap. A calculated trap. For him. And for you. We shouldn't have come here."

"I know," Ciri whispered, feeling her way through the fog. She could sense Kain's essence close by but struggled to pinpoint it. "But it's too late to turn around now. We're not leaving without him."

"He'd have found us himself by now if he could," Geralt reasoned, scanning the fog around them. His Wolf pendant was sending subtle thrills through his body. "It means he can't."

"His magic might not be working right."

Ciri stopped and adjusted her hold on Geralt's hand, closing her eyes again to focus on Kain and the mysterious bond between them.

"I feel him here. But not here."

She frowned, trying to make sense of it all.

"Maybe he was here very recently..." But then how could he have made it so far away that she now didn't feel like she had any new directions to follow?

Scowling, Geralt listened to the magic singing in his pendant and wondered what it could mean. Either the fog or...

He looked at the milky smoke coiling around their ankles. He swayed his foot, thinning it - he could see the grass and water beneath it briefly, but then the fog won back its territory.

While Ciri tried her utmost to concentrate, her hold on Geralt's arm unrelenting, Geralt tried to look for any traces on the ground - as hard as it was. He made a few steps around, swaying his feet while scoping the ground. There were no physical traces he could make out, but in his altered vision there seemed to be another picture. Nothing specific, nor clear, however, aside from the certainty that Kain'd been here.

"Something attacked him," Geralt murmured, crouching, and swatted at the fog with his hand. "A drowner." The said drowner lay dead a couple of feet away. Next to it, lay a sword.

Ciri followed Geralt, keeping as close as possible without actually clinging to him. She eyed the dead drowner with a frown, then the sword. Kain's sword.

_Fuck_.

"He's not dead," she whispered, peering around as if expecting a trail of dead monsters. "I can still feel him. I just can't... find him."

"I know he's not." Geralt picked up the sword. "Hardly she wants him dead. Doesn't mean we have much time, either."

He pushed the dead drowner with his boot and crouched again: there was something under the corpse. He passed the sword to Ciri and grabbed at what he saw gleaming in the silt underwater. He came back with two pendants dangling from his fingers. A Wolf and a Cat. He showcased them to Ciri.

Ciri stepped in, lightly touching both pendants.

"Kain and Vesemir's," she muttered. "The Crone was here. Must have lured him in." Unless she'd just pounced. "We need to find her home. If she took Kain, you can be sure she'll want to use him for her own purposes before giving him to Eredin."

Like resurrecting her sisters. Or eating Kain's feet.

Ciri took both necklaces and slipped them on over her head, allowing them to hang from her neck as she found Geralt's hand with her own again. She closed her eyes. "Maybe, if I focus really hard, I can still feel him."

She tried. And tried. And when she finally felt an inkling of something, she began to walk.


	53. Chapter 53

They didn't get far before another wave of drowners and hags attacked them. Geralt pulled Ciri to him so they fought back to back, either tried to not get pulled away while slashing at the enemy that kept coming like neverending rain.

"Is she making them?" Ciri called over her shoulder, wiping drowner blood from her face. It seemed like they were spawning on the spot. "They're just keeping us here. Slowing us down. Should we make a run for it?"

"Just fight," he yelled, stabbing and slashing. "She makes them attack, but she's not creating them. They can't keep coming forever."

It took them a long time to fight through the army of swamp forces, but when there were only a few left, they heard a long, low howling sound roll through the bog as if something humongous rumbling and stirring beneath the ground.

The drowners screeched and fell back, visibly frightened, and then disappeared in the fog, leaving Geralt and Ciri perplexed. The remaining hag wasn't scared, though she wasn't too hasty to attack. As if waiting for something.

Reinforcement, Geralt thought grimly.

"It's not the end of it," he told Ciri who was panting next to him. "We're about to hold a bigger battle."

Ciri reached for Geralt's arm when the ground began to quake beneath them, staring wide-eyed and confused. "What creature can do that?" she asked the Witcher, assuming if anyone would know, it was him.

Another low, grumbling sound rolled across the bog. Closer this time.

"I'm sure you know," he said. "It's a fiend. She put a fiend between us and Cath."

A fiend? Giant creatures looking like hybrids made up of diseased stags and ogres. One blow from them was enough to crush skulls.

Ciri adjusted her hold on her sword, pressing her back to Geralt's. Because at that very moment it was impossible to tell where the beast would come from.

When it did, the fiend ran straight at them, knocking over a tree in its wake. It looked like a ghostly specter emerging from the thick fog, but Ciri never doubted for a second that the creature was very real and corporeal.

"Don't suppose you brought any of those bombs fiends hate so much?" Ciri groaned after having thrown herself out of the beast's way.

They dashed apart as the monster barreled between them, horns poised to spike. The fog thinned a bit, worried by the huge bulk of the fiend, but it scarcely made the fight easier. The hag that had been hesitating on the sidelines screamed and hurried toward Ciri to attack, and Geralt couldn't reach her in time - the fiend jumped, cutting the Witcher off. It lowered its horned head, and its third eye widened.

Geralt's vision blurred, darkened, and something pressed into his temples as if trying to squash his head. He staggered back, shaking his head, let out a grunt. Something hummed inside his skull in torturing, vibrating waves.

Ciri jumped back as the hag advanced, avoiding her razor-sharp claws as they swung for her. Ciri twirled her sword once and, when the hag briefly bent at the waist to scoop mud from the ground, attacked. Only, she wasn't quick enough. The hag righted herself almost immediately, dashed out of the way of Ciri's sword, and flung a ball of mud at the girl.

It hit Ciri directly in the face, covering her eyes and blinding her. Ciri winced and hurriedly tried to wipe it away. Again, not quickly enough.

A heavy weight tackled Ciri's middle and threw her to the swampy floor, her sword knocked from her hand and out of reach as the hag writhed on top of her. Fighting close to blind, Ciri's hands took hold of the hag's slimy head, trying to keep the beast's teeth from tearing into her jugular. It was like holding onto a rotting corpse, skin slick and feeling as though it threatened to slip off the bone.

The hag's claws raked across Ciri's armor fervently but had yet to break through. Only a matter of time, though, Ciri reckoned. The hag's weight was suffocating and Ciri could barely move beneath her, which left no other choice than to rely on her magic.

She focused all her power on the head between her hands, and with a soft groan of exertion she released it. The hag's head exploded in a shower of rotten flesh and brains, making Ciri gag as she made to push the rest of the body off of her, and to finally wipe her eyes clean.

Geralt couldn't take it any longer, nor afford to try, since the fiend was digging the dirt with its paws, poising its horns to run them into the Witcher while he was struck with its mind distortion wave.

Geralt could barely see through the pulsing migraine, but he noted the impending attack.

Ciri was right, he needed a bomb to disrupt the destructive telepathy, but he had none. He wasn't planning to fight any fiends and now he felt mighty ashamed of his lack of thought on that regard.

Geralt waited for the fiend to launch at him, then rolled away from under its paws as it dug into the dirt right where Geralt's feet had been. The pain eased a tiny bit while the beast turned around and set his three red eyes on the target once again, and when it did, Geralt hurled his sword at its head. The blade slipped into the eye sitting in the middle of its forehead and got stuck in the skull.

The monster wailed and reared up, its paws clawing at the sword.

"Ciri!" Geralt yelled. "Throw me his sword!"

She did, and they both dashed to the beast, Geralt aiming at the chest, and Ciri set her eyes on its bristled scruff.

Ciri jumped, thrusting her sword into the beast's furry neck. It was harder to pierce than she had expected, the hide too tough. But her sword did great damage nonetheless, and when Geralt stabbed at the fiend's heart, it seemed to have done the trick.

The fiend roared in pain and fury as its legs quaked and gave out from under the heavy body. Ciri, who was at the creature's side quickly rolled out of the way to avoid getting crushed, pulling herself back up just behind where Geralt was standing.

The fiend lay on the swamp floor, unable to launch another attack but still drawing breath. He groaned and gasped for air, reminding Ciri of a horse in the throes of death.

"We need to put it out of its misery," she said, panting.

Geralt said nothing and drove Kain's sword deeper into the beast. The fiend groaned with its deep rumbling sound, and its remaining two eyes rolled. It let out its last breath and stilled.

Geralt yanked the sword out, then regained his own from the third eye on the monster's forehead, and turned to Ciri with a searching gaze.

"Are you all right?"

"Could use a bath," Ciri answered, eyeing the fiend one last time before turning her gaze to Geralt. "But otherwise relatively unharmed."

"We should get moving before more come to stop us," he said, gesturing behind Ciri as he began to walk, sheathing his sword. "If you feel which way to go - lead."

She had to close her eyes again and take a moment to focus before she found her connection with Kain.

When she did, Ciri reached for Geralt's hand and led the way through the fog.

For a long while that was all they saw – thick, white mist that walled them in from every side. There were no sounds of animals or birds. Just an eerie silence and the occasional cry of a drowner.

At least thirty minutes passed before Geralt and Ciri found their way into a clearing. A clearing with several small wooden houses, as well as a larger construction that looked almost like a bell tower.

"I've been here before," Ciri whispered, not daring to let go of Geralt even if the fog was dispersing. "When I first came to Velen. This is where I ended up."

The fog was coiling around the old woman's orphanage as if there was a huge forest fire all over the swamps. The shrine of the Crones – a wooden chapel with a pointy roof – was almost fully concealed by the milky veil as if it were a mirage in the corner of their imagination. It had no windows, and Geralt randomly wondered whether the numerous candles were still burning inside, illuminating the golden tapestry above the altar.

"I've been here before, as well," the Witcher said. "But you already know that." He looked at her – she was a bleak vision in the mist. "They made me serve them for information about you. Not that I'm proud of it, but killing that enchanted thing for them wasn't too bad of a deed. It meant no good for anyone living in these lands. The Crones, however, were wary of it, even though it was just a pulsing root in the core of a cave."

He made a few steps forward, glancing between the hut and the shrine, pondering.

"Think we can skip the barn and just visit the Lady?" he looked to Ciri, perking an eyebrow.

"Only one way to find out," Ciri replied, her sword drawn as she stepped towards the shrine. She was all kinds of nervous, which was unusual when it came to hunting monsters. And she knew it had nothing to do with the monster itself and everything to do with Kain. Was he all right? Would the Crone already have been able to use him for her nefarious purposes?

She tried to push those thoughts to the back of her mind as she nudged the door open. Nothing flew out at them immediately, so after a few seconds Ciri stepped inside. From the first glance, the space was empty. Though dozens of lit candles shone in the darkness, most of them illuminating a large tapestry depicting three beautiful women.

The whole place vibrated with magic, making the hairs on Ciri's arms stand on end.

The candles were thick and rather tall as if lit recently; their flames shook subtly when Ciri and Geralt approached. The tapestry was swimming in their golden glow as if it came from within the fabric. The shivering light made the Crones seem alive and breathing.

Geralt found the image captivating, almost unnaturally so. It lured and hypnotized.

The Witcher tore his eyes away from it with effort and strolled around the room, taking a better look with sharp eye, peeking into every nook and cranny while his medallion vibrated against his chest bone.

"We need to check the basement," he said eventually, turning to Ciri. "I sense her magic and her presence, but something's not right. She's good at hiding."

"Well, we already knew this was a trap," Ciri said. She was also in no doubt the Crone already knew they were there. She was probably just waiting.

Ciri stepped closer to the tapestry and knelt down to open the hatch in the floor. From her vantage point there was only darkness down there. She squinted, then looked to Geralt. "Care to make use of your night-vision, Witcher?"

Geralt slipped down into the dark without hesitation. It was pitch black for any human eyes, but for him - on the potion - it was all shades of grey. He moved through the vast basement with a dirt floor, trying to sense anything. It felt the same as upstairs - the presence was there, but no physical evidence thereof. He approached the furthest wall and a makeshift altar on the ground before it. There were candles; Geralt used Igni to light them, then turned to look back at where Ciri's legs dangled in the hatch.

"Get down here. It's empty just the same. Look if you can feel anything."

Ciri waited for Geralt's signal, then dropped down into the semi-darkness, landing nimbly on her feet.

She took a quick look at her new surroundings; nothing was standing out, nor caught her immediate attention.

"It's like she is everywhere and nowhere," Ciri murmured after a moment's contemplation. "I can't pin her down. And Kain..." She could feel something tug at her heart, but it was as though their connection had been clouded. Temporarily lost in the fog. "I don't know where he is."

The Witcher nodded, brooding, and looked at the altar at their feet. A skull sat in the head of it surrounded by flickering candles, and in the changing light it seemed that the skull was laughing at them soundlessly.

"She pulled him into her dimension," Geralt said quietly. "Into whatever is behind the tapestry. We can't get there on our own."

* * *

Some strange smells and sounds were seeping through the thick blanket of dizziness. His head was heavy and swimming. Red and orange glow shimmered against his eyelids trying to get through.

Kain tried to open his eyes, but it wasn't an easy task. The muttering gradually gained sense when he observed a blurry figure bustling around a glaring bonfire. He tried to move and found he was unable to: he was bound to a construction made of three stakes - one for his torso, two for his arms. His head felt stuffed with the fog he recalled from the swamps. It was hard to think and focus, as if the fumes around him were toxic. He suspected it wasn't far from truth. There was muddy water up to his ankles, and around him - stony walls of what looked like a cave. Drying lianas and brownish moss and fungi clung to them.

"You're back, my boy," the Weavess cooed, approaching. The water under their feet almost didn't worry beneath her, nor restricted her fussy moves. Her face was in front of his in a matter of seconds, and he winced looking at her horrid eye with flies crawling all over it and fluttering in and out like bees with their honeycomb. "Finally awake, my child." Her breath smelled of rotting meat and dead leaves. "Now's the time for you to pay your debt."

Her long crooked nail crept along his neck, the line turned crimson. She skimmed a finger over it and brought it into her mouth, smacking her lips.

"Elder Blood," she purred, caressing his cheek. "Your wonderful, delicious blood will bring them back to me. And then the elven filth can have whatever's left of you."

She cackled and went back to the fire where she whispered some spell Kain didn't understand, nor heard well. His mind was groggy and slow, painfully slow. The very air around him felt poisoned, soaked with her magic and energy, aiming to disable his. She had been preparing for a while, and now it was about to pay off with dividends. He shook his head, but it didn't help. Nothing would help – not while he's here and weakened. His medallion wasn't on him, he noted. That was just another slip of luck.

"Our pretty little princess will come after you," the Weavess said in a matter-of-fact way, nearing him slowly. Her smile resembled a frog's – from ear to ear. She was taking great pride in her operation. "She will come to save her prince, and then I shall take what's rightfully ours. Her lovely delicious feet! Her dainty little hands! She doesn't need those, and we do! We do! It shall make us stronger than ever before!" She threw her head back, laughing loudly, which sounded more like shrieks of a spooked bird. "No filth shall ever destroy us!"

Next moment, she was before him, imposing, enveloping him in her stench of decay. He felt a stinging pain in one arm, then another, as she dragged her grey nails sharp like daggers from inside of his elbow to his wrist cutting the skin. Blood pooled, welled up and began to pour down into his palms and off his fingers into the muddy waters around his feet. He tried to break free, but it was utterly fruitless.

"Good, good!" the witch cackled, her head bobbing. She sucked her bloodied nails clean and grinned at him. Her face got blurry. "Fight, stir, wiggle, precious child! The quicker your blood will trickle, trickle down, down, down…"

* * *

"Thank you," Shani said, her hair uncombed and skin blemished with blood and other bodily fluids.

They'd had to do a series of medical treatments. Some with magic, some with potion, and others with more menial means. That didn't even include those that hadn't survived and those that needed to be buried.

Usually, Yennefer wouldn't have bothered to stay, to play handmaiden to the troubled victims of the once prestige university town, but it was something to do – something to occupy her mind. She had a lot to think about, a lot to work through, and even more to consider.

"Don't thank me," Yennefer said, stepping away from the young woman she'd just removed the last remnants of her baby from. The woman had been one of the survivors. Unfortunately, her unborn child wasn't, and the strain and stress of the attack had caused her to lose a child she wasn't even aware she was carrying. "Make sure she drinks a lot of water, and keep a close eye on her the next few days. Should she continue to bleed," Yennefer extended a bottle of potion toward Shani to administer to the woman, "make sure she takes this three times a day."

Yennefer would have instructed the woman herself, but she hadn't any intention of hanging around to wait for her to wake up.

She'd had enough and needed a break.

She ambled into the confines of her new room, no better than the pile of beds she'd had before, but secure and hers alone. She helped herself to water from a barrel at the door, rinsing her hands and up her elbows. When they were clean, she entered her room, dried them upon a yellowing sheet and sat down on her mattress. She'd tipped back onto it to stretch out and get a bit of rest when she felt a vibration of magic.

A message.

She shot upright, slid off the mattress, closing her eyes to search for the invisible tether, a spray of gold shooting forth from her right hand only once she was sure of its location.

She stepped through the oval passage, scarcely even feeling the disorientation of motion, allowing her eyes to adjust to the weak light provided by the lit candles in the basement once she arrived. She'd come in prepared for a fight and to defend. Thankfully, Geralt and Ciri didn't appear to need any help on that front. None that she could see. She could feel a lot, though, the way the magic imbued the structure as if every wall oozed with it.

"Where are we?"

"At the Crones' shrine," said Geralt. "In the middle of the Crookback Bog."

"We lost Kain," Ciri added. "It's likely she has taken him. Somewhere we cannot follow on our own."

"We found his and Vesemir's medallions in one of the pools outside," Geralt added. "She must've used water to pull him into her dimension. How, though... I don't know. I'm not a sorcerer."

Yennefer extended a hand toward Geralt, snapping her fingers in suggestion. "Medallion."

Ciri plucked Kain's medallion off her neck and handed it to Yennefer. "This is Kain's."

She bent her head and examined the medallion that still rested upon her chest. Vesemir's. "The Crone used this to cut Kain the day we killed her sisters. It caught blood. That must be how she's been tracking him in the first place."

Yennefer took Kain's medallion, her gaze shifting to Ciri's throat where the other was still secured. "Depending on the severity of the cut and how much blood the medallion managed to retain, it's certainly possible. It would be useful here."

Yennefer turned the medallion over on her palm and tried to lock onto his energy signature. It shot from her hand, skittering across the air like a bug, pausing inches from the wall.

"I suppose you both already suspected that he's in another plane?"

"We figured," Geralt nodded, and waved a hand at the ceiling. "There is a tapestry of them - which might be the way in or at least a window. But we cannot get in without your help. Ciri can't lock on his energy. Like something's blocking it. And we know what. Or who."

"That block that you speak of would be because of the veil they're in. She's invited him in, essentially, and everything else is pushed out. I can hardly even hold onto his energy."

The medallion thumped against the wall and then leapt back into her hand like a dismissed child.

"The only way I can surmise going after him would be… you," Yennefer mused, her eyes coming to rest on Geralt. "With all you've learned - if you two truly are related, your blood should be enough of a connection to help break through her seal."

The Witcher considered it and nodded. "Makes sense."

When they all climbed back into the shrine and stood before the tapestry bathing in the flickering candlelight, Geralt pulled his knife out and peered at Yennefer. "How are we gonna do this?"

Yennefer studied the tapestry, enthralled by the fine details, the beautiful faces of three woman and felt every ounce of its magic as if it were a boa constricting around her throat. Either the Crone had sensed that they'd brought in magical help or it was part of their security.

There wasn't much time.

Yennefer turned Geralt's right hand palm up and ran the blade across it, placing the medallion in the center, carefully repeating the process with Ciri before encouraging them to hold hands.

"Now, focus. Focus on Kain's energy, on his blood, on the medallion in your hands and the connection it has to him. As it pulls—you'll feel it inside—let it guide you."

Ciri cast a cautious glance Yennefer's way before taking Geralt's hands in her own. She closed her eyes to seek the connection the sorceress spoke of and it wasn't long before she felt a stirring. That didn't mean she knew what to do.

"Am I to teleport?" Ciri whispered, her eyes still closed, fingers squeezing Geralt's.

"Only if you feel certain," Yennefer supplied.

Ciri reached for Yennefer as well, her brow furrowed as she locked on to her mystical tether with Kain. When the sorceress' hand was in Ciri's, she jumped, pulling Yennefer and Geralt through space and into a world that was not their own.

* * *

Her chanting became more and more vigorous the better she felt how magic brewed and gathered for the peak of the spell. The Weavess didn't doubt it would work - she felt it in her every bone, her every cell ached for success. She sensed them as if from beyond the veil. From whatever Limbo the nasty girl and her naughty boy had sent her sisters to. She was not going to be alone and weak any longer.

They were coming.

The spell thickened, gaining strength, while the Weavess chanted with more passion and will, putting everything she had into it. There was no another time, no new chances - just this one, the only one, and it had to work.

When magic began to sparkle at her fingertips and sting her old veins, she waved her hands, and their cauldron, with some ugly-looking slimy brew bubbling and worrying in it, nearly spilling over the brims, appeared suspended over the bonfire.

The Weavess chanted, her hands still raised, and it felt she was holding the cauldron with her will alone. Next, she summoned a knife and, chanting louder, sliced the blade over her palms, one after the other. Her blood, thick and dark, spilt reluctantly and dribbled into the murky waters around her feet that was worrying now like a stormy ocean. When the waves and vortexes gained more power, she cried out another part of the spell and overthrew the cauldron.

The slimy brew with some pieces of what no one would want to take a better look at sunk in the water, feeding the stormy power in it, and then something began to happen.

Two vortexes formed before the Crone as she chanted louder and louder, losing herself in the ecstasy of the spell that literally began to grow flesh and bones. Two figures started to rise from the vortexes. They looked like two lumps of mass at first, but little by little they formed their shapes. The holes of their mouths gaped, they screamed and wiggled like eels on a hot skillet, while their bodies sought to finish the transformation.

* * *

Yennefer expelled a breath as soon as the travel had ended, her hand still tightly closed around Ciri's, as if the idea of letting her go meant possibly losing her.

She took quick account of what they'd be up against inside. The first thing she noticed was that instead of one Crone, there were three. One more grotesque and imposing than the other. Not that she'd ever been face to face with them herself. Yennefer, Geralt and Ciri were also standing in ankle-deep swamp water, which felt as if were soaking into her boots, singed with dark magic and automatically had Yennefer summon a shield with her free hand to prevent an immediate attack.

Ciri inhaled sharply, the stench of death and decay burning her nostrils. But that didn't matter. None of the discomforts did.

Because she saw Kain, pale and unconscious, blood dripping steadily from both his arms. It terrified Ciri to her very core and she acted without thinking, jumping the distance between herself and Weavess, sword raised.

The Crone saw her coming and smacked the girl hard in the chest with her arm before the sword could do any damage, sending Ciri flying. Her back collided with the stone wall of the cave with a crunch that reverberated inside Ciri's skull. She fell forward and to her knees in the filthy water, gasping for breath, but her blazing emerald gaze still set on Weavess, as if she was hoping the old hag would spontaneously catch on fire.

"Aaah! The naughty girl!" the two Crones screamed. They had slime all over them as if it was some sort of bubble or a cocoon they emerged from. "We're going to eat your feet, you naughty, NAUGHTY GIRRRRRL!"

Geralt's eyes shot to Kain strapped to a post, then to Ciri as she dashed toward the Weavess and was sent flying. He heard the crack, and cold fury flooded his mind.

The Witcher flung his knife toward the Weavess and dashed with his sword bared toward the bulkiest one of them. The Brewess laughed nastily and moved away from his blow with incredible agility and grace. Their screeching laughter made his ears hurt, as if they pricked long needles right through his brain. The sounds rose and rose, becoming unbearably high-pitched, while the Crones tapped into their magic and began blinking from place to place. The Weavess turned into a murder of crows and attacked Ciri while her sisters focused on Geralt.

The Whispess spread her arms, and something in Geralt's head shimmered and vibrated; a load of voices filled his mind, stretching it like they were physical hands and wiggling fingers. Geralt growled and shook his head, his vision darkening for a scary moment. His medallion was sending thrills through his chest. The potions didn't wear off yet, but he felt they were of little help, save the cat vision.

Yennefer's shield dropped as the two jumped into action. She herself wasn't a fighter, not of the physical sort, but she did react as needed, reaching out with one hand to soften the blow for Ciri as she was thrown. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to anticipate it fully, hopeful at least it would limit whatever damage Ciri incurred. And not a moment too soon.

They were at full-fledged war and it was hard to keep track. It was hard to throw any blows, for she feared to accidentally hit her loved ones – they were too close to the atrocities they were fighting.

For a moment Yennefer debated freeing Kain from his post, to limit the source of blood magic he was feeding the Crones. The most logical in her mind. Before she could make any sort of attempt at the plan, her eyes came to rest on Geralt, the one who for a time seemed the most distressed and at odds with his opponent.

Yennefer lurched forward angrily from where they'd been ignoring her, sending the overturned cauldron flying at the Crone like a cannonball.

The cauldron caught the Whispess in the head. She staggered, surprised, and lost her focus for just one moment, which Geralt needed to regain his. He slashed his sword across her chest and abdomen, releasing a fountain of her black blood and innards that smelled of a rotting swamp.

The Crones wailed in unison, filling the cave with more chaos: the waters splashing, dried twigs and branches flying, the bonfire leaping upwards and spreading through water as if it were oil.

The Brewess stepped toward the Witcher menacingly and raised her log-like arms. The worrying waters around him began to boil.

_We can't win this here_, he realized with painful clarity. This was like fighting a storm in the open ocean.

He jumped, doing a quick pirouette in the air as he struck his sword into the bulk of the Brewess, and landed behind her. It made little to no difference, for she showed no pain from the slash.

From the corner of his eye he saw Ciri battling crows, and yelled, "She's the anchor for them!"

As well as this whole place, his mind added.

The swarm of crows was suffocating, hindering Ciri's vision. It was all just black feathers and sharp talons raking across every inch of exposed flesh she possessed. Shielding herself with her arms did very little to prevent the crows' attack.

Same with jumping. Every time Ciri leapt through space, the crows were right there, as if caught up in the wake of her powers.

She heard terrible shrieks and cries and hoped it came from the crones rather than her own companions. Beyond that, she couldn't hear much at all. The flapping of wings and cawing of birds drowning out everything else.

Ciri felt trapped. A small animal being taken down by a bigger one. It both infuriated her and filled her with a sense of dread. She could feel her magic vibrate inside her, threatening to escape in a violent blast. But she feared that, too. She didn't want to harm anyone but the Crones.

Still, Ciri could only maintain so much control in this situation. Her magic erupted in small, but powerful bursts, targeting the crows with a fiery fury. Those afflicted squawked in pain, and the ones still able to fly retreated, feathery fireballs bouncing blindly off the cave walls, giving Ciri the opportunity to breathe.

The Crones wailed and howled, affected by Ciri's fire scorching the Weavess' crows, supporting Geralt's idea of her still being a sort of an anchor for her newly-remade sisters.

The Weavess took her form, staggering as she tried to put out the flames licking her rags and skirt. She fell, splashing, rolling in the water, and there Geralt reached her, stabbing his sword into her middle, pinning her like an eel.

The trio howled again, the Weavess wiggling and hissing as he tried to slice her further until the Brewess rammed into him with her body. He propelled into the wall, his sword knocked out of his hand and remaining in the Crone's flesh. The Brewess yanked it out of her sister and threw it away like something disgusting.

When the water Yennefer was standing in began to ignite, she waved both hands and shielded herself and Ciri. Unfortunately, with them spread out so far, she wasn't able to include Geralt in her missive. But it was unnecessary. He was moving, fighting back. The fire also didn't help, spreading, heating the water to a point where it began to soak through her boots and burn tender skin.

She tried for a moment to catch Ciri's eye, to make sure she was ready, and then lowered their shields, focusing on the fire, pushing it away from her, parting the water so that it would carry the flame around in an arch and meet in the middle.

The middle happened to be where the larger Crone was helping the limbed one pinned to the ground. Geralt had already been tossed away, making her target easier to hit without needing to alert him.

The Brewess sensing the shift and heat, shielded the Weavess with her massive body, taking the brunt of the flame damage. Yennefer didn't linger, aware that fighting in the midst of a magic battlefield that the Crones controlled was like fighting a stone. They could only do so much before their limitations set in.

"Ciri!" Yennefer cried, dashing to meet her, jerking a look toward Kain. "Get him off that post and get him out of here!"

Ciri was already headed that way, darting through the chaos until her fingers wrapped around Kain's arm. She didn't need to bother with the restraints; they were no match for her jumping.

She took Kain away and leapt with him to grab Yennefer. She needed the sorceress to heal him, so Ciri could return to Geralt and fight by his side.

They appeared in the shrine a second later, on the floor in front of the tapestry. Ciri shifted her hold on Kain, concern creasing her brow. It was impossible to know how much blood he had lost.

"You have to help him," she told Yennefer. "You have to heal him."

Yennefer tried to stave the bleeding of Kain's wrists.

"I'll do what I can," Yennefer promised.

She'd used so much magic that she knew it was impossible, but she didn't need Ciri going back in there with her concern for him distracting her. That would cost them all.

Wiping blood from her eyes, Ciri stood on shaky legs, intending to find her way back to Geralt and the Crones when the tapestry caught her gaze. It was shimmering, more alive than before, and for a moment Ciri couldn't look away. A cold sense of dread rippled down Ciri's spine.

"It's evil," she whispered, swaying on her feet. "We have to destroy it."

Yennefer collected Kain's blood on her hands and reached for Ciri so she could paint it onto her wrists.

"We're not leaving here without setting it ablaze," she agreed.

What she was doing was strengthening Ciri's connection to Geralt. Yennefer feared that the Crones' magic and how hard they were fighting would work against her on her way back in.

Ciri held her arms out for Yennefer without paying much attention to what the sorceress was doing. She was too preoccupied staring at the tapestry. If she looked at it from a certain angle, the women depicted looked to be moving.

"How do we destroy it?" she whispered, already aware something as common as the flames the candles around them held would do nothing. This was dark magic. Powerful.

Yennefer needed time to think. There were only a few ways they could destroy the object. They could draw the magic out of the tapestry and push it elsewhere, destroying it as it went or they could counterattack the magic turning it on itself. The risk was Geralt still inside and the fact that they'd already used so much of their magic. The first option would at least give Ciri time to bolt back inside. But once the collapse started, how long before it would disintegrate and make that impossible? Yennefer had no idea how Geralt was holding up without them there to assist him and those monsters were tough.

"Find something to stop the bleeding," Yennefer instructed, stepping away from Kain and Ciri to inspect the tapestry more closely. She skimmed her fingers across the corners, thousands of needles poking into her palm as she tried to decipher what it was made of.

She focused on the center, on the false representations of the three women, on the space beneath her hand, trying to lessen the infliction, to weaken it.

A test.

Yennefer's voice pulled Ciri out of her semi-trance and she fell to her knees in front of an unconscious Kain. He was deathly pale and looked far too vulnerable to her liking. She already knew no amount of cloth or bandages would do him any good. He'd been bleeding too long for that.

But Ciri still covered the wounds on his forearms with her hands, clutching him as though she was trying to pin him to the floor. He didn't stir or seem to notice at all.

She closed her eyes and focused her magic as best she could given the current situation, building up her intention of healing with love and respect, allowing her power to flow into him, to aid his body, to minimize his cuts and wounds until only the scars were left behind.

Beads of sweat subtly coated Ciri's forehead when she opened her eyes again. Not from magical exertion, but from frowning so deeply in concentration her body had a reaction of its own.

She didn't wipe the blood off her hands but rather curled them to fists to keep her skin stained. No matter how small, it was a connection to Kain himself, and to Geralt.

Yennefer squeezed her eyes against the overwhelming agony crawling up her arms, into her shoulders, around her neck and down her spine. She was used to pain, had combated it most of her life, but even she had her limitations. She needed more time to study up on the tapestry, on the power within and what the Weavess used to hold it together. She could guess, alternate between varying attacks of magic, but again that would take time – time they didn't have. The most she'd been able to do was have it sway as if rushed by a breeze, the shimmering gold temporarily brightened before fading away into nothingness.

Yennefer winced and drew back, cradling her hands, unsurprised to see that her palms were actually blistered.

"We need to overwhelm it somehow, and I can't do it alone."

Triss flashed to the forefront of Yennefer's mind. If only she'd thought to send Triss a message to help before exerting herself.

Ciri looked to Yennefer, noticed her wounded hands, and scowled in displeasure. She loathed those Crones and everything they were.

"I need to return to Geralt," Ciri chimed in, getting to her feet. "He can't take on all three of them forever. I have to help him."

She paused, eyeing her bloodied fingers as if the crimson revealed something she'd forgotten.

"I can destroy them," she whispered, her gaze lifting to Yennefer again. "I have the power. And it's aching to be released."

Kain stirred with a soft groan, his head heavy as if filled with liquid metal, his mouth dry. He felt dried out and dying like that dead desert they had seen in the world Avallac'h took them to.

His thoughts were in disarray, a flock of spooked birds. But one of them blinked through his mind most frequently: Ciri.

Had she come for him? Had she fallen in that trap?

He felt her magic. She was close. And that meant yes - she found her way into the same spider web.

He grunted with effort and tried to open his eyes. It was like fighting a huge rock pinning you to the ground with weight exceeding anything you can push away.

"No," Yennefer said. She reached for Ciri. "I know you're strong, but I'm not so sure you'll be able to maintain your control. If you go crazy in there, you'll not only be killing yourself, you'll be killing Geralt, too." Yennefer hadn't seen in the past but what she'd heard was enough to terrify her. "You need an anchor, someone or something to be able to even you out and unfortunately your elf isn't here. Grab Geralt and get out. If we have to, we'll deal with the tapestry from out here."

As if to second the thought Kain broke the silence with a groan. Yennefer averted her attention to the boy, noticing that Ciri had managed to seal his wrist wounds. Good sign. It also meant she'd exerted herself quite a bit as healing wasn't an easy task.

"I'll find a way," Ciri promised. "But if anything were to happen, if the Crones show up here, you take him and get out." She gestured to Kain, trusting Yennefer to portal him and herself away from the bog if need be.

She vanished on the spot, drawing on her connection with Geralt to find her way back to him again.


	54. Chapter 54

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* * *

The fight went on for what felt like a year. Geralt lost all concept of time, all thoughts of how this or that blow of their magic hurt, how every muscle of his body screamed and burned despite the potion - which was wearing out.

He rolled, he sliced, he stabbed and dodged and stabbed again. He drew their dark blood but it hardly seemed to relinquish their fighting rage. They all burned with the desire to avenge their power and lost lives.

No mortal would ever make them lose.

Ciri appeared in the cave, opposite of where Geralt and the Crones were still battling. It became instantly clear to her what she had to do. Instinct prevailed.

She watched her guardian fight for his life – for hers – and it brought to mind every other occasion he had been forced to do so. So many times, so many years. Yennefer, too.

She thought of the men, the corrupted, power-hungry men who had ruined Ciri's life because of their desire to possess her like a trophy. All the damage that had come from their attempts to claim her.

She thought of the Crones – the rulers of no-mans-land – and of their fake devotion to womankind. Preaching one thing, yet eager to please the elven king like the disgusting, twisted creatures they were.

It filled Ciri with such a rage that could not be contained by her body alone. It moved outside. It took hold of the Crones' magic, the very edges of their dimension itself, and it began to push it towards destruction.

Like when Avallac'h had taught Ciri to crush rocks, her hands moved towards each other, attempting to meet in the middle and crush whatever resistance lay between them. The cave-roof dropped rock after rock down into the filthy water, letting in beams of brilliant light from the world beyond. The ground shook, making both the Crones and Geralt stumble as they fought.

One of the Crones set her sight on Ciri and dashed for her with a shriek of fury.

Ciri watched from above as if her soul had split in two and hovered over her body. The Crone only made it so far before she hit a shield and bounced back.

It wasn't at once that Geralt realized Ciri was back - only when the ground began to shake and rocks started to rain down on them did he catch a glimpse of the change. His medallion vibrated violently, and Ciri stood like a goddess of vengeance, her face distorted in fury, her hair flying as if there was a blizzard, and her stance reflected magic as frightening as when she destroyed the man who shot Kain on the Bald Mountain.

She was doing the same, but on a larger scale, he realized.

His heart fell in fear for her, but he saw no other way to turn the tables here: the Crones were too strong. Kain's blood added the might they needed to become deadlier.

Even in her out-of-body state of mind, Ciri felt her muscles ache with the effort it took to continue her work. Her blood was boiling, her skin felt scorching hot. And as the dimension crumbled before her eyes, she knew she would not be able to finish the task with raw power alone. She needed more.

So, like Kain had taught her in the forests of Novigrad, Ciri sought out nature's energy itself. She pulled deeply from the very depths of the swamp, sucked the life from the water and trees and animals, and with a scream channeled it into her desire to destroy the Crones' place of power entirely. The sheer magnitude of power that flowed through her shot arousal straight to Ciri's core. It throbbed deliciously and spread through her veins like wildfire, promising further pleasure the more of the borrowed magic she used.

As soon as the Crones caught up on the tide of power Ciri started, they left Geralt be, distracted by their dimension beginning to crumble. Geralt caught his breath, his head swimming from over-exhausting himself. He propped himself on his sword to not fall down, and the next moment everything went black.

Ciri felt it the moment the world was on the brink of total destruction and with one last push, she shattered it, jumping and snatching Geralt away from the chaos to bring them both back to where Yennefer and Kain were waiting.

* * *

With nothing else that she could do for the time, Yennefer glanced down at Kain. He was still breathing and that was enough for her. She crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lower lip uncharacteristically, gaze glued to the tapestry. For a long time, nothing happened, and then it began to flicker, that bright color going off and on like a lantern, becoming faster and faster until eventually, the color seemed to fade from it completely.

Ciri and Geralt appeared as if bringing the last ounce of color with them. Yennefer moved to inspect the damage to the two.

Geralt nearly thought he died or passed out, but the darkness dissipated to show the shrine. Most of the candles blew out, and suddenly the tapestry - now bleak like a washcloth - caught fire that blazed blindingly, setting alright everything around it and spreading like poison.

"We gotta get out of here," Geralt said, sheathing his sword and moving to Kain on the ground. The Cat Witcher was unconscious and very pale.

The Witcher dragged his brother out of the house that was catching fire like a dried heap of hay. Yen and Ciri were close behind him.

Geralt lowered onto his knees at one of the pools to rest as they watched the hut burn. He was breathing heavily, his sight flickering as the potions were finally terminating their effects.

He looked from Ciri to Yennefer. "Are you both all right?"

"Never better," Ciri breathed. Her whole body still vibrated with power and it felt like it would take some time for her to come down from the high.

Though the pale demeanor of Kain knocked some of the confidence from her. She approached him cautiously. "He needs more healing. He lost so much blood."

Ciri hardly paid attention to the burning chapel behind them, nor noticed that the swamp had drained of all color and life.

Yennefer glanced in the direction of the Crones' home. It resembled nothing of what it had been a moment ago, the fire having spread at once, swallowing it whole. In another hour there would be nothing left. It was then that she noticed the surrounding area, too, looked duller. That the trees, ground, and water had lost their color. The Crones' magic spread far and wide across their swamp nest. Thank the Gods she wasn't sticking around long. She didn't like the idea of leaving Geralt to tend to his horses alone when he was covered in so much grime and blood.

Geralt made an effort to get his wits together. It was hard - he was barely awake, and coming down from the potion's effect was hitting him harder.

"The Crones were in cahoots with Eredin," he said, looking up at Ciri. "The Riders or their mage might yet arrive. We have to get out. Take Yennefer and Kain away from here. To Mother Nenneke. It's the closest place. I'll get the horses and come after you. Go now, Ciri. _Now_. Yennefer will shield your presence if the Hunt decides to search for you. Go. I'll be there in a day or so."

"You know how to reach me, if you need me," Yennefer said, glancing at the bracelet she'd given him. A little trinket to keep them connected and made it easier to find him.

She extended a hand toward Ciri.

Ciri hesitated a moment, eyeing her guardian with concern, then leaned down to take hold of Kain's hand, taking Yennefer's with the other. The moment the sorceress touched her, they were gone.

A second later, they appeared in the main building of Melitele's Temple, startling several priestesses and students who were walking to and fro with their respective tasks. Several of the older ones clutched their chests dramatically.

"Fetch Mother Nenneke," Ciri commanded as if she had such a right. Luckily, she seemed to have spoken with enough authority to have everyone scurry to see to her order.

Yennefer took a quick purchase of the hall, her eyes setting on one of the girls. "You," Yennefer said, pointing at her. "Find this man a bed."

The girl's eyes widened and darted in search of another authority figure. Yennefer snapped her fingers flippantly to regain her attention. Nenneke wouldn't be happy with Yennefer's orders, not that Nenneke was ever happy with her.

Besides, it's what Nenneke would eventually instruct them to do. Yennefer might as well get them started.

The three young ones ran off for Mother Nenneke as requested, while a couple of older ones, who got over the initial fright, approached Ciri and Yennefer and knelt by Kain's side inspecting him.

"So pale," one of them whispered and looked up between the ashen-haired girl and the sorceress. "What happened? Are you two all right? You look not much better."

"Lady Yennefer, is it?" another one asked, scrutinizing the sorceress. "I remember you've stayed nine winters ago or so... Welcome back."

"I'll get the means to carry him," the first one said, getting up, and hurried away.

"You need baths and a room to stay," the remaining priestess said. "We'll see to it when Mother comes. Do you have any injuries? And... where is his?"

There was a lot of information being thrown their way, along with questions that Yennefer unexpectedly felt too tired to answer. She found her voice – she always did.

"His blood was being drained for an uncertain amount of time. We managed to heal his open wounds relatively well, but we didn't have the means to give him the nourishment needed to speed up his healing. He's a witcher. As for my daughter and I, she needs to be looked over," Yennefer confirmed that by scanning Ciri slowly from head to toe. Ciri was covered in a lot of blood. Yennefer knew some was what she had added, but there was also that which she couldn't be sure of. "I just need your generous offer of lodging."

"I'm fine," Ciri protested, her words a direct contradiction to her body's sudden reaction. The feeling of elation and power was draining from her, and as it did, gave way to exhaustion. She slumped to her knees next to Kain on the floor, hovering over him protectively as the priestesses and novices began to fuss.

"You don't look fine, child," the priestess said softly, peering at Ciri with motherly kindness that was so rare in the world outside the Temple.

"Yennefer!"

Mother Nenneke was approaching hastily from across the hall and a small group of priestesses following her like a swarm of birds. Her eyes landed on the ashen-haired girl kneeling next to Kain, and her pace faltered, shock reflected on her face.

"Ciri? Oh, by the Goddess, is this really you? My sweet child! You're well, my sweet child!"

Yennefer tipped her head in acknowledgment. She'd forgotten that the elderly woman hadn't seen her since her return. An image of a younger Nenneke and even smaller Ciri popped into her mind.

Ignoring Yennefer, Nenneke pulled Ciri up into her embrace, warm and loving as it always had been.

When she released Ciri, her brow furrowed at the sight of Kain. She stilled, then looked to Ciri, seemingly composing herself. "What happened?"

"She went up against some monsters. Kain— Geralt's— He's a witcher," Yennefer corrected, briefly answering for her, deciding not to offer up the familiar connection. "Was bled out. Geralt's on his way here."

Ciri was grateful Yennefer took on the responsibility of answering Mother Nenneke's questions because Ciri herself suddenly felt too drained. The old woman's embrace was warm and held a certain hint of familiarity, and yet it had been so long since they'd last seen one another that an unusual shyness crept over Ciri.

"He needs help," she said eventually, gesturing to Kain. "Quickly."

"Of course." Nenneke turned to the priestess that lingered near them all this time. "We'll take him to the room now."

The priestess nodded and stepped away, her eyes flicked to the group of priestesses hurrying with a stretcher. They were quick and neat in their group efforts, and within the next few minutes Kain was deposited carefully on a bed that had been occupied by Geralt more than once years before.

Nenneke fussed around him, examining and quietly consulting another priestess who went away to see about the orders.

Yennefer and Ciri were escorted to the room they had lived in during their training almost a decade ago. The room was clean and the windows were open to vent it, as if the guests had been expected. Outside a thunderstorm was gathering, the sky was gradually darkening with heavy, purple clouds.

"Are you doing that?" Ciri asked with a furrowed brow, staring at the oncoming storm in its purple glory when she and Yennefer were left alone in their room.

Yennefer moved over to the window studying the incoming storm, hopeful that Geralt was still on his way and hadn't been struck by some complication. If only he hadn't been so stubborn. She could have gladly taken care of the horses and made it back. Yennefer knew she should have fought him on it. She sighed. If he wasn't back by next sundown or sometime within the middle of the next night, she'd make a point of going in search of him.

Yennefer turned her back on the weather, on the ominous entanglement and scanned their bedroom. And it had been their room. It wasn't now. They hadn't been here in years and any trace of their past life had long since been removed. The memories, however, the happiness Yennefer felt being in this space again – more importantly with Ciri – was beyond words or description. Her Ciri, whom - at her more desperate and darker times - Yennefer had thought she might never see again.

It almost made her want to cry.

"No," Yennefer answered, unbuttoning the fixings on her corset. The bath hadn't been filled yet, but the novices would be along soon enough to do so. "But it is a relevant enough depiction of how I think this day has gone. Seems fitting."

"What do you mean?" Ciri asked, turning to regard the sorceress as she undressed. She was still as beautiful as when the two first met. Ciri had envied Yennefer's beauty then. If she was truthful with herself, she still did to a certain extent. "We won. For once, accomplished what we set out to do. The Crones are dead. For good this time."

"I don't feel particularly good about Geralt being out there alone. I know we won the battle, but the fight's not over until he's here with us." A lot could happen in the span it took for him to get here. Yennefer was too familiar with how quickly those tides could change and weather was always an indicator.

The sorceress took a seat at the dressing table, missing the lines of rouges and perfumes that used to decorate the table. Not that they'd meant to stay here very long. Yennefer knew they'd been sent here for Kain, and Kain alone. Their healers were of the best and, more importantly, Geralt trusted Nenneke.

"What did you do in there? Can you be sure they'll stay dead this time?"

Ciri also worried for Geralt, but had to trust he would not have sent them ahead if he was not going to be all right. He would never do that to her. Would never leave without saying goodbye.

"I destroyed their dimension," Ciri said, unbuckling her belt. She threw it and the weapons attached onto the foot of the nearest bed. "With them in it. Should have done the trick."

Yennefer scoffed and sat back, resting against the wood of the dresser, her legs crossing as she undid the intricate laces on her boots. "Details. How exactly did you achieve that?"

"The same way I crush stones." Ciri mimicked her earlier movements, pushing her palms closer together. Without the actual magic this time. She shrugged. "It just came to me. Like my body already knew what to do."

She leaned down to pull off her boots, then started on the rest of her bloodied attire. She still wasn't sure how much of the blood was hers and how much was Kain's. Or the Crones'.

Yennefer had nothing else to say or even ask. There was no way to be sure if Ciri had managed to destroy the Crones, even if the outside ruin had been an indicator. The magic had still been there.

A knock sounded on the door and then gently swept open, revealing a line of novices, all with a bucket in hand and an accommodating smile on their faces. They swept into the room, one after the other in an orderly fashion, dumping the water into the wooden bath, leaving as swiftly as they'd arrived.

"Mother Nenneke thought you might want something to eat," one remaining girl said and set down a bowl of apples on the dressing table beside Yennefer, bowing lightly before she left, closing the door behind her with such grace that it was scarcely heard.

Yennefer gestured to the water for Ciri to make use of it first.

"After you."

The novices hadn't brought any of the scented soaps that Yennefer liked as Nenneke didn't see value in such items and lived on the bare necessities. Yennefer helped herself to an apple and toed off a boot.

For once, Ciri didn't feel self-conscious in the nude despite the fact several strangers had just traipsed through their room. She was too exhausted to feel shame.

Dipping a toe in the warm water, she quickly climbed into the tub and settled down, blood and grime washing off her skin and making her feel more like herself again.

The last time she had bathed in the Temple of Melitele, Yennefer had been the one to wash her, the one to comb her hair. Ciri was too old for such treatments now, of course, and a part of her mourned that. She still longed to have the sorceress take care of her like she had when Ciri was a small girl. Just for now. When everything was dark and uncertain and Kain lay unconscious and Geralt was still so far away.

Yennefer took a bite out of her apple, dropping it back into the basket for later, removing the cloth fingers of her gloves one at a time. When she was done, she set the gloves down behind her and shifted the dresser chair forward, its legs noisily scraping against the cold floor, until it was perched next to the bath.

Yennefer stood, crossed the small space to the only part of the room that hadn't changed in their absence, and plucked the washcloth from its hanging space beside the sheet used for drying, and returned to Ciri's side.

Without a word she dipped the cloth into the water and began to slide it up Ciri's arms, shoulders, around her neck, being careful as she undid Ciri's usually messily tied hair so she could give her a thorough scrub.

When she was done, she squeezed out the cloth, hanging it over the edge of the tub and stepped aside to give Ciri privacy, and to finish her apple.

After her own bath, Yennefer crawled beneath the covers and promised herself only a handful of hours of sleep before she'd forcibly wake herself up to check for Geralt.

* * *

Geralt lingered around the bog for a while. He waited to feel better while the potion effects faded, and watched the shrine burn and spill a few sparks toward the former orphanage barn, but it didn't quite take in the humidity of the marsh. He had a feeling it was all magically reasonable: one was a place of darkness and another was an attempt at the goodness of a heart. He briefly wondered where the children might have gone when the woman who watched over them was taken away by her husband, the Bloody Baron. Geralt didn't want to think they perished without her care, and a part of him felt guilty for not looking to their safety back in the day. He had been too busy chasing his own child to take extra care of others, and it did him no honor on the humanity scale.

When the pointed roof of the Crones' shrine crumbled in an explosion of fiery sparks, Geralt went away. No drowner or hag attacked him. The corpse of the fiend they fought was beginning to fall apart like the rest of the sisters' magic that laced the bogland.

It shocked the Witcher how small the area was where they all got lost. He saw their trails now, fading on the spongy ground, and felt surreal. They had been barely a dozen feet from each other and heard nothing in the fog.

When Geralt found Roach (and caught her after chasing the spooked animal around the swamps for nearly twenty minutes), Onyx and Kelpie were nowhere to be seen. He called and searched, but the trail told him they departed. Knowing Kelpie and her bond with Ciri, Geralt had to assume she went for the girl on her own. Onyx must have followed - their trails headed in the same direction, both galloping.

"At least you waited for me," he murmured, stroking the mare's neck. Roach snorted and shook her head.

The first heavy drops of rain fell down when they reached the road and picked up their pace. Somewhere in the distance, it was thundering. It will douse the fire, Geralt thought. He hoped that by that time the filthy place would be reduced to smoldering charcoals.

When he finally arrived in Ellander in a day and rode up to the Temple gate, a new day had painted the sky in lighter colors, but the afternoon sun had difficulty breaking through the clouds.

He was met by a couple of young priestesses who served in the gardens and the stables. They took Roach and told him that Mother Nenneke was waiting for his arrival.

Geralt thanked them and headed for the Temple on tired feet. He tried not to think about a bed and sleep not to fall down right away.

* * *

"Why won't they let me see him?" Ciri exclaimed for the third time that day after returning from yet another attempt at sneaking into Kain's room. "We brought him here," she told Yennefer. "What do they think I am going to do? Finish him off?"

"They're healers, Ciri. We should trust them. Nenneke would never harm Kain. When they've tended to him as aptly as they can, I'm sure you'll be one of the first they permit entrance to."

Even if Mother Nenneke had strict views about men consorting with the women. Yennefer refrained from airing that suggestion to Ciri. Ciri was overwrought and given that Geralt had yet to arrive, Yennefer understood why that was.

"Why don't we take a walk around the grounds?"

Yennefer had helped herself to a book from the library earlier—as she'd done in the past—to kill some time, determined that if Geralt didn't arrive by the afternoon she'd go looking for him on horseback or any other means at her disposal. She flipped it shut, setting it aside on the bed covers and got to her feet, striding out of their shared room for the entrance.

"Fine," Ciri grumbled under her breath, following the sorceress outside. Her mood was sour, indeed. She'd expected to feel such elation once the crones were no longer a problem, but she didn't experience that sensation at all. Maybe it would come in time. But for now, Ciri mostly felt annoyed. Annoyed at the priestesses who barricaded Kain away as if he belonged to them. Priestesses who had been novices when Ciri was last here. Though she couldn't remember them all by name.

Some priestesses had gathered and whispered of the Witcher's arrival.

Yennefer's heart picked up in speed and some of her own concerns finally began to abate.

"Geralt's here?" Ciri asked Yennefer, pausing briefly in one of the hallways to glance after the whispering girls. "Why wouldn't he come see us?"

"I suspect because he has only just arrived," Yennefer replied. She looked to Ciri, surprised that she hadn't run ahead to greet him at the first whispers.

She seemed most enthusiastic to see him whenever they'd been parted and it had been a whole day now. Where was the jubilation? The usual relief that adorned her pretty face at the mention of his name? She must be more worried about Kain than Yennefer had anticipated.

Nothing of Yennefer's thoughts reflected on her face.

"Then we should go find him." Ciri liked to think he'd made it to the temple all right, without further damage. But he'd been so exhausted the day before when they parted ways, she was worried that might not be the case.

She advanced down the hallway and slipped past the small group of novices standing near the door overlooking the courtyard. They were all in titters, probably because a real live man had made an appearance.

He didn't look much better than he had the day before.

"Geralt!" Ciri called, ignoring the poignant stares of the girls behind her as she made her way down the stairs to greet him.

Smiling with relief, Geralt hastened his step to sweep her into his embrace and twirl her around like he did when she was ten.

"I'm happy you're fine," he said into her hair, and released her, sobered up. "How's Kain?"

"I don't know," Ciri said as Geralt put her back on her feet. "They won't let me see him. Are you alright?"

"Tired, stinking of swamps and Crones and sweat, but fine. I'll go see Nenneke. She'll tell me how things are."

Ciri nodded, restraining the temptation to have Geralt relay a threat regarding the door that continued to separate her from Kain.

"Say hello to Yennefer first." Ciri knew for a fact the sorceress had been worried.

"No, need to hurry. I'm right here," Yennefer announced as she came upon the two. She'd only been a few short steps behind Ciri.

Geralt gave the sorceress a warm smile and nodded, hesitating to touch her in his current state of dirty and dusty from the road. "Glad to see you rested, Yennefer. Now if you'll excuse me, ladies, I shall go find Nenneke and then hopefully a bath."

He started away.

All that concern and he'd merely spared Yennefer a smile. That hurt. She returned it nevertheless.

"I'm sure she is exceedingly eager to see you," she said, swiftly heading in the opposite direction to take the walk she'd suggested to Ciri.

Ciri looked between Geralt's retreating back and Yennefer's, quickly following in the latter's wake before catching up with her.

"You're hurt," she commented, daring a glance up at the sorceress. "You know it would not be like this if he remembered."

"But it is," Yennefer stated with cool practiced indifference, the type she'd served and fallen to for decades. And there was nothing to be done about it yet. "You should go see Kain. I'm sure – even with their means – you're more than capable of getting in to see him."

"If I were to hurt them – certainly," Ciri admitted. She'd not quite taken that step yet. "But I am here with you now."

"You think I mean for you to cut down the priestesses?" Yennefer asked and laughed softly. "I suspect that being here has conjured up a lot of old distasteful memories, but I thought that by now your opinion of me might have changed."

"My opinion of you?" Ciri frowned with mild confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Daughter, that your view of who I am can't be too respectable if you think I meant for you to exterminate a bunch of priestesses for a boy."

"I never said exterminate," Ciri said with a smirk. "And I was just pointing out that those women will not stand down unless faced with violence or on Nenneke's orders. They never much cared about what I had to say."

Yennefer nodded in mild agreement and smiled lightly, falling silent as they walked side by side. She had renewed insecurities on her mind and even more to think about.

Ciri eyed the gardens as they walked. They hadn't changed much since the last time she was here. Not much at all.

"Remember when I made you chase me over that hedge?" Ciri asked, pointing to the said topiary hedge some distance away, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Think you can still make that jump? Or are you too old now?"

Yennefer's hand shot to her heart as if offended, and then she took off, making a run for the hedge, determined to beat Ciri.

Ciri grinned, delighted by Yennefer's playfulness, and gave chase. They ran across the garden, among wildflowers and herbs planted by the priestesses. Ciri would never have been allowed to do so as a child under Nenneke's care, but Yennefer permitted it once or twice.

Just before they reached the hedge, Ciri swooped an arm around Yennefer's waist and pulled her down on the grass with her, giggling.

"Told you you wouldn't make it."

"So you did," Yennefer said somewhat breathlessly, smiling softly, enjoying the sound of Ciri's playful giggles. Yennefer looked at her and saw her face shift into that of the small girl she'd come to know and love. Why was Yennefer able to believe that? Why was it she could look at Ciri and know that the girl loved her and that Yennefer loved her back? Why was it she was so sure? Was it because Ciri was so open with her feelings or that it didn't matter whether Ciri loved Yennefer back? Geralt had always been open with his feelings, too. Not with speaking them, but he thought them, and for years, he'd let Yennefer intrude on those thoughts, to know their truth even if they couldn't say it. It was in the actions. And yet, it wasn't enough, it wasn't this…

The Djinn had been the mask. The haze of lust. At least where Geralt was concerned. Yennefer had never been surer of her feelings. Or maybe she only thought she was?

She thought of Istredd, of the life he offered her, of the life he begged her to share with him, of how comfortable they'd once been and how for a time—before Geralt—he'd been her only future. She thought, if anyone, he'd be the one to provide her with the family she desired, and yet, that's why she'd held onto him so tightly, knowing that it would never happen.

He deserved better, at times, in moments like this - she knew they all did.

"I should venture to Aed Gynvael in the coming days."

Ciri sat up, her face instantly a mask of concern and confusion. "Aed Gynvael? What's there?"

Yennefer mirrored Ciri's action and sat up, touching a hand to Ciri's cheek to soothe her concern. "Perhaps nothing, perhaps everything. I have a friend there that could help us or possibly supply us with information about the Wild Hunt that we might not have heard yet."

"Who? What friend?" Why hadn't Yennefer mentioned this before? Unless she was actually reluctant to see said friend and her choosing to now was an act of desperation.

"A friend," Yennefer repeated, lowering the hand from Ciri's face. "An old friend." She wasn't going to go into the details of their history. "How long before the Wild Hunt returns in full force?"

"I don't know," Ciri admitted. There was no true way of knowing that. But she suspected Eredin's people had found him by now and brought him home.

"Is this because of Geralt?"

Yennefer met Ciri's eyes, trying to gauge how to answer and then nodded. "Don't you worry about it, no matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere – at least not for very long."

"You best not," Ciri murmured, her gaze lowering to the grass beneath her hands, picking at one of the strands. "I only just got you back."

Yennefer placed her hand over Ciri's. "And I you. I'm not going anywhere for good. When this is over, no matter the outcome, we will be together."

Ciri squeezed her hand in return. "Count on it."

She looked forward to that day, though found it hard to imagine exactly how it would play out. All her other fantasies had turned out less than what she expected. Perhaps it was better not to have any expectations at all.

Ciri stood and pulled Yennefer up along with her, brushing her trousers clean of grass. "Let's finish that walk. You know, I never imagined going to war would include so much sitting."

Yennefer dusted the seat of her pants, linking arms with Ciri so they could take a slow walk this time. "If that's your only gripe, you're lucky that there aren't more politics involved. If there was, our lives would be at a possible standstill for years." Yennefer had already been in enough of those. "It's also why… if you feel anything, have anything that you want to say, don't hold back. These quiet times are when it's best to act because you never know when and how it'll change." Yennefer had learned that the hard way. Twice.

Ciri eyed the sorceress as they walked. "Do you have something you want to say?"

Or had she referred to Ciri's feelings for Kain? Ciri had already confessed those. To everyone, it felt like.

"Just that I love you, my ugly one," Yennefer said, affectionately patting Ciri's hand.

Ciri smiled despite the godawful nickname Yennefer had always insisted on calling her. "I love you too, mum."

Yennefer's heart felt full. They walked around the gardens for a time in contented silence, acknowledging those around until eventually they reached the stables.

"I assume you'll want to make sure your beast is fed, I shall go tend to my book."

"I do."

Kelpie and Onyx had arrived a few hours before Geralt. It had been a joy to have Kelpie back safe and sound, but their arrival had made Ciri worry about the Witcher. Apparently, the two horses had been just impatient.

"See you in a bit," she said and disappeared into the stables to see to her and Kain's mounts.

* * *

Geralt was escorted to the room he had been staying in many times before. Two priestesses were standing guard at the door, doing their prayers quietly, their lips moving in a subtle way.

Inside he saw a low bed covered in furs above the covers – the bed he had spent many nights and sometimes days, especially after the infamous striga contract. Kain was occupying it now, and his face looked too pale for a living person, white as a royal marble.

Nenneke sat next to the bed, her hand stroking the boy's cheek, then forehead as if probing for a fever. She looked not a day older than the last time Geralt saw her. When she turned to him as he walked in, he noticed a few more lines at her eyes and some more silver strands in her hair, but she was still the same Mother Nenneke. Must be her expert use of all the herbal ointments and potions, Geralt thought as he came up to her and let her squeeze him in a brief but hearty embrace.

"I'm so relieved you're all right," she said, sobering up as she settled back on the side of Kain's bed. Geralt pulled a chair to sit down.

"How is he?"

Nenneke scoffed. "Can't you see? Unresponsive. Lost too much blood, and there's barely anything I can do before he wakes up to accept the potions. And you?" She glared at him. "Ciri told me. The Crones, Geralt? The rulers of the boglands? What were you thinking? Or you merely didn't, as you sometimes prefer?"

"They were after Ciri," he said, holding her glare. "Didn't she tell you that?"

"I had no time to have a thorough discussion of your reckless deeds with her." She regarded Geralt sternly. "Has Ciri been running with Scoia'tael? You let her?"

"What? What is that supposed to mean? I have just recently found her." He scowled. "You know him, I take it?"

She sighed. "He's been here a few times before. The Goddess brings in many people, as you're well aware. One time as a witcher – with his wounded friend. Both Cats. We treated his sidekick, and they left a few days after. Another couple of times he came with renegades from Scoia'tael and Brokilon. Some needed treatment, all of them needed sanctuary, and you know this Temple accepts everyone."

Geralt smirked, "But when it comes to Ciri, you don't approve?"

"Oh by the Goddess, Geralt! You know what I mean. It's not about him personally."

"Do you know him personally?"

She pondered, looking at Kain with a melancholic expression. Then a subtle smile touched the corners of her mouth – barely there, but Geralt noticed. "He walked around the premises. And when he wandered into the greenhouse, his eyes… let us say, his warm feelings for nature's gifts won my sympathies. But then again, many elves are like that. Even dirty bloods."

"I see."

"He was never among the wounded. And now I have little to no idea what to do. His pulse is so weak he reminds me of you."

"Have you let Ciri see him?"

She scoffed again. "Why, she became a healer? Has your sorceress taught her? I highly doubt it."

Geralt refrained from smiling and clicked his tongue softly. "There's some things you should probably know."

She set her eyes on him with an inquisitive expectation. Geralt drew a deeper breath and started to talk. He tried to make it shorter than Dandelion would have accepted, but Nenneke needed no extra epithets to grasp the point.

When he finished, she sat still for a while, digesting. Then she shook her head slowly and sighed. "I have to admit, Geralt, even for someone like you who always finds himself in the middle of the strangest occurrences, this is a lot to take in."

"Yes, we're still… adjusting."

She waved a dismissive hand. "As fascinating as it is, barely any of it helps me with him." She thought about it, then shrugged. "Perhaps letting her see him might do some good." She stood up and beckoned Geralt. "Come on. You need a bath and a bed, let alone some hot meal and a few ointments."

Geralt got up as well. "I'll sleep here on the floor."

She gave him a look, then relented. "We shall fetch you a mattress."

"Thank you."

"Always."

* * *

Ciri made sure Onyx and Kelpie were watered and hayed, then spent a good chunk of the remaining afternoon brushing both horses down, removing every last trace of the swamp from their coats and hooves.

When she made her way back to the temple some time later, she came upon a few young novices trying to peek through the keyhole in the door to Kain's room. They straightened when they noticed Ciri, flushing a furious red and scattered away, looking absolutely mortified at having been caught.

There was no one guarding the room anymore, so Ciri finally entered. She found Geralt in a tub, looking as though he was half-asleep. That explained the giggling novices.

Kain lay on the single bed, apparently out cold.

"Any changes?" Ciri asked, closing the door behind her.

"None." He slid deeper into the tub, a bit self-conscious. Thankfully, herbs and petals floating on the surface obscured the view. He gave her a closer look. "Have you rested? Feeling all right?"

Ciri gave the tub a wide berth and took a seat on the edge of Kain's bed, finding his hand with hers.

"I'm fine. Glad we succeeded in what we set out to do but..." Her gaze lingered on Kain's pale features. "Wondering if it was worth it now."

"He's still alive," Geralt pointed out. "He pulled out at Kaer Morhen, he'll do it again. And had we left the Crone alone, she would never have stopped hunting you. Both of you. And who knows, maybe Eredin would be helping in return for whatever spying they've been doing for him in this world. I don't doubt it was worth it. They were a force we couldn't ignore."

"I suppose," Ciri agreed softly, her thumb running circles over the back of Kain's hand. "Did you have trouble on your journey or was it a smooth ride?"

"Mostly it was heavy rain and lightning. Roach hates those." He reflected a moment, then asked, "What you did back there in the bog... How did you do it? Avallac'h taught you that?"

Ciri shrugged like she had when Yennefer had asked the same question. "Remember the exercises we did back at Kaer Morhen? With the bricks? That's what I did – just on a much larger scale."

Geralt didn't know whether he should be impressed or a bit frightened. "You looked almost like when you're in a trance. But this time you kept your control and there was no screaming. It still was some crazy magic. Did it drain you?"

Ciri wasn't aware of what it had looked like, even if she'd experienced some sort of out-of-body sensation. She hadn't been looking down at herself as much as trying to get a good overlook of the cave itself.

"Yes," she answered honestly. "Towards the end. I wasn't sure it would work."

"I know we had no other choice there," he admitted. "But it was rather reckless on your part. I hope you won't have to use such drastic measures again. We better not run ourselves into a corner next time."

"Reckless is my middle name, apparently," Ciri murmured.

"Brought you a towel before you grow a fishtail," Nenneke announced, walking in. She frowned at Ciri's presence and tossed Geralt his towel, which smacked into his face. "Well, that's hardly appropriate for you to be here, young lady. Here," she handed her a bowl with a spoon nestled in it. "Rabbit stew will get some color into your cheeks. You need it. And turn away! You'll get plenty to look at when your time comes. This is not it."

Ciri took the bowl Nenneke handed her, not sure if she was more amused or annoyed by the woman's interference. As if they had to worry about Ciri lusting after her own father figure.

"I've already seen plenty," she said coldly, minding the older woman's demands anyway, facing Kain and keeping her back turned to Geralt so he could dry off.

"That's not something to be proud of," Nenneke chided - without any real heat, however. She produced a clean shirt and a pair of pants from the chest at the wall for Geralt. "Your own need a thorough cleaning, but the way they look and smell I believe we should burn them."

"Please, don't," Geralt said, pulling on the offered shirt, and studied the pants doubtfully before following Nenneke's impatient gesture and putting them on as well. "I've recently bought them in Novigrad."

"Should've worn something old to the swamps, then," she said. "Or something of your brash poet's. Wouldn't be a bad loss."

"Is there some stew for me?" Geralt inquired, toweling his hair.

"She's eating it," Nenneke said, but her mouth twitched with amusement. "I'll bring more, of course, and see about that mattress."

She turned to go, then stopped, remembering something.

"Ciri, if your sorceress wants to eat, you better find her and inquire about it. None of us will chase her around with bread before she asks for it when her room is vacated. We all have chores."

With that, she headed for the door.

Ciri waited until she heard the door close behind Nenneke, then turned to face Geralt.

"Why does Nenneke dislike Yennefer so?"

He shrugged and hung the damp towel on a chair's back. "She never revealed that mystery to me. Women can be strange in relation to each other, and priestesses are no exception. I harbor no fruitless ambition to understand any of it."

"It's not just Nenneke," Ciri reflected, helping herself to a spoonful of stew. "It's all women. Except me," she added as an afterthought. "Must be lonely." She cast one last longing look at Kain and stood. "I'll go get Yennefer her meal."

"Is Yennefer all right?" Geralt asked. He couldn't explain that strange feeling, like a forgotten dream, that claimed him when he thought of the sorceress being here at the Temple.

"Physically, yes. Emotionally... No, I don't think so." Ciri handed Geralt the rest of her stew. "She was talking about going to Aed Gynvael. Alone."

He frowned, his memory stirring faintly, "What's in Aed Gynvael?" He didn't take the stew and gestured for her to finish it.

"Someone who might help us with The Hunt. Or so she said."

"I hope she's not going anywhere this very moment. I'll have to speak to her." He looked at the window pensively. It was bothering him to feel he'd forgotten something important.

Ciri looked at him significantly. "Then maybe you should bring her supper?"

"He needs to rest."

Nenneke closed the door behind her and gave Geralt his bowl of stew.

"Everything else will have to wait while he sleeps. I hope neither of you can argue that."

"I'm in no arguing mood," Geralt said, settling on a chair to eat.

"Fine," Ciri said, briefly glowering Nenneke's way before she headed for the door. "I'll take care of it. Fetch me if Kain wakes."

"If he wakes, we'll have some healing to do," Nenneke murmured, taking her place at the bed.

Not long after Ciri left, three young priestesses brought the promised mattress, set it down, covered with sheets and a blanket, then left as quietly as they came.

"Why do you dislike Yennefer?" Geralt asked.

Nenneke scoffed. "Who told you that? Eat your stew and don't distract me with nonsense."

She closed her eyes and resumed her praying. Geralt smiled subtly to himself and continued to eat.


	55. Chapter 55

Yennefer managed to finish three chapters before she was disturbed. "You've been holed up with your beast for a while. Did you miss her that much?" she asked as Ciri entered their room.

"Stopped by to check on Geralt and Kain," Ciri explained, handing Yennefer a bowl of stew. She'd already finished her own in the kitchen. "Kain still hasn't woken."

Yennefer slipped a flower she'd picked in the book, letting the pages flatten it so it could act as a bookmark, smiling her thanks at Ciri as she took the offered stew from her. "Kain lost a lot of blood in the Crones' dimension. I'm amazed he was conscious at all after your healing. Is Nenneke tending to him herself?"

"Seems to be. She doesn't like me in there." And that only annoyed Ciri further.

She collapsed back on her bed, eyes on the ceiling.

"If you recall, in the past, there was another boy that Nenneke wasn't delighted about your socializing with on temple grounds, either." It didn't matter that Ciri knew Kain or that they might have shared a bed. The same would be said for Geralt and Yennefer, the sorceress surmised. "What made you think this time would be any different?"

"The fact I am no longer a child?" Ciri ventured. "It's not as though I was attempting to bed him."

"Ah, but Mother Nenneke is wise. She knows all about temptations and the evils of carnal lust. Besides, we both know that if Kain was to wake up and make such an offer, the likelihood that you'd refuse would be slight."

"He's barely got any blood left. I wouldn't direct what remains to _that_ part of his body," Ciri snarked, arms folded over her chest.

"When the moment happens, you'll hardly have control over it," Yennefer said, spooning more stew into her mouth. "What of Geralt? Has he told Mother Nenneke of his connection to Kain? Did she have anything of interest to say?"

"No idea. We didn't get to talk much considering Nenneke wanted me out."

Ciri leaned up on her elbows to regard the sorceress. "Why is she so snippy with you? She always has been."

"I assume it's because I represent everything she abhors. There have been many things said over the years about my relationship with Geralt, about the way I looked after you. Our views about life are very different. Sometimes that's the way it is. We can't get along with everyone in the world."

"Does she even really know you?" Ciri asked. "The real you? She can't. If she did, she would love you. Like I do."

"I don't believe she cares to delve that deep. All Nenneke knows for certain is that I've hurt Geralt, and that is enough to judge me by. Although she has a grudging respect for magic – my magic. She wouldn't have allowed me to train you as I did otherwise."

"Would it have been her decision in the first place?" Ciri frowned, trying to remember. "I thought Geralt sent me to train with you – specifically?"

"Had I decided to take you away from here immediately after my arrival – no. But that had never been the plan. Geralt trusts Nenneke and all those within to keep you safe. The very reason we're here now."

"I know." Ciri trusted them, too. Though, for some reason, she felt so easily annoyed by the priestesses of Melitele this time around. Maybe it was because she was no longer too young to stand her ground. "Where would you have taken me?" Ciri asked, a dreamy expression in her green eyes. "If not here, where would you have taken me?"

Yennefer considered the question at great length, eating through half her bowl of stew before answering.

"My home."

The very one that Geralt had detested so much he'd eventually run away. Yennefer wouldn't have been able to parade her around as she did him, their social interactions would have been limited, and she knew the child version of Ciri would have ultimately been bored without any friends to play with or fights to train with. Now that she thought about it, part of her longed for Ciri to see that life, to actually be within a space that Yennefer herself had harbored - to see if it would be as repugnant to her as it was to Geralt.

"Vengerberg."

Ciri smiled, liking the idea of seeing where Yennefer had grown up. "What is it like? Vengerberg?"

"Like any city. Full of activity. It's not too dissimilar from where you grew up. It's beautiful and green with forestry."

"I would like to see it one day." Maybe they would be able to go once The Hunt was defeated. Ciri, Geralt, and Yennefer. And Kain, if he decided to stick around.

Yennefer was pleased to hear that. She'd wanted for Ciri to see her home. A gift once all this war was over. Unfortunate that Geralt would most probably not be in that scenario.

"Did you ever see your parents again after becoming a sorceress?"

"Never," Yennefer answered, swallowing another spoonful of stew, more bitter than the others. "Never needed to or wanted to. I saw enough of them when I was a child."

Ciri knew how that felt. She didn't remember much of her mom and the little she did... she suspected most of her memories were simply stories told by other people. She would have liked to know Pavetta. Everyone said she was sweet.

Emhyr, however. She wished they'd never met at all.

"Did you have siblings?"

"Yes," Yennefer replied, losing her appetite. She set the bowl aside on the bedside table. "My father was harsh to my mother after she had me. And she was nothing more than a shell of the woman she used to be before I was summoned to the Aretuza school. If she survived, I doubt she would have ever conceived again or found any happiness. She had far too much bitterness."

"Broken families all around," Ciri mused. "Perhaps that was destiny as well. So that we would find each other."

"Destiny has always worked in mysterious ways," Yennefer agreed. But at the same time, she liked to challenge fate. If she didn't, she probably wouldn't have found her family.

Ciri eyed Yennefer and how she appeared to have lost her appetite. Ciri hadn't even noticed until now and felt guilty for pushing the subject of the sorceress's family. It clearly wasn't a happy one.

"I'm going out to train," she declared, pushing herself off the bed and moving to locate her sword.

Yennefer hadn't meant to make Ciri feel guilty. To counter the mood shift, she reached for the bowl once more.

"How are you feeling with your magic?"

"Better," Ciri replied, sheathing her sword. "Or at least, less useless than I was."

"That's good," Yennefer mused. She'd only tried to help her that once since Ciri returned. Other times Kain did the rest. "What of your dreams?"

"Nonexistent with your potions. Either that or I don't remember. No Eredin." And that was the important part. Ciri didn't want nightly visitors in her head.

"If that changes, I hope I'll be the first you confide in," Yennefer said. She hadn't been before and as it turned out, she was always the last to know. She gestured that Ciri was free to go as intended and that Yennefer wouldn't keep her, anymore, and proceeded to finish her stew.

"Of course," Ciri promised. Unless Kain was in her bed at the time. It was hard to hide anything from him at those times.

She gave the sorceress a reassuring smile and headed out the door, eager to get outside again where she could lose herself to training.

* * *

"His heart is slowing," Nenneke said, leaning back from examining Kain, and gave Geralt a mournful look, but he wasn't looking at her, his eyes locked on his brother's still features. He said nothing, and she slowly rose from the bed. "Shall I bring Ciri? From what you told me she's attached to him, but would it be good for her to watch him slip away? Perhaps it's better not to burden her young heart with it."

She was watching him with question, but Geralt didn't know what to say. He had no answers and hated himself for the cowardice of inclining to the latter suggestion. The moment one dies can be too hard on those he or she leaves behind. Geralt didn't want that pain for her - she'd had her lion share at Kaer Morhen.

Instead of an answer he shook his head, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. Nenneke sighed and quietly left the room. Geralt needed his rest, but she had no heart to remind him. All she could do was pray some more. The Great Mother Melitele was gracious and omnipotent, but Nenneke didn't know Her plans. She could only ask.

Geralt didn't register her leave, nor himself lowering to sit on the side of the bed. The gloomy, nasty feeling of an impending doom and one of forlorn wonder consumed him entirely.

_My little brother..._

The thought struck him like a hammer upside the head. Even though both of them were rather used to the discovered bond, it stabbed the Witcher now with a double blade of shocked wonder and guilt. Somehow Geralt hadn't felt their age gap - he figured it was due to knowing Gwyncath from School and sharing nearly the same views on most things - but there was more to it.

Geralt had brothers: the witchers he grew up with, the witchers he lived and fought with for decades; Lambert and Eskel who had been around easing his loneliness, and then Dandelion and Zoltan that he was lucky enough to have met. Not every single one of them shared Geralt's ideas but each found his own way to understanding the Witcher and earning a brotherly place in his heart.

He thought of Vesemir, and then all the friends he had lost before, those he grew up with, those who knew a part of Geralt that had been young and green, the one buried deep under the thick and rough layers of experience and pragmatism and the old hurt of an abandoned child.

Like a man watching the dawn break and color the dark smudges of the night with light of clarity, Geralt saw it. A hole he didn't realize he had, for, along with Ciri since her return, Kain had furtively mended it. He was the very link to Geralt's roots: not only to the witcher in him, but the deepest roots that ran beyond the School and connected him to where he truly came from. His very own family, the true 'belonging' Geralt never stopped craving. The Cat Witcher brought that piece of 'home', and just when it took hold and began to heal, it was about to be ripped away again.

Geralt wasn't sure he could take it.

Nor Ciri's pain.

Heaving a long sigh, he closed his eyes. His chest felt tight and his head was beginning to pound. He felt he couldn't breathe and went to the tiny balcony that allowed a view of the stables yard and the walkway beneath, as well as the fields and forests around. He propped his hands on the banister and focused on just taking in breaths and letting them out. It was going to rain again soon, he could smell it in the air.

He hung his head, his chin almost touching his chest, his eyes closed, his fingers digging into the rough grey stone of the banister. A part of him wanted to kill something, many somethings, and another yearned to run and seek comfort.

... bury his face in that fragrant raven hair... feel those long fingers combing through his soothingly...

"Here, drink this, Geralt."

He turned and met Nenneke's attentive eyes. The cup in her hand was steaming, he smelled vervain, calendula, mint and something else.

"It will help you rest."

He had no strength to argue and took the cup.

"Maybe you have to try and make him drink whatever potion that might help."

"We've tried," she said, checking on Kain. "Most spilled and whatever got through was meagre. We couldn't risk drowning him - all his muscles are flaccid. He's too deep in, his pulse too slow. Not enough blood to bring life around. I'm sorry, Geralt. We're not gods - we merely serve them."

She took the empty cup from him and squeezed his shoulder.

"Get some rest. I'll be back to watch him."

Geralt stepped over his mattress on the floor, sat down on the side of the bed again after Nenneke left, and fought the urge to go see Yennefer. The guilt of leaving Kain alone, the fear of him dying at that moment, and eventually his own horrid headache and exhaustion kept him pinned to place.

* * *

Grim thoughts preoccupied Nenneke on her way to the greenhouse, her scissors shifting across the bottom of the basket hanging on her arm. From the corner of her eye, she caught Ciri doing one of her pirouettes, sword swinging, and slowed her pace momentarily. Her heart shrivelled at the thought of the girl getting hurt. And Geralt... Had the two not suffered enough?

She huffed a sigh and hastened her step, hoping to sneak away while Ciri was engulfed in her fighting sequence.

But the girl did catch sight of the elderly priestess and she watched her disappear into the greenhouse with a thoughtful expression before eventually sheathing her sword and following.

Ciri found Nenneke amongst the herbs and plants, taking cuttings from a specimen Ciri couldn't remember the name of.

"Is that for Kain? Has he woken?"

Nenneke forced a smile for Ciri's sake and shook her head, snipping her scissors. "There is no change. You'd have been informed otherwise." She regarded the girl, her smile warming. "You've grown into such a beautiful young woman, Ciri. It comforts my heart to see you again."

Nenneke's earlier statement had led Ciri to believe otherwise regarding Kain waking but she didn't point that out.

Ciri forced a smile as well, resting one hand on Nenneke's arm. "It is good to see you too. Though I wish it was under different circumstances."

Nenneke stroked Ciri's shoulder with her free hand, eyeing her affectionately. "You always have a sanctuary here, my dear child. I hope you never forget it."

"I thank you," Ciri said, genuinely grateful. "Though it might mean bringing danger to your doorstep."

"Nonsense!" Nenneke scoffed in her usual manner and returned to snipping the plants she came for. "This place has always accepted all kinds of dangerous refugees, and not once has it fallen or failed to protect them. Don't worry about us. You'll always be safe here."

You've never met Eredin, Ciri thought, but didn't voice this aloud.

Instead she gestured to the plants. "Can I help? What are you making?"

"It's mostly for herbal teas and solutions to aid good sleep. There's plenty of use for those." She cast a glance at Ciri. "Have you rested fine?"

"Yes," Ciri lied and immediately moved on. "What are you doing for Kain?"

Nenneke hid her sigh, her smile dying out. "We tried to feed him a potion to aid the blood flow, but there is nothing we can do while he's out cold. We risk choking him while trying to save. The only thing we can do is pray and wait."

"I can do more," Ciri said after a moment of silence. She turned on her heels and headed out of the greenhouse.

She wasn't certain how much more she would be able to do. Ciri was not a trained healer. But she could try to help Kain with her energy, her magic.

Ciri ran up the stairs to the main building and let determined footfalls carry her to Kain and Geralt's room.

"Ciri!" Nenneke whirled after her, but the girl was too fast on her feet. As she always had been. The priestess shook her head morosely and returned to the plants.

* * *

That voice...

Flowing like velvet and whispering like butterfly wings. He would recognize it anywhere, even if it were nothing but the faintest murmur, the subtle moving of her lips, as soft and warm as in his deepest faded memory... That memory which shouldn't exist, but did.

He cracked his eyes open with effort as if they were fused with pine resin, his head too heavy to lift it off the skins to aid himself.

He saw the auburn halo around her hair illuminated by the candles burning behind her silhouette leaning over Kain. Her hands, as small (and soft) as he remembered pressed to Kain's forehead and chest - over his heart. Her lips were moving almost soundlessly, but Geralt caught the words he didn't understand. Her eyes were closed in concentration, but he knew she was aware of him watching. He drank in the vision hungrily, unable to assess what he felt. His heart was pounding like a knocking fist in his ribcage, which felt like it was attempting to break free. In the back of his mind, Geralt hated this excitement and anxiety his body betrayed. Last time they met she did nothing to encourage such reaction, nor offer any reassurance. Either from the candlelight or magic, her hands emanated some aura of their own. It sparked a faint hope in him.

He watched, not daring to interrupt, until her trance seemed to have faltered. Her lips stilled, slightly open, and then she took her hand off Kain's forehead and planted a soft, long kiss to it, her fingers ran through his hair one time with the tenderness that broke Geralt's heart.

"You came for him," he uttered, and although quietly, his voice sounded like a rusty mechanism. He was too tired to speak. There was also bitterness behind the statement Geralt wasn't proud of but couldn't deny. When she turned her eyes to him, he knew she sensed it. Nothing in her face suggested hurt or reprimand. She said nothing, just looking at him, and he added, "Hardly prayers will help, though. It's the very place of prayer, and he's dying under its roof."

"A mother's prayer can pull you from the bottom of an ocean," she said. Her face was unreadable, but without any unease or guilt he recalled from before.

Or maybe there had been none at all and his mind recorded things that were distorted by his fever and fatigue? How much of what he so meticulously guarded in his mind all those years was true?

Suddenly uneasy himself with those doubts, he gave her a nasty sneer. "I shall remember that when I happen on that bottom. Even though it's hardly helpful in _my_ regard."

There was something this time - in the depth of her eyes sparkling with candlelight. Or maybe it was once again a figment of his imagination craving for confirmation.

"It has nothing to do with any religion," she responded, "and all with the bond between a mother and her children."

"Children," he chuckled bitterly. "I believe there is only one such bond in you. But at least you followed it. I suppose I should be grateful if it helps him in the end."

She shook her head subtly, the halo around her hair shimmered. "You don't know what you're talking about. You merely decided for yourself that you do."

"Then why don't you ever explain?!" he roared. "Go ahead, enlighten me, Visenna, what is it I can't understand? A motherly bond? Yes, you will have to excuse my lack of experience, however, I dare state it's not solely my fault."

There was no fear in her at his reaction, merely a ghost of sadness. He thought something gleamed briefly on her cheek... a tear? "You're not ready," her response was.

"What the hell am I not ready for?" he growled, his eyes blazing even though he had a hard time keeping them open.

"To accept the truth you ask for," she said calmly.

Geralt jerked his chin toward Kain, glaring at her, "Does he understand it? Or maybe you simply spent more time lying to him to avoid talks like this if the world gets too small and your paths cross like ours did? Is that the truth? Or perhaps that truth is that you do have your bond with him and not with me? Is that what I have to accept, Visenna? Consider it ac—"

"Shhh," she shifted closer to him, her hand stroked tentatively (tenderly) across his cheek, cupping it, her thumb skimming his cheekbone.

Her hand was so warm and soft it sent thrills through his nerves. He went rigid, and then his muscles loosened and his eyelids doubled their weight. But he kept looking, drinking in her face, that smile so heartbreakingly full of gentle adoration he felt his heart ache in longing he had been killing in himself for seventy years. That kept returning.

"You need to sleep, Geralt," she whispered, stroking his hair.

He tried to protest and promise that her former trick wouldn't free her from his questions, but no sound came.

She looked at him as if he spoke. She was smiling tenderly, and he had no weapon to resist it with. "I never stopped loving you, Geralt. I never lied to either of you. I have never left you. I've always been right here." He felt her hand on his chest, then her lips, so soft and gentle, on his forehead. "People bound by destiny will always find each other."

He tried to speak, but couldn't.

"Sleep, Geralt. Sleep."

His hand shot forth with his last effort to catch her, and clamped on her arm.

"No!" he blinked through the sand of sleep, forcing the veil away. "You can't do this again!"

"Do what?!" Ciri stared down at Geralt with surprise and apprehension. He'd seemingly been asleep when she came in, but he'd suddenly lunged for her, his fingers capturing her wrist in a desperate grasp.

His glare slowly diminished the more the image came into focus. He swallowed hard, his eyes shot to the grip he had on Ciri's wrist. He let go and looked at Kain. He didn't seem any different.

"When did you come?"

"Just now," Ciri said, rubbing her wrist and watching him dubiously. "Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?"

He shook his head, rubbed his eyes. "No, I thought... I saw someone else here." He peered at her. "Have you seen anyone when you came? A priestess, maybe?"

Ciri shook her head. "No. It's just you. And him." She gestured for Kain, finding his hand with hers. He felt cold.

Geralt ran a hand through his hair, watching Ciri with an aching heart. A part of him cowardly wished for Yennefer to be here.

Ciri shifted on the bed, nimbly climbing over Kain so she could position herself behind him, his head resting in her lap. Her hands glided from his shoulders to his chest, and Ciri's eyes closed as she tried to feel for his heartbeat. It was there, very faintly.

She pushed her magic to the surface, letting it linger there in a silent offer for Kain's body to take from her what he needed in order to heal. Ciri didn't know if it would work or if it would even make the slightest difference. But she had to try.

"Ciri," Geralt looked guilty, as if it was his personal failure. It felt like one. "He's... We can't do anything."

She didn't open her eyes, but she'd heard him.

The words that slipped from her lips in a whisper was Elder Speech, though Ciri wasn't quite sure she had intended it to be. "Blood of my blood, take of mine power and be sated."

What was the point of this coveted blood of hers, if it could not be used to save those who deserved it?

He didn't disturb her but merely watched, grief squeezing his heart in his ribcage.

It was just a dream, after all... Just a stupid dream.

Nothing changed with Ciri's efforts, and Geralt couldn't stand her pain, nor his own.

('_I have never left you. I've always been right here_.')

He could still feel her touch on his chest. With a touch of wonder and a bit of despair joining grief in his soul, Geralt reached out and covered Ciri's hand on Kain's chest with his own. When she met his gaze, he managed a small smile for her sake.

"Let's try together."

He closed his eyes and thought of prayer. The kind that wasn't religious and called upon no other gods than love itself. He thought of her auburn hair shining in candlelight while she leaned over Kain.

With his eyes closed, he could almost hear that imperceptible sound of her lips moving to utter words he didn't understand. And then he heard something else.

He snapped his eyes open and pushed Ciri's hand away with his own to feel it.

"It's stronger or... more erratic," he murmured.

Kain's breath changed to a quicker one, which made his heart beat faster. It wasn't working all too well.

Geralt grasped Ciri's arm and urged, "Get Nenneke. Quick."

Ciri eased out of her seat so as to not rattle Kain. But the moment her feet hit the floor, she ran, throwing open the door and charging for the greenhouse where she had seen Mother Nenneke last.

* * *

Nenneke walked back from the greenhouse, her basket full of herbs under her arm, when she saw Yennefer strolling in the garden. The priestess pondered, watching her, then approached when the sorceress settled on a bench among rose bushes.

"Are you and Geralt at odds?" Nenneke asked.

"He hasn't told you? I'm surprised," Yennefer said, without a single hint of the actual emotion in her tone. "I thought you two spoke about everything."

"He doesn't have to tell me anything for me to catch on it. And we had no time to speak of your relationship - gods know I'm not an eager ear for that one. It's a rather simple deduction, sorceress: his brother is dying, and you're not with them."

"Unfortunate. And there's nothing that you or your healers can do to help him?"

"We're just priestesses," Nenneke shrugged. "He's lost too much blood. We cannot help him while he's too far out." She squinted slightly, gauging the raven-haired mage. "You don't seem particularly heartbroken about it. But then again, expecting you to share the feelings of people you state you care about might be a bit of a stretch."

"Just because I don't care whether he lives or dies, doesn't mean that I don't realize how it'll hurt those that I do care about," Yennefer countered bitterly. She'd respected the woman but never really liked her. "Have you tried infusing Kain with outsider blood? We've been dealing with a lot of casualties in the last town and I've seen it as a popular technique being used between the doctors. It's still relatively new but it's worth a try."

"He's not fully human, and it would make things worse. He would be already dead, for all I can guess."

"You said it yourself, you're a Priestess, not a healer – could be that you might be wrong."

Nenneke wasn't in the mood to tolerate it. She propped her free fist on her hip and glared at Yennefer. "We are healers, and you're perfectly aware of that. We know how bodies work and how to repair what can be repaired. We merely don't fool ourselves with empty hopes like some prefer to do." Her eyebrow flicked up momentarily with meaning.

Yennefer was no mood in for Nenneke's entitled attitude either. She glared back. "This is no ordinary situation and you know it. Kain means something to Ciri and Geralt, it also means you've got to try every available trick at your disposal – even if it means you fail."

"I'm not going to hasten his death and add to his suffering by using methods I know would fail."

"Then I should bring someone in that might be willing to try. There's a medic that I recently met named Shani. She'll most certainly be able to help us with some kind of suggestion."

Nenneke grunted softly. "I don't suppose that medic has a halfbreed elf blood of the correct type at her disposal? If not, then I ask you to let the boy go in peace. All you can do is lend the people you care about your moral support when it happens."

She was about to leave, then stopped herself and gave Yennefer another gauging look.

"Is it your disapproval of his newly found family that's lodged between you?"

Yennefer considered not answering, prepared to head toward the room she knew Kain was in. "No, it's not." She didn't care to elaborate. If Geralt didn't tell her, then she couldn't care to do it, either.

Ciri found Nenneke where she had expected, along with Yennefer. It was instantly clear whatever conversation had occurred between them was of the non-pleasant variety, but Ciri had no time to dwell on that.

"Kain needs you!" she told Nenneke, taking the older woman's arm and practically dragging her out. "Come on! We have to go!"

Nenneke hurried with Ciri, not questioning the urgency, though a part of her thought the poor child hoped she could save him now that he finally died.

He wasn't dead, but she estimated he could very well be soon if none of her potions worked. She examined him quickly, then went to the table where the potions were prepared in advance.

"We need to calm him to slow the heart and let the herbs work," she said, and shot a glance at Ciri. "Hold his head. We should try our best not to drown him."

Yennefer had jogged after the two and was standing in the corner of the room out of the way, watching as they worked and tended to Kain.

In their joined efforts Nenneke and Ciri carefully fed the potion to Kain. He coughed and spilled a lot, but about two-thirds of the vial - by Geralt's estimation - found its way in. Kain was shivering and breathing in quick, shallow gasps that took a while to slow.

"I'll bring more," Nenneke said, brandishing the empty vial. "Now we can only hope his body responds to it and allows us to do more."

She turned to leave and caught Geralt's eyes, her mien stern.

"You should sleep more, you still look like shit. I'll bring more tea."

She walked past Yennefer and out of the room, closing the door behind her gently, leaving the family alone for a bit.

Yennefer cringed within at their efforts. She wasn't close to Kain at any means, but to see him like that, the look of distress on both Geralt and Ciri's faces – it hurt her. She walked over to the opposite side of the room, to Geralt's side and placed a hand upon his shoulder, an attempt at comfort that was as foreign as it was uncharacteristic of their relationship. "Nenneke is right. Kain's fighting now – he'll begin to heal. You need to do yourself a favor and get some sleep. It's been a long battle. Ciri and I will keep a close eye."

Geralt thought of Visenna's hand when Yennefer's touched his shoulder, and swallowed, covered her hand with his own. "I'm not sure I can sleep right now."

Ciri remained at Kain's side, her hand clutching his, head lowered in prayer as the low buzz of her parents' conversation reached her. She didn't say anything. She knew Geralt needed his rest as well, but he was not in critical condition like his brother. Ciri would not argue with him to make him rest.

Yennefer fixated on the hand upon her own. The touch was minimal on the outside, but on the inside it made her heart sing.

He'd destroyed her.

She nodded, hardly thinking to argue the subject, her attention averting between the two while they waited on further responsiveness from Kain.

"Are you all going to stand guard here like the soldiers you're not?" Nenneke inquired, walking in with a teapot. Its nozzle was steaming.

She poured a mug and handed it to Geralt.

"Sit down and drink it," she instructed. "You need rest."

He shrugged, squeezed Yennefer's hand before letting go, and obeyed the priestess, settling down on his mattress.

Nenneke held another mug to Ciri. "You can't fool anyone but yourself, child - you need it, too."

"I have no intention of leaving his side," Ciri admitted, reluctantly accepting the mug and giving it a cautious sniff. "What is it?"

It didn't escape Yennefer that Nenneke hadn't offered her any tea. Not that she cared. Yennefer took a single step and moved to sit down on the mattress beside Geralt.

"A herbal tea, of course," Nenneke said. "What were you expecting, young lady? Some Erveluce? I bet that singing scoundrel's taught you nasty habits back in Novigrad. But here we use herbs. Drink, you'll feel better and sleep soundly. You can't help him if you're tired as you are."

She shot a sharp glance Yennefer's way as if expecting the mage to put in a word.

"Will it put me to sleep, is the question," Ciri murmured, eyeing Nenneke from under her lashes. She didn't want to sleep. Not now.

"You will have to try, Ciri," Nenneke said, stroking her hair. "We might need your help if he wakes, but you have to be rested. Please, try. Both of you have to." She looked between Geralt and his ward.

Geralt drank the tea, wincing from how hot it was. He felt dead tired, his head was beginning to pound again.

"He'll need help warming up," Nenneke muttered, tucking Kain in with furs and skins.

Yennefer said, "I can attest to the fact that Ciri got adequate sleep last night. Geralt, on the other hand,-"

"Worries drain people even after decent sleep," the priestess said.

"Even so. Ciri's a big girl now and can make her own decisions."

"There are no big decisions here," Nenneke scoffed, shooting a reprimanding look Yennefer's way. "Only rest for their own good. Facing the Crones is no joke, Yennefer. You of all people should know I'm not an enemy here."

Ciri took a sip of her tea to placate Nenneke, then put the mug on the table next to Kain's bed, laying down beside him with one arm draped over his body to help keep him warm.

"Your bickering isn't helping any," she murmured, a statement meant for Yennefer and Nenneke both. "Can't you at least pretend to get along?"

"If only it wouldn't be too much to expect not to be lectured on how to heal people," Nenneke grumbled, then pointed at the mug. "All of it, girl, or you'll be sleeping in your rightful room."

Ciri's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Are you going to make me? You and whose army?"

It sounded like a dare and a threat all wrapped up in one, and even Ciri found herself a tad surprised by the words she'd uttered. She would never have dared to do so in the past. Wouldn't even have wanted to.

Slowly, she sat up again and drained the contents of her cup before finding her rightful place beside Kain again.

Nenneke wasn't Ciri or Geralt's enemy, that was a sure fact, but she wasn't Yennefer's friend. They were acquaintances who'd had a grudging respect for one another and tolerated each other, at best.

"Now, now," Yennefer interjected politely, surprised by Ciri's vehemence. She'd never been rude to Nenneke before. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. All I was trying to say is that Ciri is old enough to decide what's good for her. I wasn't trying to demean your healing, Nenneke, or even disrespect it. You've done all you can thus far and I'm sure both Ciri and Geralt appreciate it."

Nenneke was looking at Ciri with both concern and wonder. That wasn't what she remembered the girl to be like. Had Yennefer's tuition bore that rotten fruit? Or was it that strange magic coursing through the girl's veins?

She took the empty mug in silence and prepared to leave.

"I don't mind your sitting with him, but the kind of warming he needs I'd rather one of our girls provided. It's not appropriate for you to play that role in the same room with your... with Geralt. I shall send a priestess with a gift."

Ciri could only imagine what that meant and the images Nenneke's words conjured made her skin flush hot with jealousy.

"Geralt can turn his back if the sight of me bothers him," she said determinedly, tightening her hold on Kain, her face buried in the crook of Kain's neck so she could inhale his familiar scent for a few selfish seconds.

When she resurfaced, she shifted beneath the covers draped over Kain and began to undress.

The bright memory of Iola's naked warmth against his body made Geralt wince in regards to Ciri's intention, but he had no reasons to object. He knew close to nothing of magic the priestesses used to heal that way, and even less of Ciri's abilities.

He sighed and lay back on his mattress, finally let his eyes shut for a moment. It was hard to focus on any thought as he was drifting away.

Nenneke shook her head, disapproving, but even her boisterous character needed a breather. Somehow the girl and the sorceress were quite a handful this time around. Perhaps even more so than the time before.

"Come, Yennefer," she said and went out.

Ciri dropped her clothes to the floor and pressed herself against Kain's body, arms wrapping around him beneath the covers to get the warmth back in him. Like before, she offered up her power to share, hoping Kain's healing instincts would eventually kick in and help him make it through. He had to. There was no other outcome acceptable in Ciri's mind.

Yennefer considered being difficult and letting Nenneke know in no uncertain terms she'd stay, but what was the point? Geralt had turned his back on Ciri's doings and Ciri was already pressed to Kain's side. There was an intimacy there, too.

"You know where to find me, if you need me," Yennefer said to the air, leaving it as an open interpretation to them all as she started out after Nenneke and headed for the room she shared with Ciri.

Nenneke came to her in half an hour with a tray. It had fried rabbit with vegetables and a pitcher of young wine on it.

"Least of all I wanted to quarrel with you," the priestess said, placing the tray on the table. "Neither of them needs to see it. I will repeat that again, Yennefer of Vengerberg: I'm not your enemy. I'm trying to help Geralt and Ciri. And Ciri..." Nenneke sighed. "She's changed."

"As am I, Priestess," Yennefer said, dropping the book she'd been reading into her lap, hardly sparing the food the woman had brought with her any consideration. "Yet, after all this time, your opinion of me has yet to soften. Is that because I didn't manage to keep my promise and keep her safe or because you continue to disapprove of me? You think I'm the reason for her change?"

"That I am no judge of," Nenneke said calmly, "for I have no knowledge about your time with her once you two left - nor while you were here. I'm sure there are lots of things I don't know about. I do disapprove of many things between you and Geralt, but they are none of my business. You and I merely have different views and experiences, and that is it."

Yennefer could agree with that. That had been her relationship with Nenneke as a whole. Different views. Different ways of handling things. She glanced down at the rabbit and vegetables.

"She has changed," Yennefer agreed, deciding to answer Nenneke's prior observation. "Ciri's become a woman. A young woman with confusing feelings, a lot of her own opinions, and even more suffering that she's had to deal with alone."

Nenneke nodded slowly. Even if she didn't know the whole story, it was clear the girl was unstable, and Geralt's brother couldn't be the only factor.

"Are they in love? Ciri and Kain?"

"I believe so," Yennefer mused. "He's probably her first."

Nenneke scowled in momentary dismay. It wasn't what Geralt said. "They lay together?"

Yennefer recognized the look on Nenneke's features and decided to forgo Ciri's truth. "No." Not _yet_. "They're just… close."

Nenneke's frown of pensive confusion deepened, but she asked no more. There was a lot to digest as it was - she had no chance to meditate on the story the Witcher had brought with him this time around. She was going to do just that - on her own.

"Won't be as good when it's cold," she said, pointing at the dinner, and left Yennefer's room.

Yennefer watched Nenneke go and reached for the plate, smiling somewhat, amused by the old woman's unnerving at the idea of Ciri and Kain together. Yennefer had to wonder if that was because of the familial relation to Geralt or because the idea of Ciri laying with a man was so far out of Nenneke's field of vision that she automatically hated to think about it. Nenneke wasn't one for holding her tongue when she thought something was wrong — her view would be revealed in time.

* * *

Ciri didn't sleep. She couldn't. Even if Nenneke's potion did its best to pull her under.

All her attention was on Kain's body pressed against her and the way his skin was warming. It felt good, that strange way her curves molded to his so perfectly. Like they were made for each other.

Only Kain didn't feel that way. He'd made it clear so many times. How would he react if he woke up entangled with Ciri like this? Would he be angry? Disgusted?

Any sign of rejection would surely hurt, but at the moment it didn't matter. Ciri didn't care that Kain might punish her by closing off or pulling away. Because at least he'd be alive to do so.

She tilted her head back a little so she could get a better look at the boy beside her. He looked younger than he was. Deceptively so. And the features that usually displayed mystery and cunning were now blank with nothing but vulnerability and innocence.

Men always looked like boys when they slept. Kain was no different.

Ciri knew that had he been awake, and willing, her lower abdomen would swirl with excitement. Jolts of desire would have made her heart race and her breathing shaky. And that familiar sweet ache between her thighs would have tormented her in the most delicious of ways.

But right now, things were very different. Ciri's heart was calm and her body had drained of tension of any kind. Though her hand shifted on Kain's body every now and then, it never strayed south, remaining in the region of his chest and shoulders, slowly stroking along his arms with a curious tenderness very few had experienced from her.

She moved to rest her forehead against his temple and whispered words of encouragement into Kain's ear, telling him to come back to her – to them – and that it was not yet his time to fade away. He was too bright a light to be extinguished so soon. She needed him.

It should have scared Ciri how quickly Kain had gone from a stranger to someone she could not imagine living without. It should have worried her greatly. In her mind's eye, she saw a matronly figure suspiciously similar to Nenneke lecture her on how unhealthy such attachments were.

But Ciri wasn't afraid. Not of this. Even with Kain teetering on the edge of death, Ciri didn't regret a thing. She didn't regret the emotions of love and jealousy and heartache... They were all worth it. Just to have known him. To have had him in her life.

With Kain in the world, Ciri was not alone.


	56. Chapter 56

When Geralt woke up, it was getting darker outside, and the first stars were beginning to twinkle in the gaps between the clouds that rapidly flowed through the sky. There had been jumbled dreams, a mixture of true memories and distorted events, but, to his relief, Geralt barely recalled anything.

Grunting, he lifted himself on an elbow and realized what woke him: Kain's breathing was getting quicker again. Ciri was hovering over him.

"I'll get Nenneke," he said, getting up.

Mother Nenneke came in a hurry, then commanded Geralt to turn away because Ciri sat up and couldn't keep covered while helping her. They fed more potion to Kain. He coughed and choked, but this time went a bit smoother than the previous one. While his breathing gradually slowed to more normal, Nenneke examined him and wiped the spilled potion from his chest and Ciri's lap.

"He's warmer and his pulse feels stronger," she said. "At least a little bit. There is hope."

Geralt sighed deeply, squeezing his fingers on the stony cold banister of the tiny balcony. He inhaled the chilly night air and let himself feel a bit relieved. A bit more hopeful.

"I shall arrange your dinner and send two priestesses to stay at your door for the night," Nenneke said. "I'm not all that young, anymore, and need my shuteye during the night. I will see you in the morn. And Ciri, it would be best if you spend the night in your own bed – so you actually sleep instead of marveling." She gave the girl a meaningful look that relayed that she couldn't be fooled by her young-heart business, then went for the door, all the empty vials and cups collected on the tray in her hands.

"Thank you," Geralt said.

"It's what I'm here for," she gave a small smile and walked out.

"She has a point," Geralt said when the door closed behind her. "You won't sleep well here, and you need to."

"I'm not leaving, so stop trying to make me," Ciri replied calmly, the covers pressed to her chest. "I will, however, put on a shirt if that makes you feel better."

"It's not about my comfort," Geralt said. "It's about your rest. Let the priestesses do their job and make it easier on yourself. And on me who worries about both of you."

"Geralt," Ciri said tiredly. "I said I've made up my mind. Stop worrying about me. I slept like the dead last night. I can miss a few hours tonight."

Geralt shook his head and went back to the balcony. He missed the time when she listened more.

Ciri reached for her shirt on the floor and pulled it on, buttoning it up. She slipped out of bed and made sure the furs were tucked around Kain's body. Then she joined Geralt out on the balcony.

"What's wrong? Other than the obvious?"

Geralt shrugged. "I wish I had a clear answer. I guess it's a lot of things at the same time... It's strange being here and feeling I'm missing something."

"Missing something?" Ciri asked as she leaned one elbow on the railing. "Like what?"

"Memories. Nenneke seems to know about Yennefer more than I do. But I get that feeling a lot wherever I go." He turned to her, peering with an inquiring squint. "Is there anything I need to know? About... this place?"

"Do you remember sending me here as a child? To be taught by Yennefer?" Ciri eyed him curiously, watching for any signs of recognition.

"I remember sending you here to hide and be taught... But not by Yennefer. I sent you here to her? Why?"

"The trances. My magic. You and the other witchers didn't know how to help me with that. So you and Triss brought me here. And you sent for Yennefer.

"While I waited for her to arrive, I attended lessons with the other novices here. When Yennefer came, my true training began. I eventually moved from the dormitories and into her rooms. We had lessons every day, ate together, slept together… She was even going to have me enrolled at Aretuza like a proper sorceress." Ciri paused. "But then the coup happened and everything – pardon my language – went to shit."

Geralt was looking at the field beyond the Temple's fences, frowning in thought. "I remember the trances, and Triss trying to help. I sent you here to hide from those who were hunting you, and... Triss was going to join you here..." He ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. "It's so strange to hear things I remember differently. How am I supposed to know what the real ones are? It makes my head ache."

He pushed away from the banister and returned into the room where a young priestess brought them a tray with dinner. He thanked her and poured them tea. Nenneke seemed to insist on keeping the wine and ale from them still.

"Ask," Ciri said once the priestess left. She took a seat on the edge of Kain's bed and accepted the cup Geralt handed her. "Ask whether it is real or not. Ask Yennefer. Or me. Dandelion, even. He knows more about you than most."

His mouth twitched in a brief ironic simper. "What kind of life is it when I have to doubt every memory I have? And asking means I hear a story as if about someone else."

"Have you any other clever ideas?" Ciri asked, nudging Geralt's leg with her foot. "It's a temporary solution only. Until we find a way to restore your memory."

"How would we do that? With more magic that would rearrange my brain? I'm tired of it being done to me on every corner. It's getting harder to cope." He handed her a plate and took another for himself. Fried rabbit with vegetables smelled delicious.

"It could wear off in time. We don't know for certain what that djinn did. It could be temporary." Ciri placed the plate on her lap, picking at the vegetables. "Or you'll find a way to trigger something in that memory of yours. Like a key to the lock holding all your experiences with Yennefer captive."

He watched her wistfully, chewing. "You really need me to remember that badly?"

"Is it such a silly thing for me to still carry that childhood dream? Of being with the two people who love me most, and have them love each other as well?" Ciri swallowed. It did feel a little silly when she voiced it out loud. It made her feel very small. Very young.

He sobered, forking his meal. "Of course it's not silly. It's just... me. I'm beginning to really hate magic. It scorns me way too often. Portals, mind control, magical hunters that want to take my daughter away, bleeding my brother dry... I'm just sick of it, is all." He sent another piece of rabbit in his mouth.

"Yes. I am not too fond of magic wielders myself these days," Ciri admitted, taking a bite of roasted carrot. "But I can't exactly escape it."

"You and Kain are ones, too," Geralt reasoned. "So is Mousesack." _So is Visenna_. He sipped his tea and smirked. "Not all mages are the same."

"That's what I mean when I say I can't escape it," she pointed out with a slight smile. "And no, we're not all the same. Thank the Gods for that. Imagine if everyone was like Vilgefortz."

The Witcher's face darkened. "Philippa thinks fondly of him. She told Kain he could be a new Vilgefortz. And Vilgefortz himself told me the same thing about my abilities before he almost killed me."

Ciri shook her head. "Neither of you have his sadistic tendencies. But there is no denying he was immensely powerful."

"So much so he couldn't be allowed to live," Geralt mused. "Had he been sent over to Aen Elle world, he would've destroyed them. He was their power-hunger equal in all senses. He belonged there rather than here."

"I don't think I would like him teaming up with Eredin," Ciri frowned. "I prefer him where he is now – dust to the wind."

He peered at her with a pensive frown. "Do you think there are others like him? Was he all that unique, after all?"

"Only unique in that he got so far with his plans. And in that he didn't want my child, but simply the blood of the unborn fetus. But his lust for power is not special at all."

"It's not his hunger for power that made him stand out, but the amount of power he had acquired. The amount of magic he was able to wield. If there are more mages like him in this world - that is a scary thought."

"Surely there has to be, or if not in our world, then some other," Ciri mused. "But not all can be murderers and rapists. Some might be healers." At the very least, Ciri hoped so. And how she would have liked to have one of those healers here right now to help Kain.

"That's hopeful," Geralt commented. "Though I doubt any mage of great power can or would be willing to hide for long."

"Why not?" Ciri asked. "I know power corrupts, but... there has to be someone out there of great magical talents who don't want to cause destruction and misery." Like Ciri herself. Though she wasn't sure she'd qualify as talented and powerful yet.

The Witcher didn't share her opinion and focused on finishing his dinner. Those priestesses assigned to cooking knew what they were doing.

When Ciri was finished, as well, he collected the plates on the tray.

"I'll take a walk. Don't do anything crazy while I'm gone."

"Are you worried I am going to take advantage of your unconscious brother?" Ciri arched a brow, climbing back beneath the covers next to Kain. "I am not that desperate. No need to worry."

"I do hope there's nothing to worry about where you're concerned," he smirked and went out the door.

* * *

One of the two priestesses sitting outside the room jumped off her chair and insisted on taking the tray back to the kitchen for him. Geralt didn't mind - he wanted to take a stroll through the gardens in the dark, hoping it could help vent his mind and get a night of better sleep.

It wasn't too dark for his eyes, and he navigated his way along the flowerbeds with no problem. He walked slowly, breathing in the chilly air, thinking about Visenna and her touch, the way she looked at him, and how something glistened on her cheek he hoped was a tear. He thought of how Kain's heartbeat quickened under his palm. He thought of how he felt about Kain's life slipping away from his and Ciri's. He thought of the urge he had to run away.

Who would he run to?

The closest comforting figure seemed to be Mother Nenneke. But it wasn't her image he recalled had flashed in his mind.

He stopped and looked at the sky, watching the clouds pass across the twinkling canopy, and wondered if at the same moment she was looking at the stars, too.

Then he thought of gemstones, a handful of them twinkling in the semi-dark, much like those stars. The image was so bright and real he peered down at his palm as if expecting to find the trinkets there.

_('They are... for her. For Yennefer.')_

_('You're more of a fool than I thought.')_

He slowly curled his fingers into a fist and cast a glance in the direction of the greenhouse. It was like trying to remember a bizarre dream upon waking from it. He sighed, rubbing his temples, pondering, then turned and went back to the Temple.

He knocked but didn't wait for her to answer and went in. Yennefer seemed to have just finished her dinner. Also a fried rabbit.

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, stepping toward her. "They give you wine. Only herbal tea for Ciri and me. I'll have to have a word with Nenneke tomorrow."

Yennefer was seated on her bed, knees bent, book propped against her thighs, the plate cradled beneath her chin while she read. She set it aside when the door opened, regarding it as it swung open to reveal Geralt. He was the last person she was expecting and for a second she'd worried something had happened – that maybe Kain had taken another turn or Ciri…

Deep down she knew it was irrational. Sadly she hadn't expected he'd come for her. Not unless there was some kind of plan that needed to be smoothed out.

"I guess she favors me more," Yennefer teased, taking a pointed sip of her wine before offering him the glass. "Go ahead, we'll keep it a secret between us."

Geralt smiled cunningly, accepting the glass, and raised it a tad toasting her. "A rebel, are you?" He drank and hummed, savoring the taste. The Temple's wine had always been exceptional: the priestesses knew how to spice it right.

"More like bad influence," Yennefer countered with a smile that matched his own.

She knew he'd been worried before and yet, for now, he was a bit more relaxed. She liked it, happy for the brief reprieve from their usual brood and mayhem.

"Should I ask the priestesses to bring a little more?"

"Better not tempt fate," he chuckled and finished his wine, then set the cup on her tray and focused on her. "Ciri tells me I asked you to train her here, which you did. But have you been here before that?"

She swung her legs off the bed and stood. "You did. You'd attempted to do such means with Triss first, but it didn't work out. We'd parted on bad terms and thus I was awarded option two." She wasn't going to hide those truths from him or gloss over them if she could help it. "As for my visits here, yes, I—I was searching for another means of fertility. Trying to do the impossible."

"So Nenneke stated," he murmured. "Though not all mages are infertile. If the priestesses here can't help it, there could be someone else who can."

"Depends on the preference of magic used. I've been told it isn't possible. Besides, I— I've found no need to keep looking after Ciri and I came together." And yet, the idea of having a child with Geralt held some real satisfaction. Even Istredd. At least there had been once upon a time. "I've checked every possible solution. Many. Even Golden dragons…"

"That I do remember," he said. "You've been... very determined."

"Very. Perhaps too much." She could say that now, but in the past, anyone talking out against it had agitated and offended her to no end. "It took some time to see that I already found what I was looking for." She met his eyes, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she meant Ciri—and himself.

The Witcher was oblivious to her hints while straining to dig around his memories. "Nenneke told me that a long time ago you two quarreled while you were here? What about?"

"The first time I came here or after dealing with Ciri?"

"Before Ciri. I... I'm trying to remember."

Yennefer's eyebrows drew down slightly. Why now was he trying to remember when the last few weeks he'd been taking it so slowly, practically shooting down any idea to revisit what he didn't know? If she had to guess, she'd assume it was tied to his brother. Geralt was really rattled.

"Nenneke doesn't think that I'm good enough for you. Or anyone. She just… it's a matter of her motherly affection. You two are close."

Geralt chortled and shook his head. "She made it a point to tell me she was not my mother, nor would she lend her shoulder to whine over..." He scowled, pondering, then gave a helpless shrug. "Seems like she meant whatever was between you and me. It's like someone else's life. I'm sorry."

"I'm sure she meant she didn't want to listen to you whine about me. She cares for you." Yennefer could say that much and not feel that she was overstepping a boundary set between the two women. They didn't see eye to eye, but they were both protective of the Witcher – and his Surprise. For that Yennefer could never fault Nenneke. The apologies and look of failure in his eyes made it harder. She didn't want to make him feel as if he owed her. "Why the change and want to dig a bit into the memory bank? Your worry for Kain stirring up… _feelings_?"

"No, Kain has nothing to do with it. I… I remembered something." He squinted pensively, eyeballing her. "I was here after the striga, recovering, and I had jewels – payment for the work done. I wanted Nenneke to give them to you when you came back here, but she refused. Called me a fool and said you… would be furious. Even more furious than, as Nenneke stated, I made you. What have I done to you, Yennefer? Why were you so mad at me?"

Nenneke hadn't given her those jewels, and she'd been right, Yennefer would have been angry. Their relationship was worth more than that. Had he really thought their relationship could be bought? That a couple of jewels would have made up for what he'd done? She couldn't even be mad at him, couldn't reason his logic or why he thought that's what she would have preferred instead of him trying to talk to her.

"Because you left me. We were living together, had started a life together… I suppose, it wasn't for you and you decided… without telling me… to leave."

The Witcher stilled, staring at her in shock. Not a part of his mind could fathom this to be true. He racked his memory in a desperate attempt to come up with at least the faintest sense of this truth - anything at all - and couldn't.

He swallowed, his mouth was dry. "When... when was it? How... could it have been?"

"Years ago," Yennefer said automatically, studying his reaction, the look on his face one that confused and fascinated her. Why had he looked so upset? "What do you mean? What could it have been?"

"You're a fierce and independent sorceress that likes to be alone, and I'm a witcher made to serve while forgoing any personal matters. How could we have ended up living together?"

"Neither of us planned to move in together. It just happened. One day turned into a week, a week turned into months, and the next thing you know a whole year had gone by."

He gaped. "A year? What were we doing for a year?" A small smirk swept over his mouth as he added, "Well, aside from the obvious."

"Aside from the obvious," Yennefer mused with an equal twitching of her lips. "We lived. You worked, I patched you up. I worked, you got impeccably bored. We attended gatherings, stayed in multiple inns in our travels, had disagreements, made up, disagreed some more, and contentedly went about our days together. I even taught you how to appreciate eating with a knife and fork."

The Witcher chortled, "I surely was no savage and was brought up in no cave." He sobered a bit, reflecting a moment on what she said. It sounded so surreal, and yet so darn cozy. The kind he never thought possible for himself. None of it sounded possible for his kind to achieve.

He looked up at her. "Why did it end?"

Yennefer glanced at the floor and decided to sit on the edge of the bed again. Her jest was over and she no longer craved the wine.

"I don't know. You left one day without a word and that was that. You never bothered to elaborate on the why." She met his gaze. "Why do you think that is?"

For the first time he remembered, Geralt felt it was hard to hold her stare. He felt naked and guilty under the cold, violet light of her scrutiny. Worse was he had no answer. He shook his head and lowered to sit on the edge of her bed. "I wish I knew."

In the back of his mind, two voices disputed in raised tones.

(_'She treated me like—'_

_'Stop it. Don't cry on my shoulder. I'm not your mother._')

He stared at her with a sort of growing astonishment as the sense of it began to dawn on him. "How come you're here? Have you forgiven me?"

"I don't think I ever truly can. I don't know what went wrong. What I did," Yennefer added honestly. "But I have moved on. We both have. And I continue to love you."

Even with struggling to forgive - which was fully in the image of her he remembered - her statement about love astonished him. He shifted closer to her like in a dream, a little lightheaded. "Why do you love me? After everything?"

"I love you because even though Ciri was your Surprise, you didn't bat an eye when I started calling her daughter. Thereby giving me the gift I always sought. I love that you loved me, even though others told us it wouldn't last and I wasn't the easiest person to live with, or that we were incapable of such emotions. I love you because, even when I had doubts about the sincerity of our relationship, our love, you didn't. You've always known. You never said it out loud — not for the longest time — but when you did, it was the most natural thing in the world and I didn't hesitate to say it back. Sadly, that made it all the more real and it terrified me," she could admit it to him now and understand why she'd needed that djinn later. She could never be fully invested if she didn't know the truth of their ardent connection. "I love you because, despite that, you never hesitated for a second and your every action toward me – most – spoke only of how deeply you cared for me—"

Yennefer touched a hand to the side of his face, gently stroking his chin as if to soothe what she feared might be a desire to make a run for it.

"Even when my own were never as easily interpreted."

Something moved in his soul while he listened to her, mesmerized by what she said and how her eyes searched his, how vulnerable she made herself before him without hoping to get the same in return.

He had experienced something similar before - with Triss, and even Fringilla. But with Yennefer it was something simultaneously new and familiar. Something that felt unique in its impossibility. Something truly magical.

He cupped her cheek, leaning in, and kissed her.

Her eyes closed, her hand finding its way from his face to lose itself in his hair, cupping the back of his neck as she returned his kiss.

She'd been pleasantly surprised, convinced without peeking into his thinking that he'd have considered running during that admission.

Yennefer didn't push for more, letting him take the lead.

He shifted closer without breaking the kiss, his other hand snaking around her waist while his mouth hungrily indulged in hers. Her scent, so mind-blowing, took over his senses and made him dizzy with something he couldn't decipher. He felt the same way he had on the balcony in his room when he was eager to run and take comfort in her presence. And now she was right here, and he was relieved she was. He didn't for the life of him know why, but he was.

He knew, however, that he had to give her something in return. He went for the clearest truth he could muster at this moment.

"I need you," he whispered against her mouth while she took in a breath. Then he pulled her onto his lap, burying his face against her neck where her silky hair enveloped him in her fragrance of lilac and gooseberries.

Yennefer needed him, too. Her body yearned for him, crying at the loss of what she knew was out of her reach, what despite his lack of returning affections had given her hope for.

Reunion.

Her hand slid from his neck to his shoulders, skimming over the muscle, the material he was wearing falling away like liquid, dripping to the floor at his feet where it reappeared as a discarded bundle. She repeated the method with her own clothes to save time should some unfortunate and helpful priestess decide to interrupt.

He wasn't going to get away from her just yet.

Yennefer ground down onto his lap gently, reveling in their body heat, her right hand shifting between her thighs to take a hold of his cock, working him to a steady hardness.

Jolts of desire zinged through his nerves making him shiver at every slide of her palm. His breathing was ragged, and he couldn't get his eyes off hers. There was something in that cold violet spark in her gaze that made him insane with need and hunger. Like the warmth of her body and the scent of her skin was the solution to everything.

At this moment, it truly was.

It felt that way, and he could not contain his need any longer.

His mouth claimed an ardent kiss as he flopped her onto her back beneath him and pushed in, lavishing her neck with nips and kisses.

Blood was flushing in his ears and she was his whole world.

Yennefer's right leg wrapped around Geralt's waist, her other foot caressing the back of his calf, her arms moving from his shoulders to explore his body, to hold him close, to have him as deeply in her as imaginable.

As the pleasure intensified, she clawed his back, mollifying the abuse when their kisses broke, pressing her lips to any available skin, murmuring his name over and over in a way she'd never allowed herself to before.

Worshipping, loving, and frantic. Desperate for him – no one but him.

The pleasure was building and grew so wildly it dimmed Geralt's mind. Her scent filled his senses that pulsed and throbbed with need for her, body and soul, violet sparks took off inside his head and in front of his eyes when he closed them, absorbing every bit of their ecstasy bordering on pain. Her voice, cracked and husky in her passion, called his name and Geralt felt home.

He felt happy.

When their apex stormed through them in its blinding glory, he felt at peace.

Yennefer had felt as at peace once the aftermath of their 'lovemaking' hummed through her.

She moved to claim her place in the crook of his arm, her head resting on his shoulder, her index and middle fingers stroking at his chin affectionately. She'd said so much before – and during – that for now, she had no idea what to say and found herself at a loss for anything.

He'd come to her—and in her quite literally—and all was as it was supposed to be, but she also knew it was temporary. Geralt still didn't know the extent of their history and despite the apparent shift in their dynamic at present, he could still easily run the other direction if she pushed too hard or became too eager.

"Try to get some rest," Yennefer said, her voice soft, breathy and encouraging. "If we're fortunate, come morning, we can reexamine the physical part of our conversation."

"Hmm," he smiled, his eyes closed as his muscles hummed with delicious relaxation. He wanted to stay. He truly did. There was one significant 'but'. "I'll have to return. If anything happens... Ciri can't be left alone to deal with it. And she refuses to come back here."

Yennefer should have remembered that particular thought, but for a moment—a long one—she'd been greedy and reluctant to burst the bubble.

"Understandable. She's worried. You both are."

Yennefer lightly rolled from the space she'd taken in his arm, shifting so that he was free to get to his feet when he was ready and stretched out beside him.

"Is there anything I can do?" Yennefer asked, smirking slightly. "Anything else?"

He turned to look at her and admired the gentle blush on her cheeks and the shine of her eyes. "Patience," he murmured. "Both Ciri and I require lots of patience, it seems."

"Patience is not one of the virtues I've accomplished when it comes to what I want," she answered, smiling within his direction. "I'll do my best."

* * *

When Geralt returned to his door, the priestesses on their watch duty informed him of having fed more potion to Kain. Geralt felt a subtle pang of guilt for not having been with Ciri when it happened, and went in.

Ciri wasn't asleep. Kain seemed to be the same, only now - if he looked closer - the Witcher could actually see he was breathing.

"You should get some sleep, Ciri," he said, toeing off his boots.

Ciri turned to look at him, hiding a smile at the sight of Geralt's ruffled hair. "I will."

She was getting tired, the warmth of Kain's bed having steadily made her relax and embrace the possibility of sleep.

He studied her for a moment, then lay down on his mattress. He closed his eyes, thought of Yennefer and how her eyes glowed...

He slept.

* * *

He didn't immediately realize what pulled him from slumber, but when he sat up, rubbing his eyes, he met Kain's confused gaze. Ciri was stirring next to him, and Kain, blinking sleepily, looked between them with a mute question.

"Feels like I missed more than I'd like," he muttered.

Geralt chuckled despite the worry. "How you feeling?"

"Like I can't wake up." He turned to meet Ciri's stare. His face flushed in more confusion. "You're... Are you naked?" He glanced to Geralt, baffled. "What did I miss?"

Geralt merely shook his head, amused and relieved.

It took Ciri a few long seconds as she woke to realize Kain, too, had awakened; that his eyes were open and that he was talking. Her whole being instantly filled with elation. The shame she usually would have felt at being caught in such a compromising position was non-existent.

"For warmth," she assured him, sitting up and cradling the covers to her chest. "Not for any lecherous reasons. Are you in pain?"

Kain considered it briefly. "No, just... tired. I could sleep for another year and it's alarming. I..." He strained to sit, but couldn't manage right away. "I need to get up..."

"No, you don't," Geralt argued, pressing a palm to Kain's chest to keep him down. "Not just yet. Some more herbs and potions, some red wine and a few meals, and then you'll get there."

Kain scowled. "I can't take any potions before I let any out." He perked up an eyebrow meaningfully.

Geralt smirked and nodded to Ciri, "Go look if Yen's up yet. And see about our breakfast."

Having no particular need to stay for that task, Ciri didn't argue. She slipped into her shirt, gathered her trousers and boots, and walked out a minute later.

She found Yennefer in bed and bounded to join her, jumping up on the mattress and landing on her knees beside the sorceress. "My prayers were answered," she declared, pushing Yennefer's hair from her face. "Kain is awake!"

Yennefer's swept upward as if on the smallest of wave and seconds later she was groggily staring into bright green eyes. "That's fantastic."

She stretched lazily, shifting upon the small mattress to make space for Ciri beside her. Unlike the inns that catered for two people at a time, mother Nenneke had a tendency of making sure her rules about intimacy were adhered to as much as possible, and by any uncomfortable means possible.

"I'm surprised you've let him out of your sight. Have you slept?"

"He needed some privacy. I suppose there are certain things I am not ready to see yet," Ciri giggled, curling up next to Yennefer, head on the sorceress' shoulder. "I did sleep. Peacefully even." Ciri always did when next to Kain. Unless Eredin decided to interrupt. But he hadn't been in Ciri's dreams for quite some time. "And you? Are you alright?"

Yennefer enjoyed the sound of Ciri's giggle and the warmth of her slight frame pressed to her side, her cheek resting against Ciri hair.

"Couldn't be better," Yennefer replied. And she did feel good. The afterglow of the conversation and the night's act before and just being able to share a quiet moment with her daughter. "What about Geralt? He must be relieved about Kain as well."

"He did seem relieved. Also eager to send me on my way," Ciri smirked. "I think he was worried I'd see Kain's boy-bits."

"He doesn't approve of your infatuation with Kain?"

"Infatuation?" Ciri frowned. She didn't like that word. It made her sound crazy. "I don't think he minds I care for Kain. He'd just rather not think of me in any, well, sexual scenario."

"That's a relief," Yennefer added, hugging Ciri a little tighter to her side before rolling off the mattress to stretch her legs. She needed to make use of a chamber pot, and then find some juice. Anything sweet…

Ciri got up as well, taking the time to tie her boots since she hadn't on the way there.

"I'll go see if there is any breakfast in the works. Geralt requested it and Kain probably needs something to help him regain his strength."

"Good idea," Yennefer agreed, peering out the window to gauge the weather. "I'll make myself more presentable and join you in a little bit."


	57. Chapter 57

**_~WRITERS' NOTE:_**

**_We're happy to see you're well, _RedHood001_! We've been slightly worried. And yes, Visenna is always a mystery, and of course she is important. Even though she's never been there physically in Geralt's life, she's one of the most vital parts of his inner world. A lot of unresolved issues there._**

**_Thank_****_ you, _grotesk_, for your reviews! It makes us happy you're gaining so many good emotions! Geralt and his relationship with Visenna is one of the most important in his long life, and it's had too little 'screen time' both in books and show. As for Kain, Geralt was rather used to what he remembered of him from the school, and only now he had that bright realization that it's not just a witcher sidekick and friend but his true blood brother. It's not something Geralt is accustomed to. And, oh, Nenneke! We do love her a lot. She can be pushy about her Temple's customs, but even so she does respect Yennefer and her input in Ciri and Geralt's lives, despite all the things the two women disagree on._**

**_Thank_****_ you, _MoreBonesPlz_, for your reviews! As you so wisely noticed, with Geralt's current condition, it's the little treasures and moments that matter most. When Ciri and Geralt discuss their dislike for mages, neither of them means Yennefer, but rather mages that usually scorn them. Both Ciri and Geralt had their times of trouble brought about by mages, and even Yennefer has scorned Geralt back in their first meeting with her vindictive show performed at his expense._**

**_Dear_** **queenswick_, we thank you for your kind words and appraisal of this story. We're happy it's to your liking and that you're waiting for new chapters impatiently. It means the world to us! We hope you continue to enjoy it!_**

**_Thank_****_ you so much, dear readers! We love every feedback you give and we hope to not disappoint you! See you all on the pages! Be safe ~_**

* * *

By the time Ciri returned, Nenneke was already there, an empty vial from the potion in her hand.

"I'll send the meals," she said. "And then more rest. No other way to recover, and I will hear no arguments."

Kain opened his mouth, but, upon catching Geralt's look, he changed his mind. Nenneke seemed satisfied.

"You gave us too little hope, young witcher, and now it's important to be careful and not overstrain."

The witcher brothers were silent, Kain didn't look happy about the rules.

"Ciri," Mother Nenneke greeted. "I hope you understand your nightly shifts here are over, and you shall catch up on your own rest."

Expecting no resistance, Nenneke left to take care of the breakfast.

Kain groaned. "I'd rather be dead."

"That's rather rude," Ciri commented, arms folded over her chest as she regarded him. "Considering how hard we've been fighting to keep you alive."

"It was so stupid to get caught," he said wearily. "Stupidity of that proportion doesn't deserve to live. I'm sorry you had to save me."

"You're not a god, Kain," said Geralt. "None of us is."

"And yet..."

"She was prepared better than we were. We should've known better."

Ciri took a seat on the edge of Kain's bed, examining him closely. "What happened? We found Vesemir's medallion. And yours."

Kain's had already been placed around his neck. Ciri kept Vesemir's.

"I noticed something gleaming in one of the pools. I guess it was Vesemir's medallion. I reached for it, and then... I don't know. I guess another drowner attacked me, pushed me into the pool and there was no bottom anymore. My sword got stuck in the drowner, and it could've ripped the medallion off me before it died." His hand crept for the Cat necklace. "I ran out of air and refused to draw power from the swamp - it was all poisoned by her magic. I didn't think dying was worse than letting her filth in. I wasn't sure how it would end. She used it against me, as we all know." He glanced over the scar stretching along his forearm down to his wrist.

"You didn't have to count solely on yourself," Geralt said. "You had us."

Ciri's heart skipped a beat as Kain explained about his misfortunes in the swamp, but she quickly pushed the more unpleasant facts aside. They weren't important.

"Geralt's right," she said. "We found you. You're not alone anymore."

"My presence made things worse than they could've been," Kain stated. "She tried to bring her sisters back. She might not have succeeded without me. How did you stop her? Or them?"

"We tracked your blood to their dimension, and Yennefer and I managed to get you away while Geralt stayed behind to fight them. All three of them." Ciri watched the Witcher with admiration in her eyes.

"They were all weaker than they could've been," Geralt explained. "Probably because the Crone gave them the major share of her magic along with your blood. None of them was at her full power, but even then they kicked my behind. If not for Ciri..."

Kain snapped his eyes open to flick them from Geralt to Ciri. "What did you do?"

Ciri folded her arms across her chest. For some strange reason, she didn't want to tell him. And she couldn't quite explain why.

"I destroyed their dimension with the Crones still in it. Got Geralt out at the last moment."

Kain blinked, astonished. "How?"

"Remember the man who shot you last time we were in Velen? Like that," Ciri said, eyes on her feet. "Only... stronger. I was angry. That helped."

Frowning, Kain was trying to digest it. "You... made their dimension implode on itself? And kept your control while doing it? Without Avallac'h? Or Yennefer helped you?"

"Yennefer stayed with you," Geralt said, his own brow furrowing subtly: Kain's reaction made him wary. As if there was a catch he wasn't seeing.

Ciri shrugged. "Seems like. Got Geralt out. Then brought you and Yennefer here so we could get help from Nenneke."

Ciri's response - or rather her reluctance to indulge him - was strange, but Kain felt too tired to dig in and torture her about it. Geralt didn't seem any more inclined to analyze the Crones' defeat.

"Thank you for saving my life," Kain said, letting his eyes close. "Even though I'm a bed prisoner now."

"Strange how you've never seemed sympathetic when I've been put on bedrest," Ciri smirked. "Maybe that will change from now on."

The mischievous look faded from Ciri's features to give way to the genuine relief she felt at having him awake and talking. So much better than he had been the night before.

"I'm glad you are alright."

Kain's lips twitched in the subtlest of smiles while his eyes remained closed. "I'll be much better as soon as I can escape this room."

"Not now, though," Nenneke said, walking in. Another priestess came after her carrying a tray with bowls for Geralt and Ciri. Nenneke sat down on the bed with a bowl for Kain.

"Come on, Cat Witcher, you have to eat."

He winced but didn't try to fight her. He recalled very well how useless any resistance was when Nenneke was involved.

Ciri stepped away from the bed to allow Nenneke to do her work, intending to bring her own bowl out to the balcony but pausing before she could do so.

"Did you bring enough for Yennefer? Or shall I go fetch some?"

Nenneke scoffed softly, sending a spoonful into Kain's reluctant mouth. "Of course, I sent a girl her way. Though you can go and make sure your sorceress isn't starving."

"She said she would join us, so I am certain she will." Ciri still didn't like Nenneke's tone when it came to Yennefer, but there didn't seem to be much she could do about it.

She stepped out onto the balcony with her breakfast, greeting the early morning sun.

"This is not an appropriate time for gatherings," Nenneke reprimanded. "He needs more rest, and you all can find yourselves plenty of other places to be while he does."

Geralt rolled his eyes subtly but said nothing. Both brothers felt it was futile.

"Kain has been up against worse in the last day than a little lack of rest, Nenneke," Yennefer said as she entered the room, the bowl a priestess had delivered in hand. "Let them celebrate."

Her eyes came to rest on the younger witcher with silent appraisal, ignoring Nenneke's sharp look of annoyance or the fact that of all the bodies within his recovery space she was probably the least welcome.

"How are you feeling, Kain?"

"I feel tired and still alive," Kain responded.

"It's too early to celebrate anything," Nenneke said, scooping another spoon of the stew. "Just a few more," she murmured encouragingly, then shot Yennefer a disapproving look. "You can leave your empty bowl on the table, I'll take it away. Now, it's not a ballroom, but a place to recover. Everyone who's not supposed to be here should leave."

Smiling, Geralt stood up to put his bowl on the tray. "Don't worry, they're leaving."

"It's not I who should worry," she said, another spoon fed and she decided to spare the half-blood whatever remained of the stew. "More sleep now. You'll feel better next time you wake."

"Thanks," Kain said and shifted more comfortably.

Was Nenneke always this bossy?

Ciri looked out at the temple grounds before her with a thoughtful expression, idly stirring her food with a spoon. It didn't taste as good as food usually did. It was bland and dull. But somehow it felt like that had nothing to do with the cook's talents. Everyone else was enjoying their meals just fine.

She'd pushed her earlier reluctance aside as concern for Kain, but now he was awake...

Maybe her palate was changing? Maybe it was part of growing up and becoming a woman? The sorceresses – Yennefer excluded – hardly ever ate. At least in public.

Ciri sighed and turned back to the room, her bowl balancing on the railing of the balcony. "Should we contact Novigrad to make certain everything is alright there?" They'd been gone for a few days already.

"It wouldn't be amiss to try," Geralt agreed. "The only one of us with the means to do so is Yennefer."

"You will do it elsewhere," Nenneke said, taking the tray, and ushered them from the room. "Out. Let him rest."

The bowl that Yennefer was holding wasn't empty, she hadn't touched the food within, she'd merely carried it from the hall where a priestess had given it to her after she'd stepped from the room to this one. Yennefer had said she'd eat breakfast with Ciri and Geralt and that's what she'd intended to do. Nenneke, however, was in full brood mode, spoon-feeding Kain and nagging. She'd have smiled at the ludicrousness of it all but she didn't have the want.

"As you wish, Lady Nenneke," Yennefer said, tipping her head as if they were in fact in a ballroom and exchanging pleasantries. "Be well, Kain, and safe return from thy slumberous darkness."

Her gaze shifted pointedly toward Geralt and Ciri and then she whirled around and headed out, moving in search of a bench she knew was in the gardens outside so she could eat. She'd contact Triss after.

Ciri threw one last longing look Kain's way, then followed Yennefer outside. Geralt appeared close on their heels.

They settled out in the garden, though Ciri barely sat for a few seconds before getting to her feet again, restless and reluctant to remain passive.

"I can't wait to be out of here."

"Why is that?" Geralt asked. "I know Nenneke had nearly no time to share with you and catch up, but now that he feels better..."

Yennefer wasn't as confused by Ciri's want to leave – not entirely. Nenneke and Ciri had always got on, but they were both equally stubborn, and a lot had changed since the last time they'd seen one another. Ciri was no longer a child. She harbored her own views and ways of looking at things and more importantly, she'd developed feelings for Kain and probably wanted to be the one to take care of him.

Yennefer would have been as prickly had Nenneke thought to physically step between herself and Geralt, too.

She decided to save Ciri the need to explain herself.

"Does it really matter? We can't afford to stay here a week anyway. The lodge will not sit around waiting for us and can guarantee they're already plotting their next demands."

"I won't move until Kain is fully well," Geralt said, strolling slowly in front of the bench Yennefer sat on. "If you wish to depart immediately, I won't stop you. But I thought we all could use a short break. This place is better than most for it."

"Of course we'll wait until he's healed," Ciri said, looking out over the garden. "I'm not much eager to get back to the Lodge, either." Bossy women all around. "But the longer we stay the more likely an attack will happen upon the temple."

The Witcher regarded her, frowning. "Why? The Crones are dead, and you have your dimeritium bracelet, don't you? How would they track you now?"

Ciri knew more about the Wild Hunt, so Yennefer hadn't bothered to interfere on that particular subject. "But Kain, if able, can rest up the same anywhere else, Geralt. Like Dandelion's inn. I've no want to deal with the Lodge longer than is necessary myself, but, they are a capricious bunch and we can't allow their demands to surge. We need them."

Ciri shrugged in regards to Geralt's question. "It wouldn't surprise me if they found a way. Nor if Emhyr goes back on his word. He can't be trusted. None of them can."

"We can't live in constant fear," argued Geralt. "It's exactly what the Hunters want. As for Emhyr, I don't suppose he'll try to sabotage the Lodge now - he already got a lot from you over those pardons. He's not a fool, he knows when he can press and when it's too much."

"Does he?" Ciri wasn't convinced. And a small voice inside her head was encouraging her to end her enemies once and for all before they could bring more harm.

The Hunt, Emhyr, The Lodge... All of them.

She reluctantly pushed the thought aside and brushed her hair away from her face. "It is rather beautiful here," she admitted, admiring the garden again. "Too many rules, but beautiful."

"She's not eager to judge and put up rules as you think," Geralt smiled subtly. "She's just not used to you being all grown. Give her a bit of time. It'll change."

Ciri eyed Geralt skeptically, even though as of late he and Yennefer had been quite good at letting Ciri make her own decisions. "Perhaps. It just feels strange still. Having people that care. It's a little overwhelming at times."

"We'll always care about you, Ciri," he said. "So will Nenneke. You were like a daughter to her, too. She's strict and straight-forward, don't hold it against her. She means well. Though you know it."

"Geralt's right. Nenneke has only ever wanted the best for you."

Which is why when Yennefer used to live on temple grounds they'd fought so much. Nenneke had nitpicked at a lot of the sorceress's methods. Unlike criticism that came from others that she ignored, Yennefer had taken it to heart, going so far as to take a break from Ciri for about a week to examine what the older woman was seeing and what she herself might have missed her teachings. Yennefer eventually concluded that it only had to do with magic and eventually they moved on.

"Even if her views are a tad more… inflexible than our own."

"And don't think I'm not grateful." Ciri was, very much so. But it was still hard to know everyone she cared about seemed to have such different expectations of her. Especially when she wasn't sure she would be able to fulfill any of them. "Shall we send a message to Novigrad?"

Yennefer took a few spoonfuls of her breakfast and then set the bowl down in her lap. "As soon as I know what you'd like me to tell them."

"Ask them if everything is as when we left them. If everyone is alright," Ciri decided quietly, setting her gaze on Yennefer. She was curious to see how the sorceress would complete this task.

"Fair," Yennefer mused, waiting on Geralt's input. He might want to send a message of some kind to Dandelion. She handed Ciri her partially eaten breakfast and got to her feet, heading in search of parchment and a quill from one of the priestesses with which to send the message.

Geralt watched the sorceress saunter away, her hips swaying, curls spilt over her shoulders bouncing slightly, then turned to Ciri with an assessing eye.

"Have you slept better?"

"In general, yes," Ciri admitted, shifting her gaze from the disappearing Yennefer and back to Geralt. She put the sorceress's half-empty bowl down on the ground. "Last Eredin entered my dreams, I managed to push him out."

Ciri sometimes wondered if she should try again. Forgo the potions Yennefer made for her simply to see if the elven king would be there when she fell asleep. And if she was better equipped at keeping him out on her own. She'd managed to kill the Crones. Why not him?

He peered at her with both amazement and wariness. "Pushed him out? With magic?"

"Or mental effort. I'm not sure exactly." Ciri sat down, pulling one leg up on the seat with her. "He's always been very clear about them being _my_ dreams. He enters mine, not the other way around. So perhaps I have always had the power to push him out. I just didn't know."

"It's possible," he shrugged. "It seems you haven't quite scratched even the whole surface of what you can do."

"I suppose." That's what Avallac'h had always said. Or something similar. But Ciri hadn't been able to imagine herself as powerful then. Not truly. "And you?" she asked, her face suddenly alight with mischief. "Did you have a nice walk last night?"

His lips twitched ever so slightly. "It's good to walk before bed. Improves the sleep."

"Yes, I've heard it has those benefits," Ciri snickered.

She'd practically smelled the sex on Geralt when he walked into Kain's room the night before. That probably should have been disconcerting. But considering Ciri assumed Yennefer had been involved, the girl felt nothing but hopeful elation.

"And here I thought you wouldn't do anything to push Nenneke's boundaries."

"I pushed no boundaries," he said, smiling serenely. "I merely took a walk."

* * *

As soon as asked, one of the novices scampered off to find paper. Yennefer didn't have to wait long before the priestess returned and found a flat surface, beginning to scrawl her message to Triss.

_'__Dearest Triss,_

_Due to unforeseen happenings during Witcher business. Kain was hurt. Gratefully, due to the quick thinking of getting him to Nenneke's temple, he is on the mend and resting. However, Geralt, Ciri, and I will remain with him until he is able to travel, by either horse or portal._

_My estimation is two days._

_My hope, in the meantime, is that you placate the Lodge as I'm sure by now they must tire of the menial task of charity and assistance at the academy. Our war is not forgotten, nor is their promise._

_Or your oath._

_Sincerely your friend,_

_Yennefer'_

She read it over once more to make sure it was clear, blew on the sheet of paper to dry the ink and then carefully folded it, chanting softly as she did, until eventually, it disappeared from her palm. Satisfied that the message was delivered, she headed back outside.

* * *

"Mhmm," Ciri smiled knowingly. Yennefer would be far more forthcoming with details, but Ciri didn't blame Geralt. "While we are here, you should take the time for some more... walks. It'll do you good."

Ciri made an effort to wipe the smile off her face when she saw Yennefer heading back towards them. "Is it done?"

"It is," Yennefer replied, observant of the smile that had been on Ciri's face as she approached. "I miss anything of importance?"

"Hardly," Geralt said. "Nothing important happens here unless something's brewing in the nearby towns. At the moment, it's just enjoying fresh air and some peace for us."

"Well, now you've cursed us," Ciri declared, though she sounded anything but cross. "Don't you know? As soon as someone declares we have peace, something bad is bound to happen."

She grinned and got to her feet, gesturing for Yennefer to take Ciri's abandoned seat on the bench next to Geralt.

"But, while we do have that peace..." Ciri was hoping Geralt and Yennefer would make the best of it between themselves, without involvement from Triss and the other sorceresses.

Yennefer accepted the seat beside Geralt, crossing her legs as she sat down, smiling her thanks at Ciri.

"We should make the best of it," she agreed, concluding what she thought was the end of Ciri's sentence. "Reasonable advice. At least it could be. This Crones killing mission of yours wasn't on our agenda before. Are there any other missions intended that I should be aware of?"

"Next stop was going to be Skellige," Geralt said. "But given the Hunt's attack of Oxenfurt, we'll have to take a bit of time to see if they pull off something equally destructive before people recovered. It's not too far from their nature."

"You think they'll attack the same location twice? While we're weak?" Ciri asked. It was a good strategy if damage was what they were looking to wreak.

"The only one that can give us a real answer on that is you, Ciri," Yennefer stated. "You've a better grasp of their patterns of attack, while we can only assume or estimate the usual strategies of war. What's your feel?"

"They never attacked cities before unless I was in them. Unless they thought I was hiding there," Ciri said.

"Now they aim to make you surrender," said Geralt. "By hurting as many as they can get to."

"Wasn't that their intention since they began chasing her?" Yennefer asked, piercing a look at Geralt. "That's not much of a change in approach."

"You mean they attacked her world to make her feel guilty before?" the Witcher perked up an eyebrow. "They were merely chasing her, and there were casualties among the few unfortunates who happened in their way. Nothing as big as a city assault."

"They're getting cleverer, that's for certain. Trying to see things from my perspective," Ciri commented. "Think like your prey and all that."

"Then Geralt and I should consider going back as soon as we can. Oxenfurt can't withstand another attack and it might be best if we try to convince the students to leave. We have time to try and get them to a safe place."

"We cannot convince people to leave their homes," Geralt reasoned. "Just like we have failed with Novigrad citizens. Besides, they're not the ones to attack where they're expected, as we have found out."

"Didn't you just say you had the thought that they'd attack at the same place again?" Yennefer inquired. "Are we not talking about Oxenfurt? That was their last place. Ciri's energy is stronger there."

The Witcher shrugged. "They could go to Novigrad this time - now that people there might think the danger's passed. Or they could decide on Vizima, or some small villages - one by one. Or Skellige - Ciri's traces might be everywhere. Thing is, we have no clue and no way of knowing. Avallac'h might. And I wouldn't expect him to tell us anything without being asked."

"So, we will ask him next we see him. If he is still in Novigrad, that is," Ciri said. "Might have gone back to Skellige again."

"Perhaps," Yennefer began, no longer interested in speculating. "You should reach out and contact him. We don't really have much time to waste."

"That's what ends the peace," Geralt sighed and got up from the bench. "Ciri was right, we jinxed it."

"If only that was really the case," Yennefer commented as Geralt stood. Only their trouble hadn't been over, and wouldn't be over until they'd fully taken care of The Hunt. "Going to check on Kain?"

"Among other things," he said and started away at a languid pace, enjoying the garden.

"You should go with him," Ciri urged Yennefer in a whisper. "Spend some time together now there is no one here to sway his attention."

"I'm surprised you're not going with him," Yennefer stated, a knowing smile twisted onto her mouth. "He is headed back to Kain. Isn't that where you want to be?"

"Of course. But I am not eager to have Nenneke chase me out again as though I have done something shameful. I'll go when he is alone." Ciri looked after Geralt's disappearing form, her brow briefly furrowed in thought. "Until then, I shall tend to the horses."

She turned without any further words and headed for the stables, quick on her feet.

* * *

The scissors in Nenneke's hand froze, and she turned around with Geralt's name on her lips, but it was Kain among the greenery, silent as a lurking cat.

"Now, look at that," Nenneke smirked. "You're just as stubborn. Glad to see you feel that much better."

"To feel that much better I need your permission to leave to the woods for a bit," he said. "It's how I heal."

"You never required our help with it, unlike your elven friends, and it made me wonder," she mused. "It could be luck, I told myself. And never asked."

"No, you never asked. But my luck is average."

"Some would disagree. He told me."

"I thought he would."

She regarded him with a pensive smile, then shook her head. "I never would've thought, even though you did remind me of him. I blamed the necklace."

"We have many commonalities, as well as differences. Whatever's in our faces is in the eyes of the beholder, however. Those who know tend to see it because they're looking for it."

"Perhaps." She sighed and turned back to her herbs, snipping. "Why do you need my permission? Could've snuck out."

"I'm your guest here."

She smiled to herself. "Fair. I shall not stop you."

He stroked a finger along a vervain flower stem and was about to leave when she turned to him again.

"Careful with the girl."

He gave her a conflicted look. "I'm trying to keep my distance but she would have none of it."

"Oh, I can see that. Ciri is full of passion and headstrong attitude, always has been - I guess, her training with Yennefer contributed to it a great deal. But unlike her, Ciri's always sure of what she wants."

He frowned slightly but kept silent. Nenneke nodded as if he spoke.

"She found you, didn't she," the priestess said, snipping another stem, and put it in her basket.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "You also believe in destiny?"

"I believe that people mold their own destiny with their choices, Kainar. And you believe your life will put you where you need to be."

He smiled briefly, recalling their talks, but then he sobered again.

"It's not about destiny," she continued. "It's about what you want or don't want. As simple as that. But some of you witchers love to complicate simple things, just because you deem yourselves too complicated for them."

There was a pause, and she thought he left on his cat's feet, but then he spoke.

"Thank you."

"For the potions or sticking my nose into your business?" She was smirking when she cast a gander at him over her shoulder.

He smiled. "Both. I needed it."

She nodded. "Go with the Goddess, witcher. She takes care of all."

He bowed his head in a mute agreement and left. Nenneke snipped a few more leaves and took her basket to return to the Temple's lab.

Kain picked his path around the back of the Temple, and in his passing by the back wall of the stables, he clucked his tongue calling Onyx. The stallion pricked his ears and left his roll of hay, trotting for the gates where Kain was waiting.

"Leaving so soon?" Ciri called, her gaze following the progress of the stallion towards Kain as she rounded the stable wall.

Kain was up and walking – that was progress at least.

Kain chuckled. He wasn't surprised to fail at avoiding her. He rarely managed.

"I need an hour or two," he reminded, stroking the stallion's neck, and went to pull the latches on the gates open. "Beds and potions don't work as fast."

"You sure you can manage to get there and back?" He'd been in critical condition only last night. Ciri didn't like the thought of him passing out somewhere in the middle of the forest. Alone.

"I'm not alone," he nodded at the horse, and he pushed the gate open. Onyx trotted out and stopped a few yards away, waiting. "You already saved me when it mattered. Now I'll be fine, thanks to all of you."

Ciri smiled a little. "Nenneke and her priestesses did the work. We just brought you here."

He shook his head. "You came for me before she drained me. I would've let her. The price for fighting her was too high for me, I hesitated, and then it was too late."

"Right. The swamp magic," Ciri mused, remembering he had said as much earlier. She pushed the thought aside and regarded him. "Let me come along. I won't do anything to interfere with your healing. I'll just... be close by. In case of an emergency."

"There will be no emergency. I'd rather be alone for this. I'll be fine, I promise."

He turned and went to Onyx who made a few steps back to him. Kain mounted in one fluid motion and Onyx set out into gallop toward the woods.

Ciri stared after him, the dust that rose from under Onyx' hoofs temporarily hiding him. And then he was gone. Out of sight.

I could catch up with him easily, Ciri thought. I could make him stay with me no matter if he wants to or not.

Kelpie neighed from inside the stable and knocked Ciri out of her state of thought. She blinked, astounded by her own inner monologue, then brushed it aside, stepping towards the mare that demanded her attention.

Ciri made certain Kelpie and the other horses had fresh water and hay, then led her mare outside. She'd never been fond of being locked away in dark buildings anyway. Kelpie preferred the open sky, the feeling of sun and rain against her shiny coat.

The two trotted off down the road, veering in the opposite direction of where Kain and Onyx had traveled, both on foot. They soon came upon a field of green grass and wildflowers in abundance and Kelpie set off to graze while Ciri took a seat on the ground, watching the horse serenely while considering everything she, Geralt, and Yennefer had discussed.

She'd briefly entertained the thought of jumping back to Novigrad to press Avallac'h for information, but now a verbal battle with the elf seemed too tiring to follow through with. So Ciri simply allowed herself to enjoy the fresh air and sun for a while. It was a rare moment. And she had the sneaking suspicion it would soon end.

* * *

Geralt found their room empty and Kain's clothes absent. His sword, however, was still propped next to Geralt's.

The Witcher simpered knowingly and went to the tiny balcony. He bent over it a little to see the gates and noted Ciri and her mare walking away. No sign of Kain, though Geralt guessed where he was. Judging by the lack of hurry in Ciri's pace, she wasn't chasing.

He sighed and went back outside. Where Yennefer was still strolling the narrow paths among the beds of flowers, enjoying the sun.

"Kain asleep?" Yennefer asked, spotting Geralt.

"He's not there. Gone to the woods, I assume. I knew it was bound to happen soon when he made a face at the chamber pot."

"The chamber pot isn't for everyone," Yennefer teased. "Besides, I don't blame him for wanting to get out of the boundaries of the temple. The weather's good and the sun's out. Are you going after him?"

"What for? He's a grown man. He'll come back feeling better." He paused, casting a glance in the gate's direction. "Ciri went out as well. With her mare."

Yennefer had asked because he'd been so concerned the day before for Kain's wellbeing and still was. It seemed natural that he'd want to keep an eye on him.

"You saw her go with him?"

"She was alone with her mare and not in any hurry. I don't think she went after him."

Yennefer nodded and carefully went to his side to join him, linking her arm through his to coax him into a simple stroll with her. There wasn't much else for them to do. And Ciri had been right, while he was unencumbered by war or any other distractions, its best she actually hold onto the moment with two hands.

"About yesterday…" Yennefer began, her voice calm, a small smile on her features to let him know she wasn't going to be grilling him about love or feeling things. "What prompted your sudden curiosity? You said you'd remembered some things? Was it because of being here? Nenneke?"

Odd, that the one place they'd never actually spent much time together would spur that kind of curiosity or magic. Nevertheless, Yennefer was grateful.

"I don't know why I remembered it," he said. "It just flashed in my mind, but I couldn't place it." He looked at her with a small smile. "You want to share something else I have to know?"

"Have to know? As in life and death involved if you don't?" Yennefer countered, her lips twitching slightly. "It's hard to assume. I told you pretty much all of it yesterday – the highlights. It's easier if I know where your head is and what you're remembering. Not that all of it is good."

Geralt shrugged. "I don't know where my head is. It's hard to try to remember things you don't. I don't know what I'm looking for."

"Yet something came to mind before. There had to be a trigger. It's only a matter of finding out what it is."

He winced. "Don't dig too deep - I merely remembered the stones I meant to give you, that's all."

"Oh," Yennefer said, unable to contain the disappointment in her tone. She'd hoped that with yesterday he'd be more open to the idea. "I suppose it's a start."

"A start of what?" Geralt asked cunningly.

Was Geralt really trying to make her spell it out?

"Of gaining your memories."

Of _them_. The _us_ the Djinn had robbed them of.

He took a deeper breath that was a good alternative to a sigh, and said nothing.

Yennefer sensed the change easy enough. She kept a hold of his arm a few silent minutes longer, recollecting his mention of patience the day before and then slowly withdrew her hand.

It was so much easier said than done.

"I'm going to go have a look around the library, see if Nenneke has acquired any new information we could use since the last time I was here."

Yennefer doubted there would be any new, but then again, it was no more than an excuse, one they could utilize to take away from the guilt and push of pressure she tended to encourage every time she opened her mouth. She offered him a smile and then headed off toward the library.

He looked as she was walking away, then went to have one more circle around the garden. Dinner time was coming.

* * *

_Horse's hooves pounding against a dying forest floor. Frost smoke expelled from a muzzle bound with black leather. Three elven hearts beating in unison with greedy elation. The Hunt is here. They have come for their prize. They will be left wanting._

Ciri opened her eyes and found herself in the same spot where she had dozed off a few minutes earlier. In the warmth of the sun, surrounded by wildflowers and bumblebees, Kelpie peacefully grazing a few feet away... It was hard to imagine her dream had been real.

But it was. She felt it with every fiber of her being. The Hunt had come to Crookback Bog. Hoping to find her broken by the crones and ripe for the taking.

Biggest mistake of their lives.

A flash of emerald.

* * *

Theoden Glyncrana, a mage in Eredin Bréacc Glas army, led his two fellow soldiers out of the scorched temple. They'd arrived mere minutes ago with the aid of Caranthir himself, and a new portal would open nearby in exactly twenty-six minutes. A portal the three Aen Elle were meant to use to transport The Swallow and the Witcher boy back to their world. And to their King who craved the Children of Elder Blood more and more every day.

The frost was steadily working its way towards the heart of their world. The elves settled in the mountains on the far edges had already been forced to flee. It was only a matter of time before the inhabitants of Tir Na Lía would be forced to do the same. Elder Blood was their only hope.

And they had been here. Very recently.

But not any longer. Something had happened here. Something big. Even if the huts had not been burned and the swamp drained of life, Theoden would have felt it. Something like a magical cataclysm.

"There's nothing here," one of the soldiers pointed out unnecessarily, igniting Theoden's urge to squash him like a bug. For who would be blamed when they returned emptyhanded? Not the nameless soldiers, that was certain.

No, Theoden would be the one to take the brunt of Eredin's anger. And the very thought made his heart race with an oncoming panic.

He exhaled heavily through parted lips and stared off into the line of decayed trees. Then paused, perking.

"There!" Theoden cried, gesturing to the spot up ahead where he had just seen a blonde figure dash away.

The two soldiers jumped onto their horses and gave chase immediately, swords drawn, the sound of hoof-beats making the ground tremble. Theoden remained behind, licking his lips hungrily, one hand clutched around his wizard's staff in anticipation.

It wasn't long before he could hear the clashing of swords, grunts, and cries of exertion and pain, the shrill protest of a horse panicking.

Theoden strode forth, leaving his own mount behind as he hurried after the soldiers. He was already half-muttering spells under his breath, preparing to snare the girl with magic while she was distracted with his fellow elves.

A plan that came up short when Theoden heard approaching footsteps. He paused and stared. From behind one of the trees, Zireael emerged, panting lightly, her blonde locks falling from their ties to frame her beautiful face. Her cheeks were flushed with a pink hue and her green eyes shone with an emotion Theoden could not quite decipher. Not until her lips parted in a smile.

Her sword was drenched in blood, dripping with it. Theoden could tell by the way she moved, with such ease and grace, that none of it belonged to her.

Theoden swung his staff as Zireael charged for him but struck only air when the girl vanished. She reappeared a second later, sword flung to the ground, her legs wrapped around his waist tightly. Delicate hands clamped down on either side of Theoden's head, and startled, he gasped as she claimed his lips in a deep kiss.

Pain exploded in the mage's head and spread down towards his chest and abdomen. She was doing... She was doing something... Theoden's legs failed him and he fell to his knees in the mud.

Ciri didn't relent when the elf fell. She held onto him as though her life depended on it, her lips fused to his as she inhaled, drew him in. His power was hers for the taking. His life was hers. She fed on it greedily without hesitation or remorse, grinding her hips down against him to heighten the pure pleasure that coursed through her body.

It didn't feel human. Ciri didn't feel human. She was something else. Something more. Her whole being was giddy with it. With an ancient power that only promised further ecstasy the more magic she used. The more people she killed.

They were all unworthy of her anyway. Betrayers and usurpers. All were out to harm her. And use her. They deserved death. This elf deserved death.

And that is what she gave him.

Ciri's cry of bliss was swallowed by the elf's mouth. She fell back, releasing him, entirely out of breath, and her whole body buzzing with renewed energy and a temporary satiated need for more power.

She looked at the elf. He was no longer handsome. Nothing more than skin stretched taut over bones. Gaunt and hollow. She'd taken all of him and only the scraps remained. They would rot here along with the mutilated corpses of his fellow Aen Elle.

They'd come here thinking they could take her.

Ciri laughed.


	58. Chapter 58

When Ciri returned, it was with a spring in her step and Kelpie trotting along behind her.

She returned the mare to the stable and headed for the temple, intending to ask for a bath.

She spotted Geralt on her way and stopped. "Kain back yet?"

"Not that I saw. He'll be back before nightfall." He regarded her with cunning interest. "Where have you been?"

Ciri leaned in, grinned, and tapped the tip of Geralt's nose with a finger. "On an adventure."

Somehow it worried him, deep down in his heart. But he tried to smile. "What kind?"

Ciri considered him, her grin transforming to something more like a knowing smile. "The kind I probably should not discuss with my father figure." She squeezed his shoulders, then backed away. "I'm going to wash up before supper."

His smile slipped off completely, replaced with naked concern. He caught her arm. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only that there are certain things a father and a daughter are not supposed to share," Ciri said. "Or so I'm told."

She rested her hand over his, squeezed assuringly, then proceeded on her way.

"There is no such rule between us, and you know it," he called after her, annoyed. Frustration rose from within him where he had it suppressed during the recent day or two. A small worm of fear writhed in the middle of it.

The fear of her slipping away again.

* * *

When Kain returned to the Temple's grounds, the sun was beginning to set and the sky was reddish with pink and purple clouds passing over it.

Geralt was in their room with a steaming stew in his hands, eating on the balcony.

"You're just in time for dinner," he said.

"Great." Kain took the bowl meant for him from the table and sat down on the bed.

"Feeling all right now?" Geralt inquired.

"The scars are gone, too. Griffin's in the woods."

Geralt looked surprised. "You called him somehow?"

Kain shrugged. "I might've. We get glimpses into each other's minds."

They ate in silence for a bit. Geralt surveyed the sky and remembered the red shine of her hair, the quiet whisper of her voice, the gentle touch of her small hands.

"Did you see anything?" he asked, still staring at the sky. "While you were out?"

Kain thought for a moment. "Nothing I remember, I'm afraid. Why? Something happened?"

"I... had a dream." Geralt finished his stew and set the bowl on the railing. He felt his brother's eyes on his back.

"I don't suppose you saw Yennefer," Kain said eventually, joining him at the railing.

"It was just a dream," Geralt mused, and peered at Kain. "Wasn't it?"

Kain's mouth twitched with a hint of amusement. "What you mean is 'it wasn't real'?"

Geralt made no response, just looking at him somewhat expectantly.

Kain sighed, averting his eyes to watch the sky go darker shades of purple and blue. "My dreams with her are always real. Why should yours be less?" He looked the Witcher in the eye. "Why do you keep thinking you're lesser?"

Geralt set his jaw, but didn't look away. "You know why."

"I know it's what you decided to think. I'm not sure it helped you any with the pain before, and I see it certainly doesn't now. So why you're so eager to hold on to it?"

Geralt spread his arms briefly with a faint helpless smile tainted with heartache. "It's the only truth I know. She gave me no other."

"Were you willing to listen?"

"Of course," he said and thought of how angry and scorned he felt. How he yelled at her. How he wished to see her pain, her regret. Anything.

Kain took his empty bowl from the railing and went into the room to set it on the table. Geralt squeezed his fingers around the railing and looked up at the sky.

The urge to go to Yennefer made its appearance. Only she was no longer alone.

"We should get an early night," he said. "Tomorrow we'll see what we do next."

"Agreed."

Geralt nodded, but didn't hurry to leave the balcony. He wished to see the stars begin to ignite amidst the clouds.

* * *

Night came but Ciri's high didn't abate. She'd never felt more alive, more powerful. Not to mention beautiful.

She'd watched herself in Yennefer's looking glass while she bathed and found that her skin had a new glow. The green of her eyes looked more intense and her lips seemed pinker and swollen.

It was with this new discovery in mind that Ciri later ventured out of the room she shared with Yennefer. Everyone were fast asleep and she met no one on her way as she made for Kain's room.

Ciri crept in on silent feet. The room was entirely dark. The only thing Ciri could see was the outline of Kain's bed illuminated by the moon through the window.

She smiled to herself as she slipped out of the robe she'd been wearing to dry off and silently climbed into the bed beside Kain, draping one leg over his hip to press up against him. She wanted to feel his body against hers like she had the night before. To be close, even though he kept denying her.

* * *

Geralt lies awake in the dark staring at the ceiling, listening to the thunder cracking outside the keep's walls. He's thinking about Ciri and her trance during their dinner, how her face went blank as if drained of any emotion, of the humanity itself, and she became something else, something more... Things she said to Coën and Geralt don't go from his mind that keeps rolling through them over and over, turning her prophecies into a neverending loop.

He feels helpless. There's been too few moments when he felt lost like that, and most of them were around Ciri. She keeps putting him in that position, making him afraid for her. It's like his life itself keeps proving how misplaced he is as a father - someone he was never supposed to become, and for a good reason, as he's always thought. Destiny... What can it even be? Perhaps it's some twisted sorcery meant to ruin lives, like curses...

She climbs under his covers, and he feels her naked body against his. She's shivering.

"Let me sleep with you, Geralt," she whispers, her breath hot on his ear and neck. "I'm so cold. Please... Just tonight..."

A bright flash illuminates the windows for the briefest moment, and in a few more, it thunders loudly. She clings to him, her warm hands roaming his chest and stomach.

"Just tonight..."

He feels he can sleep now, his eyes close as if his eyelids are too heavy, and even her stroking hands can't keep him awake any longer.

"Triss..." he groans in protest as the slumber pulls him into the dark, and the rain outside gets stronger.

... And her hands felt hotter. He struggled, disoriented, and felt he was waking up.

"Triss?" he muttered, trying to open his eyes.

"What?!" Ciri blinked, pushing herself up on an elbow to peer down at... Geralt?

"What are you doing here!?" In Kain's bed.

Shock jolted through Geralt's nerves as he sat up in a jerk, and then the candles on the table flared alight, and he saw Ciri's astonished face and wide eyes. She was naked next to him. She wasn't even covering up.

"What is this?" he breathed, air hitching in his throat.

"I thought you were Kain, obviously!" Ciri hissed, slipping out of bed to reclaim her robe. "What are you doing in his bed?"

"We switched," Kain said, finding his voice. He was sitting on the mattress on the floor where Geralt had slept before. "He prefers beds unlike me."

Ciri looked to Kain. She hadn't even noticed him in the dark. Nor had she assumed he and Geralt would share a room now Kain was no longer dying.

"What's gotten into you?" Geralt demanded, unable to shake off the shock. He felt dizzy with it.

"Honest mistake," Ciri said, holding her hands up in defense after tying her robe shut. "Could have happened to anyone." She couldn't help but laugh; a genuine trill of laughter. "Oh my, Nenneke would have had a stroke seeing this."

Geralt shot a look at Kain and read no indignation there that the Witcher himself felt, only baffled amusement. He turned back to Ciri who showed no embarrassment whatsoever, and opened his mouth to ask why she did it, but then thought it was silly. It was too unlike her, but that was hardly something to point out to her.

He went with, "Go back to your bed, Ciri." He felt exhausted. And lost. As lost as in his dream she woke him from.

And Ciri was once again the reason.

She somehow always was.

"Certainly." Ciri executed an extravagant bow, unable to keep from snickering to herself as she exited the room.

She was vaguely aware she should have felt something akin to shame and embarrassment. But those emotions felt like a vague memory. Useless.

Ciri didn't go back to Yennefer's room. She wanted to see the night sky and fall asleep under the stars. Nenneke's garden would do just fine.

Geralt turned to Kain, puzzled and exasperatedly helpless. Oh, how much he hated that feeling.

"Something's going on with her," he said. "She wouldn't have done that. Like something's gotten into her."

"You're not saying she's possessed," Kain frowned. "By who? Or what? The Crones are dead, and Eredin..." He shrugged.

"Think Eredin can do that?" Geralt asked, and immediately felt ashamed for being hopeful. As bad as it was, it would mean Ciri was not slipping through his fingers while becoming someone he hardly knew. "We need to get back. We need Avallac'h."

"If Eredin was doing it, she'd be by his side already," Kain reasoned. "Stop it, Geralt. She's here and fine right now. If you act all suspicious and try to read into her every move, all it's going to do is enrage or upset her. You won't get any clarity that way. Let's sleep and see what happens in the morning."

"She's not fine," Geralt muttered, lying back down reluctantly. "Maybe I have to check on her."

"She's not five, she knows where her room is. Sleep." Kain waved a hand, and the candles blew out. "You'll see her in the morning."

"I better," the Witcher grumbled.

He tossed and turned, his mind finding no way to relax until it was beginning to dawn. Then he finally fell back into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The incident had lost some of its grim colors by the morning. But the poor sleep failed to wipe the frown off Geralt's face.

"Have you talked to Ciri yesterday?" he asked, getting dressed.

Kain stepped away from the water bowl and reached for the towel to wipe his face. "She caught me at the gate, wanted to come with. I said I needed to be alone, and she stayed behind. Why? Was that important? You think it set her off somehow?" He looked vaguely amused, and Geralt once again felt stupid in his suspicions. The Witcher rubbed his neck, pondering it.

"I saw her walk away with her mare, and she was elsewhere for hours. The way she strolled seemed sort of sad, and now I guess it's reasonable if you refused her company."

"Oh come on, Geralt, I only denied her because I truly wanted to heal alone. Had it not been it - and I'm sure she understood."

"She's just sensitive that way, ever since she met you. She takes everything you say to her personally."

Kain put on his jerkin and gave his brother a look. "You want me to talk to her?"

Geralt washed his face over the water bowl, considering it carefully. Then he peered at Kain, unsettled. "You think I've overreacted a bit?"

"You might've. She's not the shy little girl you sometimes mistake her for, she's rather mischievous when she feels like it."

"Hmm." Geralt felt as if it became a bit easier to breathe as some of the rightness in his chest began to loosen. "Think Yennefer might've encouraged her to take some steps?"

Kain hemmed, simultaneously entertained and worried by such an idea. "I wouldn't put it past her. She likes to push when she feels it's right."

Geralt nodded. He felt better now. Much better. "All right. Let's go see what's for breakfast."

* * *

Ciri woke to find a gaggle of young girls staring down at her with wide eyes and mischievous smiles they hid behind their hands. She'd fallen asleep outside, alright, under one of the beautiful trees in the garden, her back resting against the trunk.

"You! Get away from there!" Nenneke called to the girls as she stormed towards them with a motherly scowl on her face. "Have you not enough chores to take care of? If not, I am happy to give you more."

The girls disbanded and ran off back towards the temple. Some were still giggling.

"Ciri," Nenneke exclaimed as she neared the ashen-haired girl. "Are you hurt? What are you doing out here?"

Ciri pushed herself to her feet and stretched, trying to work the kink from her neck. She smiled reassuringly. "I am fine. Wanted to see the stars last night and fell asleep."

Nenneke huffed. "In your robe?" She watched Ciri with a disapproving shake of the head. "Go inside, young lady, and get dressed. It's almost time for breakfast."

Ciri didn't argue. She didn't feel the need to. She simply followed in the other girls' wake and strolled towards the temple.

* * *

Geralt hesitated a moment, then knocked on Yennefer's door, wondering if Ciri was there, if she told the enchantress about last night or didn't. Most of all he wished it was just as Kain named it: mischief.

Yennefer had bathed and dressed early in the morning, unconcerned that Ciri hadn't come back to the room last night, assuming she'd slept in Geralt's.

Or, more specifically, Kain's.

When the knock on the door sounded, she eased off the mattress, set the book she'd fixated on aside, and opened it.

"Morning," Yennefer greeted as she came face to face with Geralt, detecting that his energy was a bit off. "Is everything well?"

"With us it is," he said. "Is Ciri up yet? They're setting up our breakfast in the garden. While the weather is good."

"Ciri never slept here last night. I assumed she was with you. With both of you. Is Kain back?"

His face darkened. "She came briefly and left for back here - at least it's what we thought." He squinted, gauging the mage. "Have you put her up to coming to Kain?"

"Do you really think I'd need to?" Yennefer asked, unsure of what he was trying to hint at but sensing there was more to it. She was beginning to worry. She took a step forward, encouraging him to take one back so she could close her bedroom door and then slowly headed for the outside so they could search for her.

"Have you never spoken to Ciri about her feelings, nor advised she took any bold moves?"

"Ciri and I have spoken countless times. Be assured, as a woman, I've suggested a multitude of approaches to a certain situation she's concerned about. But not once have I forced her to do so, if that's what you're trying to ask me."

He sighed and stalled her pace. "I know you wouldn't force her. But... She crept into my bed last night, naked. Thinking Kain was there, but we had switched before. I just..." He paused, uncertain, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't expect it from her, is all. Kain thinks I'm reading too much into it. You think so, too?"

Yennefer let him guide her to a stop, her brows furrowed, her expression bouncing first to unease and then amusement. That had to be awkward. "You didn't expect Ciri to want to be naked with a man that she has feelings for?" Yennefer studied him, her smile widening. "That she might want to take comfort in Kain and has been working up to it for some time? She almost lost him a day ago. Could be she was simply looking to seize the night." She shrugged slightly, letting him know she could only speculate. "What I think is that you're protective and that since getting her back, it's hard to distinguish ourselves with the fact that during her time away from us she became a woman. A woman with… lustrous needs."

Geralt winced at hearing her name the uncomfortable subject aloud. "It's not that I don't realize she has... needs," he muttered. "It's all the other aspects of how she was forced to grow up by people I'd like to flay alive. I hate to think of things they put her through when she was too young for such, and I wasn't there to spare her some childhood innocence. I'll never forgive myself for it."

"Neither will I," Yennefer agreed, touching his arm. "Instead of looking so grim about the prospect of her taking control of what's happened, celebrate the fact that she's alive, and despite everything, she's trying to live a half-ordinary life." She squeezed his bicep sympathetically. "Neither of us is ever going to let anyone touch her again in any way she doesn't want. That's a promise. But, with regard to your concern, last night, that was Ciri's choice. The fact that it happened to be Kain – that's another thing you're going to have to come to terms with as I don't think that particular want is going to be dwindling anytime soon"

"I don't want her to be hurt," he said. "Neither of them. When one is too eager and another isn't ready, it's bound to end in tears. I don't want her to suffer rejection, and the more she pushes, the more he runs."

"She's suffered a lot worse, Geralt," Yennefer said, removing the hand from his arm, casting a quick glance toward the outside. "You can't protect her from romantic love, or who she chooses to love. Ciri needs to make those choices herself. All we can do, and do best, is be there to nurse her heart as needs be."

"It's not just some man," he reasoned. "It's someone who's not going out of her sight if something goes wrong between them."

"And you think that'll be the worst thing to happen to Ciri? To be near someone that rejected her? That broke her heart over and over?"

He frowned, sensing some subtext in her voice. "It won't be the best outcome for her, no," he commented carefully. "Not after the hard years she needs to heal."

"I don't want to see her have her heart broken either. However, you're not Kain, and I'm not Ciri. Neither of us can decide how their relationship ends, or doesn't, before it even actually begun. For all you know he could be precisely what she needs to heal," Yennefer paused to let that sink in. The same could be said for their talk the night before. Geralt blew hot, cold, then hot again and Yennefer had absolutely no idea anymore what to think with regard to what Geralt wanted and what he didn't want. She also didn't dare venture into his head as freely as she'd done in the past. "Just be there for her as you have been."

With that, Yennefer slowly turned on him and proceeded to head outside, hopeful Ciri would make her appearance.

The lighter mood he had upon waking and talking to Kain had nearly vanished. He followed Yennefer outside, feeling confused and therefore gloomy. Ciri's antics were difficult to sort at times, but there was also Yennefer who demanded no less attention and finesse, and there he had little to no knowledge of how to be.

* * *

After Ciri had sought out the priestess who tended to her muddy and bloodied clothes the day before, she dressed in the freshly laundered items and stepped back outside.

They had set up a large table in the garden where people were taking their breakfast. Kain was among them.

Ciri took a seat next to him and helped herself to a shiny red apple from the bowl of fruit.

"Morning."

"Morning to you, too," he said between the bites - the priestesses made some wonderful pastries with fresh butter and herbs. He washed it down with herbal tea, studying Ciri with interest. "Slept well?"

"I did, actually," she smiled and took a bite of the juicy apple. Unlike all the cooked and prepared food she'd eaten lately, it tasted wonderful. Like it was exactly what she needed. "How did your healing session go? You all better now?"

"Yes, like nothing happened." He opted for some scrambled eggs and fried vegetables along with more pastries stuffed with cheese.

"Good. Then we will probably leave soon. We have so much to do."

So many people who needed killing. And after yesterday, Ciri was in no doubt that she was capable of taking them all out. Even Eredin.

She pictured that particular scenario with a growing smile on her face.

Kain considered her, chewing on his pastry. Her smile made him a tad uneasy, there was something in it he didn't like. Like... hunger?

"You have worked out some solid plans?" he asked.

"Not yet. Geralt worries The Hunt will launch another attack on the cities. I suppose we need to question Avallac'h about it. If anyone would know, it's him."

Kain recalled his last talk with Avallac'h and bit back a smile of irony. He didn't believe the elf would be eager to share any intel on his kin's strategies. He would rather try to pull their focus to Skellige and finding the Sunstone.

There was no use in pointing it out to her now, anyway, and he didn't. He focused on another part instead.

"Why you think they'd attack the cities again?"

Ciri shrugged. "To create chaos. Fear. Instill guilt in me to make me surrender. And if the humans they threaten start hunting for me as well, all the better for Eredin."

Thankfully finding Ciri was no problem. She was at the table the Priestesses had laid out for breakfast, talking to Kain.

"And there she is," Yennefer murmured for Geralt's ears only, hopeful at least that finding Ciri in one piece would eradicate a little of his concerns. It had hers.

"Hmm," Geralt responded, feeling an echo of the last night's awkwardness.

Mischief, he thought. Just mischief that came up after all the trials of the recent time. Just that. Had to be.

"Morning," Yennefer greeted once they joined the collection of people at the table, her gaze focusing on Ciri and Kain and what she'd picked up of their conversation. "Discussing strategy or problems? Who's hunting who?"

"There's only one problem with hunting, and it's the Aen Elle," Kain said and turned back to Ciri. "If they wanted to, they'd have attacked already. More likely they would stand by waiting for the Crones to aid them. I would expect them to check out the bog."

"I bet they did," Geralt said, settling at the table. "It was getting colder when I left."

"They did," Ciri confirmed casually, taking another large bite of her apple. She spoke around it. "They were there yesterday. Scouts."

Everybody froze staring at her. Geralt shot a glance at Kain: both figured what her stroll meant.

Adventure, Geralt thought, remembering her cunning mien.

"You went there?" he asked like a disapproving father. "Alone?"

"I did," Ciri answered, throwing her apple core into the nearest bush. "I didn't think Kelpie would enjoy it."

Yennefer helped herself to an apple, studying Ciri even as she tossed her own finished one over her shoulder, absorbing her dismissive attitude.

"That was a bit reckless. You're lucky they didn't see you..."

"I'm not talking about Kelpie, Ciri!" Geralt nearly yelled, toning it down in the last moment. "You should've told me! You saw what happened to Kain there? And he wasn't alone! How could you be so reckless with your life when so many are trying to help and protect you?"

Ciri looked from Yennefer to Geralt. She felt genuinely puzzled by his sudden anger.

"I knew I could take them," she said simply as though this should have been obvious. "They didn't stand a chance. In fact," she laughed a little, "it was funny to see the arrogance wash off their faces."

Geralt drew in a breath for another bout, but Kain shot him a look, and he gnashed his teeth, trying to cool down. It was impossibly hard.

"Could take them?" he repeated with a ghost of snark. "Why then have you spent so many years jumping worlds with Avallac'h if they're so easy? Why do we have half of Oxenfurt destroyed and so many dead if you could take them?"

"Geralt," Kain murmured.

Yennefer lost her appetite and she had hardly even touched the apple.

"Now is not the time for thoughtless revenge," she chided. "You have no idea what could have happened – what might have happened had they called more soldiers in. You could have ended up in their clutches again and none of us would have known where you were. Why'd you even go back there?"

"Because I didn't know until now," Ciri said, getting to her feet. She was smiling because surely they would all be equally excited when she explained. "Avallac'h tried to tell me. I can do anything I can imagine... I just had to believe it." Ciri shot a playful look at Kain. "Did you know we can drain people of their life force just by touching them?" She clasped his face between her hands and leaned down, brushing her lips across his. "Suck them dry? It's easy when you know how... And it feels like... Like every dark and hollow place inside of you is healed." She let him go and turned back to Geralt. "Oh, Geralt, don't be angry." Then Yennefer, who now had taken a similar tone to the Witcher. "Because I am done letting people hurt me. Use me. I'm going to make them suffer in the most delicious of ways. Like they deserve. Like I was meant to do all along."

Yennefer watched in amazement. Ciri was answering their questions, but instead of the usual contrition, perhaps sulky guilt about being scolded like a child, her entire demeanor had shifted. She'd even been so bold as to kiss Kain. Or instruct…

"Not you," Yennefer corrected. "Us. We're in this fight together. I thought you knew that. Why the change of heart?"

The witchers stared at Ciri as if she suddenly sprouted horns and a tail turning into a fiend before their very eyes. Now Kain didn't seem unconcerned, either, which scared Geralt even more.

"Who said you were meant to suck the life out of people?" he asked. "What exactly does it even mean? And how do you know how to do it? Who taught you that?"

Ciri laughed. "Not meant to suck the life out of people, Geralt! Meant to punish them. The ones who hurt me. And the ones who might. The ones who are considering it." She looked to Yennefer. "Of course we are in this together. Does not mean we are to do everything together. I told you, I could take care of this on my own. And I did. Three dead soldiers all in a row. Well, more like scattered around the swamp, to be honest." Ciri smiled to herself. "No one had to teach me. I just knew. My body guided me. My magic."

She inhaled subtly, a light tremor rippling through her body as she looked out towards the garden, her eyes taking on a glassy look.

"All shall cower before the Elder Blood," she whispered, then snapped back to them, looking between her parents and Kain. "Shall we get ready to depart now Kain is well again?"

"It's not just about me," Kain said without hesitation. "Geralt and Yennefer had their own injuries and strains."

"Yes, I'd rather stay another day, since all is good in Novigrad," Geralt agreed, trying to keep his face neutral. Like nothing was happening while his world was turning upside down within him.

Ciri watched them all with a scrutinizing look, eyes narrowed. Searching.

Then she perked. "As you wish. Though we really need to work on your recovery time. We've a war to win, hm?" She leaned in and placed a kiss on Geralt's cheek before striding off towards the stables. She could never quite trust the workers to take care of Kelpie properly.

Geralt watched her stroll away with a lost expression, then hid his face in his hands. "Oh gods..."

"It is strange," Kain commented.

"Like I said!" Geralt hissed, annoyed and frightened. "Did you see her slip into that trance? Like back in her childhood. Is this some curse progressing or... possession? What is it?"

Kain looked at him almost apologetically. "Hard to tell. We need to find out what happened to her and when."

"How do we do that when she's not telling anything specific? Should I interrogate her like a criminal? She won't have it."

"No way," Kain shook his head. "If you treat her like she's in the wrong or there's something wrong with her, she will close up and you lose her."

Yennefer watched Ciri walk away and seriously considered an incantation to knock her out. Presently, she didn't trust Ciri – didn't know what had happened.

Yennefer pushed her chair back, plucked a few blades of grass and set it in her hand, cupping the other over, murmuring an incantation. When she removed the left hand off of the right, a green bug sized creature had fled, shot in the direction that Ciri had gone to spy on her and make sure she didn't leave the temple grounds. Any trust Yennefer had in Ciri presently deceased.

She cast a glance within the direction of the priestesses still hovering about the table helping themselves to food and clearing away other plates.

She didn't like talking in front of them.

"She seemed fine yesterday. The morning at least. We've to figure out what's triggered the change? What set her off? It can only be magic—perhaps her fight with Eredin's men."

"We have to go there and see," Geralt said.

"If we all go, she'll know," Kain argued. "It's best for one of us to go. And have an excuse for it."

Geralt rubbed his temples, then his scalp, his appetite completely vanished. "You two should go," he said finally, peering between them. "You'll get more information and in shorter time than I would. I'll try to keep an eye on her."

Yennefer frowned.

"Kain would probably be the most efficient at distracting Ciri," she elaborated, easing forward so she could rest her elbows on the table. "If she's keeping an account of anyone's movements – it's his." And she'd explained as much to Geralt before they reached the breakfast table. "You and I should go."

The Witcher shook his head. "He has more magic and means to get a reading out of the scene. It's not some monster activity scouting, Yennefer. It's different. Something I'm not as good at as he is."

Kain wasn't fond of having to go alone with the enchantress, but couldn't disagree with Geralt's thought. "I can go alone and prevent her from finding me, if you worry she would go looking," he added. "I know how to do it."

"No, we'll go together," Yennefer countered. She was a lot of things, but she wasn't privy to being the cause of the man's demise. He was too important to Ciri and Geralt and who knew if there were still any of Eredin's fighters out there? Scouting for those Ciri claimed to have disposed of the night before.

She took a bite of her apple without even tasting it, dismissing what remained as she got to her feet and headed in search of a place to summon the golden door that would carry them to the Bog.

Unprepared to waste time.

"Try to be quick," Geralt said, squeezing Kain's shoulder shortly.

Kain nodded and went after Yennefer to steer her to a solitary place in the backyard where they could avoid being seen.

Geralt stayed at the table and tried a pastry he didn't want. If he went to the stables, Ciri would know something was up. Better play it smarter.

He winced and took a tiny bite.


	59. Chapter 59

Yennefer allowed Kain to guide her to the spot and then gave a practiced wave of her hand. The portal appeared and she gestured for him to step through. Seconds later they were outside what remained of the Crone's home. Which wasn't much. The magic that had been present in the swamp was no more than a faint tickle in the air, a remnant she knew would eventually fade in its entirety. She pushed her observation aside and carefully scanned the area, searching for the bodies, waiting for Kain to take the next step.

It had been days, and the burnt shrine still smelled of something foul. The rain that had been falling since the fire did nothing to wash it away yet, and Kain thought the healing of this place would take a while. It brought back the memory of the Skellige garden, and he cast a quick glance Yennefer's way; she was strolling before the hut like a black ghost seeking for its body. The mist was hanging in the air like a thin shimmer, but the heavy, molasses-like feel of black magic soaking the earth was not as prominent, anymore.

Kain approached the black remains of the shrine; a shiver rippled through his frame as if from cold. The vision of the Crone and her cackling, cracked voice promising to get Ciri and eat her feet were too close – right there in the blackness of the burnt wood, still there.

He tore his eyes from the charred ruins with effort and turned his back on it, focusing on the task. He stood, unmoving, for a moment, his eyes closing, his hands turning as if probing the air while he breathed slowly and deeply, cleaning his mind of everything personal. It took a bit of effort, but not much time. He opened his eyes and began to move, his vision scanning the swamps sharply, reading the terrain and its energies with no emotion.

He found the bodies almost immediately and crouched beside one that was different from the others. Kain estimated that the elf used to be a mage. His mouth was gaping, his skin darkened and as dry as a snake's shed skin, so his snarling even teeth shone bright white. The only perfection left in the body reduced to a mummified carcass drowning in the armor now too big.

Kain hesitated – his reluctance to witness Ciri's doing was too personal and nearly shook off his trance. He took a few deep breaths, cleaning his mind once again, and touched his fingers to the corpse's forehead.

Yennefer stopped her searching and eventually came to stand beside Kain while he focused on finding the truth. Save for Kain's breathing steadily becoming a bit more labored, there were no other sounds in the swamp. As if the magic that had once been there had taken nature with it, too. She also knew it wouldn't be long before it found its way back.

Kain squeezed his eyes shut as a jolt of pain shot through him, melting into something bordering on pleasure. Sexual pleasure that traveled to his loins and stirred his nerves. He felt the power, the elation, the euphoria of feeling the life being taken by force the victim was unable to withstand. His torment was the fire burning in her brighter and hungrier, and it overtook her.

_Her eyes are closed… her head thrown back… an emerald glow around her like a ghostly swamp light… and she is laughing… laughing… while he screams…_

Kain jerked back from the corpse, nearly falling on his ass before he caught himself getting up, staggering a few steps back, panting like he had just run a mile or two. His hand went to grasp the jerkin where his medallion was; it felt like it was still vibrating against his chest bone. He felt nauseous, and the bog air wasn't helping.

Yennefer hardly flinched as Kain jolted back from the body he'd been fixated on, hardly moving to help him since he'd righted himself. The look on his face and the way he clutched his medallion told her that what he was seeing or had seen wasn't going to be something she wanted to hear about. She dreaded the news. Nothing of her posture gave away that concern.

"Don't push yourself. You forget that only a day ago your life was hanging in the balance. If anything happens to you out here, I doubt Ciri will forgive me."

With the trance gone, the transferred sensations were leaving his body, and he could restore his breathing and pulse.

"I'm fine," he responded finally, lowering his hand from his chest. "Ciri... She lashed out. With anger and hatred and… something more. She was elated by her own power and couldn't stop herself." He thought back to his incident with Yennefer with a prick of guilt. "Or rather _wouldn't_. Like me…"

Yennefer watched him, perplexed and wary. "Care to elaborate?"

He looked her in the eye. "I have to tell you something that's been overdue. About what ran between you and me in the woods that day. I was so damn angry. I could've suppressed it... I just didn't want to. Your following me made me want to make you pay for that intrusion. Having Dijkstra in my head doesn't excuse me, and I know it. I want you to know it, too. I'm sorry. I would've taken it back."

Yennefer wasn't expecting the apology for their former mishaps. Especially while they were out in the bog taking care of another issue. She nodded to let him know that they'd moved on. Neither of them had been innocent.

"It's the past. I'm lucky I didn't anger you so much that you might have killed me," Yennefer mused, gesturing to the body. "If I didn't know what I was looking at, it might have been hard to distinguish."

She inspected the dead with more physicality than magic, scanning the ground for the soldier's weapon, sighing as she straightened up.

"At least we can confirm she was triggered. But why the change—did they blast her with magic? Were you able to see the entirety of their battle?"

There was a lot of it in the Bog and what had been before was dark, darker than most could dream of handling or would want to.

"What she did here is nothing like what I did to you, however," Kain said. "I overwhelmed your body with magic, and you passed out. This..." He took a deeper breath, searching for words. "She said it right - she sucked the life out of this one. And it brought her carnal pleasure. I haven't seen what she did to others, but I heard screams."

He looked around in search of other bodies.

Yennefer followed his gaze and then slowly started away from his side, navigating the dirt and fog, pushing aside anything that looked useless, until her foot collided with a hand. A hand not attached to a wrist – parts of his fingers missing. She bent to get a closer look and then shuffled over to the next limb. They were spread out like crumbs in circles. Large pools of black blood indicating where they'd died. She might have believed they'd exploded if she didn't know any better, but the cuts were so clean, so precise, that it was easy to see that Ciri had used her sword.

To think that she'd enjoyed it, that there had been some kind of intimacy to it – it scared Yennefer, for she didn't know Ciri that way.

"We should get back," Yennefer said and straightened up. "Unless there's more you'd like to do to paint an even bigger picture?"

Kain approached one of the lumps - it lacked a head and both arms were cut off, as well as one of the legs. His bowels were spread around the torso like grotesque ribbons.

Kain eyeballed the body, transfixed. Yennefer's voice sounded far away. He made himself look away from the remains and to the enchantress.

"I don't know why she did it," he confessed. "She wanted them to suffer - like she told us. All true. But... I don't know why it had to be this particular way of using her magic that's unlike her."

Yennefer needed to see for herself. She wanted answers and further explanation. She gracefully dropped to her haunches next to the dismembered body and buried her hands into the ground stained with blood. There was no life in him to speak of and whatever magic, if any, he did possess was no longer present, but the earth, and what remained of his past life in his lifeblood would allow her to see some semblance of a picture.

She closed her eyes and chanted until she could feel the sticky grains of sand cling to her hands like a second skin. The image of their brief battle came in flashes of green, grey and red. The soldiers hadn't stood a chance.

When one limb yielded no further result, she moved to the next body part for a different perspective until eventually, she found her way to the shriveled husk.

What she saw was as Kain had described. Nothing but the glow of magic and the look in Ciri's eyes. She really had enjoyed killing him. Yennefer couldn't blame her. Eredin and his men warranted the carnage, but the look on her face, the joy and dubious cruel pleasure was something Yennefer struggled to come to terms with.

She returned to Kain and shook the dirt from her hands.

"Something is missing from her eyes. If I didn't know any better – I might have surmised that she was being controlled. Easily explained with magic."

Kain glanced back at the dead mage, his snarling teeth, too white between the mummified dark lips.

He shook his head, "It makes no sense. I felt her pleasure. Her anger and her triumph. It was..."

He raised his eyes and met Yennefer's, his puzzled expression turning helpless.

"It was hers. What she felt was _hers_."

And yet, the eyes said something entirely different to Yennefer. Ciri had changed a lot since her return but the confidence she displayed this morning, what Yennefer saw in her mini-skirmish spoke volumes of something else completely.

She sighed.

"After you left to see that griffin of yours yesterday, did you two have words? Why would she come back here?"

"I was going to the woods to heal. I didn't know Griffin was there. She asked to come with, and I said no. She stayed behind when I left. I know nothing of what she was doing. I thought she'd spend time with you or Geralt."

"Why'd you say no? I assume she wasn't happy? Was there nothing you could read on her face that might have triggered anything? Her energy slightly off? Was she hurt?"

Kain gave her a weary look. "Of course she wasn't happy about my no. I wanted to be alone and told her the truth. She was sad. But I couldn't think it would trigger anything like that.

"She is impulsive - yes. She has a lot of anger in her that she herself admits to harboring. It's hard for her to deal with it, but no one can help her with it - it's not a disease or poison to cure her from. But this," he pointed at the corpses, "this is not just that anger. It's more. It's power and magic and its drive that's rooted in her emotions. But it doesn't seem like a possession. At least not until we figure out what exactly could be possessing her while letting her stay herself. It's unusual for a possession, wouldn't you agree?"

Yennefer wanted to cover every possible detail to lessen the fact that she herself hadn't noticed anything peculiar. She should have.

"It is unusual," she agreed. "Could be that she used so much of her magic against Eredin's men, too soon after the destroying the crones, that it's still inside her—that it hasn't had a chance to be expelled—and explains why she chose to seek you out last night. What better way to work something from your system than to exorcize energy the old-fashioned way?"

Ciri already had a taste of pleasure that day. That thought made Yennefer feel slightly better about what she'd seen.

It made Kain think again, and he couldn't help wondering whether Ciri felt a hunger for pleasure every time after using her magic. Whether she truly had these two so connected.

"You trained her as a child, Geralt told me," he said, focusing on Yennefer again. "What was she like then? Angry? Eager? What was her response to magic when you taught her?"

"Ciri's always been a bit angry. Angry at losing her family in the war, angry at not being good enough at something or feeling as if she picked it up too slowly, angry at being born a girl and not a boy to become a witcher mutant. She's hard on herself. Continually. And she's always running. From herself mostly."

Yennefer had to wonder why that was. Was it that she was afraid of who'd be there when she stopped? Seemed fitting that she'd developed magic that allowed her to jump such huge gaps in space. A parallel.

"But she's always been determined, and a very quick learner, so much so that I considered enrolling her in the sorcery academy."

Kain wondered what it would've made out of Ciri had Yennefer put her in that nest of power-hunger. He didn't really want to imagine, however - what they had here was bad enough.

"What about puberty?" he asked. "Any lascivious connections to magic - has she ever expressed those?"

Yennefer's features twisted from solemn to amused, an unwitting chuckle escaping her lips. If only Kain knew – if only Geralt.

"I wouldn't say there was ever any carnal connections to magic, as much as there was curiosity. I'm assuming you've heard the rumors that virgins can't be sorceresses?"

"No, I haven't. Among druids, even virgins can get far in the craft. And I was decent at it before I lost my virginity. Unless that rule works solely for women in Aretuza?" He narrowed his eyes inquisitively, "Did you have to stop being one to learn?"

"No, of course not," Yennefer answered, her smile widening. She was reminded of Ciri. "It's a misconception. Virgin or whore, if you have the affinity for magic – you can practice. It's those that don't know or have certain formations about virginity and purity that believe differently. As a child, Ciri had an almost compulsive fascination with the subject. However, as far as I was aware, she never got any such pleasure from my teachings beyond the emotional connection we formed in time."

Kain contemplated it. There could be some side-effects Ciri could have kept from Yennefer back in the day, but then he could trust the sorceress honestly knew nothing of it.

Unless she had gotten the truth out of Ciri's head and lied about it now in favor of keeping the girl's secrets.

It could be either one.

"All right," he sighed. "It could've come later, when she was out of your influence. And I don't believe I'm the one to ask her such questions. We should all be careful what we ask her about - she should not feel we deem her unwell. But we have to find a way to figure out what's happening to her. If—"

He held it for a moment, pondering the scary thought before giving it voice. He looked at Yennefer grimly.

"If it's her actual Hen Ichaer power waking up and changing her, there is scarcely anything we can do to reverse it."

"If it means to destroy her, I'll find a way to calm it." A promise Kain would know held merit if he'd heard the lengths Yennefer had gone to find Ciri.

The dying garden flashed in the back of Kain's mind, with a prick of dislike. He pushed the image away.

"This power is a part of her, in her very blood," he reasoned. "You cannot take away her blood, nor force her to be docile. You can cure Ciri from being Hen Ichaer no more than you can cure Geralt from being a witcher mutant."

"I would never expect Ciri to be docile or try to neuter her. That could never be, but don't underestimate the lengths I'd go to protect her." A lot of people could attest their misery to that.

Kain flashed a brief wry smile, averting his eyes. "Oh, I can't underestimate the lengths you'd go. I've seen some." He sighed, pushing it away again, and turned back to her. "None of us can do anything useful until we know what's wrong with her, if anything is wrong at all. So arguing about protecting her is useless at the moment."

Was he talking about Yennefer's pushiness or had he witnessed something else she wasn't aware of? Not that it mattered. She felt no guilt for what she did to find Ciri or for anyone that got hurt in that wake. She had been desperate.

"I'm not arguing, Kain, I'm declaring a fact. I'll do what I have to protect her. At any cost."

She glanced around, letting the subject fall away.

"Is there anything else needed or shall we return?"

At any cost, he thought with another bout of dismay.

"There were three of them," he told her. "I wonder if there are more units roaming this world in search of her. We'll have to be alert for any rumors of such."

"I'll send another message to Triss and let her know what's happened. I'm sure they're alert anyway, but… we never know."

"If the Lodge finds out about Ciri's change of character, it might turn against us. Whatever you tell Triss she passes on."

"I know that, Kain. The Lodge can't be trusted and I'll never discuss Ciri or her changes with them. All Triss will know is that the Wild Hunt attacked us here and that they need to watch their surroundings more intensely."

He strolled a few paces, contemplating. "Avallac'h is probably the one with the most information about Elder Blood properties, but I wouldn't put it past him to play on that and maybe turn it to his favor and our disadvantage."

"You don't trust him to have her best interests at heart?" Yennefer asked curiously.

"Aen Elle never stopped being the people he cares about. I'm afraid Ciri has never become more important than his true kin."

"He certainly has a low opinion of other races. But how can you be certain it hasn't changed? That he doesn't have some type of feeling toward Ciri? He's been helping her run from Eredin. His king. Why would he do that if not for love?"

Yennefer didn't trust Avallach, not in the slightest and she agreed with Kain about his view, but she was interested to know why he himself thought so. Had Ciri told Kain something she hadn't been able to share with Yennefer directly?

"Eredin killed his king," Kain corrected. "Avallac'h has no loyalty to him, but he's loyal to his people, his world. That battle in Oxenfurt - he was there, but killed no elf. He knocked them out with his magic, enabling the surviving ones to flee with their lives. He never fought against them, Yennefer. He never will. His only enemy is Eredin."

"Then we'd best keep a close eye on the elf upon his return. If he returns." There was a hope that he wouldn't, that he'd drift away and that would be one less person to worry about, but Yennefer also knew it was wishful thinking.

"We better get back before she finds out," Kain suggested.

"We best," Yennefer agreed, summoning up the portal. They passed through and appeared in the same spot they'd left from in the gardens.

"I'll find Geralt and fill him in on what we found out. You should try and get some rest, Kain, I think you overdid it with the recollection magic out there. You're still in need of healing and we can't afford to have you push yourself too much."

"I'm fully healed," he informed her. "Have been since the day before. You shouldn't worry about me."

He went past her and around the Temple to get back from another side.

* * *

Once Ciri had tended to the horses, Onyx and Roach included, she made her way back to the garden where Geralt still sat at the table.

Yennefer and Kain were gone, however.

Ciri wrapped her arms around Geralt's shoulders from behind and leaned in. "All by your lonesome, Witcher? I would have expected you and Yennefer to be glued to each other while we're here."

Geralt feared the urge to grab her and shake and demand what had gotten into his perfect Ciri who took pride in aspiring to be like him and kill solely when necessary. His Ciri who feared for people around her and wished to stop the war and violence. The urge was strong, but he had to be stronger.

He made himself smile. "She's not all that fond of my being glued to her unless it means staying in bed for days."

"There are beds here," Ciri smiled, resting her chin on Geralt's shoulder. "You should take advantage of that while you still can. Who knows if we'll have such luxuries in the next few weeks."

"I can't stay in bed for days, Ciri. It's nonsense. We're not alone, we both have things to think about."

She released him and straightened, shrugging. "You once told me I can't dwell on the coming war alone. To make room for other things."

He considered her with an inner worry and outer interest. "Have you?"

Ciri took a seat on the bench beside him, thoughtful for a moment. "I am trying. You should, too."

She looked around, at the garden and the few priestesses who were still out.

"Where are the others?"

He shrugged. "You know them. Both need alone time. Yennefer's probably in search of more books and Kain could be talking to Nenneke. They seem to like each other."

"And you, old man?" Ciri regarded him playfully. "Are you so tired from your battle with the Crones you do not want to spar with your daughter? It has been a while. Might be fun."

He finished his apple - feeling no taste of it - and tossed it under a rose bush. "Eager to fight, are you? Maybe I should take you back to Kaer Morhen and its training yard."

"Eager to relive the happiest time of my childhood – if only for a moment," she corrected him. "There has to be something about my sloppy technique you can criticize and have me improve."

"Sloppy technique?" he inquired ironically. "Haven't you bested three Hunters the other day?"

"With my unparalleled speed and magical prowess, yes. But I never made use of that back at Kaer Morhen, did I?"

"You didn't know how. You were just a little girl with strange dreams. No Elder Blood trouble back then."

"I was still hunted, so I wouldn't say no trouble." Ciri shrugged. "Only difference now is I am aware of the benefits as well as the not-so-pleasant aspects."

"What are those?" he narrowed his eyes. "How do you see it now?"

She looked at him as though he had missed something pivotal. "The jumping, of course. Being able to utilize my power in battle. It's a great advantage. I wouldn't be nearly as useful without it."

"And down-side?"

"Being hunted. Wanted for the wrong reasons."

The Witcher sighed. "They're desperate, Ciri. Anyone would be if their world was dying. Doesn't make them right, but shifts the perspective a bit, as Kain would say."

"You think I haven't considered that? Avallac'h instilled that in me many a time." She gave a sardonic smile. "And I might even be willing to help them, had it not been for the fact they plan to eradicate everyone living in this world to make room for themselves."

"It's not all that simple as it sounds, either," Geralt said. "This world has claws, too."

Ciri regarded Geralt shrewdly. "Are you trying to make me empathize with Eredin and his plight?"

"Not Eredin. This one has to die. There is no other way to stop him. But the rest of them - I don't know, Ciri. He is the snake's head. Without it they might have no teeth left to bite with."

"That's not the impression I got when I was there," she responded. "We're nothing but dirt to the lot of them. Slaves or corpses – that's the option they would give us. And believe me, Eredin did not start that philosophy."

"But he's the one driving it. Ge'els stopped supporting him, as he told us. He might share his knowledge about the regicide with others who loved the king - there might be many."

"So you agree with them then? I should sacrifice myself to bring them to safety? They see it as my duty. Do you?"

"What exactly makes you ask me that?!" Geralt demanded, exasperated. "I never said that. What I said was they might lose most of their will to invade and fight us if Eredin died. Don't you agree it might be possible?"

"Possible, certainly. But not likely. You said it yourself – they are desperate. They know they will die unless they move elsewhere or someone stops the frost."

"Are we truly the only world they can count on? Can't they find a better target?"

"And who would bring them there, you think?" Ciri arched a brow. "Their target doesn't matter as much to them as their means of transportation."

"They have several mages," he scoffed. "Their skills surpass ours, so they might find a way if they need to."

"You think more highly of them than I do," Ciri scoffed as well, folding her arms over her chest.

"I never thought highly of them. I merely admit they have advanced magic. Had they put more effort into finding ways to save themselves rather than fixate on you, they might've been safe already."

"They're too stubborn to see past what they think of as their property."

Ciri reached for an apple. Some of the morning's breakfast was still laid out.

"But we can bring it up with Avallac'h. If anyone has an idea of what trials and errors they've gone through in the past, it's him."

"I'm sure he has ideas. But does he ever share them?"

"Only if it's in his interest to do so."

Geralt gave her a sardonic look. "How much do you know about his interests?"

"I know he is loyal to his people and that everything he does is in favor of them. He wants to save his world. His kin."

"And he's been honestly grooming you to be their sacred cow all these years." Geralt clicked his tongue, disgusted.

"He's been grooming me to be their savior," Ciri corrected reluctantly, taking a bite of her apple and rising to her feet.

"You don't treat saviors like that," he murmured.

"Oh, you do if you're Aen Elle and your savior is a filthy human."

He studied her. "You two are no longer friends, I take it?"

"We never were. I simply thought differently. You know this."

Avallac'h had changed a lot since Ciri reunited with her family. His hold on her had become too tight. Suffocating.

"What do you think now?"

"I think I am just a means to an end for him."

Geralt perked up an eyebrow, "You mean you're still that sacred cow."

Ciri scowled. "Stop saying cow! You're going to give me a complex."

He laughed despite himself. "A very beautiful, majestic cow," he jibed.

Her eyes were still narrowed, but her anger not real.

"Mhmm. You're lucky I am not Yennefer. She would have turned you into a toad by now."

He chortled and tore a piece from a pastry. "Mages."

"You summoned me, Milord," Yennefer teased as she approached the two, giving a lazy bow, joining in on their joviality, happy to see not everything had changed.

"Where have you been keeping yourself?" Ciri asked, eyeing the sorceress curiously.

"The library. I found a few interesting texts in Nenneke's collection."

"On The Hunt? Something that can help us?"

"Unfortunately not," Yennefer mused. "Something more for myself."

"What would that be?" Geralt leered. "How to keep your skin tight and your behind perky forever or a hundred and one use for algae?"

"You think I need help in that area?" Yennefer retorted, arching a brow, her lips twitching into a half-teasing smile, daring him to give her the wrong answer.

"It's not about what I think when it's you sorting through scrolls and parchments," he grinned.

"And yet," she said, inching in closer so that she could bend down and meet his eyes. "You're the only one making hazardous suggestions."

"Haven't made any. Unless you're scared of algae."

"Not at all," Yennefer murmured, her eyes narrowing with mock threat. "Maybe later you can show me where you believe I need to apply algae."

Ciri wrinkled her nose. "I am all for you two getting back together, but... not right in front of me."

The Witcher pulled a sly mien, eyeing Yennefer. "I suppose I can show a couple of places, all right. If Ciri excuses me that sparring session we were about to have."

Ciri wrinkled her nose again, taking another bite of her apple as she headed towards the rest of the garden. "Certainly. I'll find other means to entertain myself."

Geralt's smile dimmed once Ciri turned her back walking away, and he wasted no more time leading Yennefer back inside the Temple and to her room where she could fill him in on their daughter's little adventure.

* * *

Kain took his time strolling around the back gardens of the Temple, brooding over the brutal visions. His mind rolled the scene over and over while he struggled to find any indication of Ciri not being herself.

It was a horrid display of power and cruel gloating of it, but it was so frighteningly... her.

Kain wondered what Mousesack would've said on this.

"Headache?" Ciri asked, falling into step beside Kain. She'd searched her senses and felt him wandering.

His face looked pinched with discomfort, his brow slightly furrowed. Unusual for him.

He was so deep in his heavy thoughts he nearly jumped like a spooked cat when she spoke.

"No, just thinking," he said, releasing the breath that got hitched in his throat in surprise.

Ciri couldn't help but laugh, the surprise evident all over his face. "Must have been some deep thoughts if you didn't hear me coming."

"I didn't expect company," he admitted and indicated the yard with a wave of his hand. "Not many walk here during the day, as it turns out. Majority of their chores lies elsewhere."

Ciri grasped his outstretched arm and brushed his sleeve up with her thumb, seeking the scar she had left there after closing his wounds in the swamp. They were gone. She stared, mesmerized, running her thumb over the very spot the scar had been as if wondering if it had just been concealed. "You're a superb healer."

Her touch sent a tingling impulse through his arm. "It's not me," he corrected. "I ask the nature and it helps like a loving mother would."

Ciri hemmed in mild agreement, eyes still fixed on his arms. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more than close the wounds."

"You saved my life. There's nothing more than that."

"For a moment." Ciri's eyes took on that glassy quality again; she was withdrawing into herself. "I cursed you. You could have been living in peace and quiet. But your blood called to mine. And I was greedy." She released Kain's arm, snapping out of her state of deep thoughts. She smiled as if suddenly a little self-conscious. "Hm, not sure where that came from."

He smiled and took her chin in his hand, their eyes locking. "You brought me to my family. I could never fault you for that. No one would."

Ciri's face softened with gratitude, reassured by Kain's words. "I suppose I did. Funny how these things work."

"Not so much when you just let life show you the path." He withdrew his hand and resumed his stroll. "The hard part can be trusting it."

"And if life takes you to a horrible, frightening place?"

"Like what?"

Ciri shrugged. "I suppose the better question would be, how can you be certain life is leading you down a path you need to go or if you are just making the wrong choices?"

"That knowledge is not in your head. It's in your heart. It always knows better. It should feel right. And sometimes it takes a while before you can find that feeling. All the thoughts and doubts running around in your head own your attention, and you forget how to ask your heart."

Ciri's heart had always led her to trouble and pain. At least, initially. But she supposed, once she stepped back and was able to see the bigger picture, a lot of what had seemed like reckless decisions had taken her where she needed to go. Back to Geralt and Yennefer.

"You learned that as a child?"

"The theory - yes. Practice takes all your life."

Ciri slipped her hand into Kain's, like they were two young lovers on a casual stroll.

"Do you think we will live longer than other people? If we don't die by the sword, I mean."

"I never thought about it." He shrugged subtly and peered at her with interest. "Would you like that?"

"I don't know," Ciri admitted truthfully, brow slightly furrowed. "I'd like to outlast all my enemies. So I can see them perish. But I want to go before Geralt and Yennefer." She paused. "Don't tell Geralt. It will make him worry."

"There's hardly any child that wants to outlast his parents. It goes both ways. To your luck, both of them have the potential to live for a very long time if they survive their battles."

"They will." Ciri was adamant about that. "They've promised to never leave me. So they shan't."

Kain thought there were plenty of things that could force them to break their promise, but refrained from voicing it. Her volatile temper called for caution.

* * *

Geralt lowered heavily on a chair, his elbows propping on his knees as he hunched forward. What Yennefer told him was awful, impossible. It couldn't be Ciri.

Not his Ciri.

"What... What do you think it could be?" he asked eventually in such a quiet voice Yennefer had to strain to make it out. He raised his head slowly and looked at her. Pleading. "What happened to her?"

Yennefer kept her voice low. "We figure that it might be a type of possession and that the use of too much magic might have triggered something in her. I can't be sure. I— I didn't notice anything strange in her since our return from the Bog. Unless we're to take into account her inability to show any patience toward Nenneke. Then again, Ciri has never been known for patience. She also doesn't want to feel like a child. There could be a lot of factors."

She sighed.

"You've seen her real mother display magic, right? Do you remember there being anything remotely carnal about what was happening to her?"

"No!" Geralt scowled, sorting through his memories of the Cintra princess and her burst of magic. "She only let it out when she thought her lover would die. She tried to protect him - much like Ciri back at Kaer Morhen. Pavetta's magic was triggered by despair and fear for the man she loved."

"What about you?" Yennefer asked thoughtfully. "Have you ever cut something into half and experienced blinding bliss? Do you think you would taking down Eredin?"

The Witcher gave her a long look where both bafflement and judgment were splashing. "You want to know whether killing things makes me hard? No. Is it different with you?"

"No," Yennefer supplied. She knew that already, but there had been times she hadn't witnessed and she wasn't all-seeing even if she did make a point to know as much of his business as she could. She had no other thoughts on the subject. "I guess, all we can do now is keep an eye on her and hope that, if it is linked to her magic, it'll quieten down eventually."

"But her magic is only growing with time," he argued. "What if whatever bad effects it has grow with it? What... What do we do?"

"Then I find a way to make sure she doesn't hurt herself and silence the magic within. Dimeritium works on me, it's only a matter of finding what would work on her."

Geralt heaved a long sigh, ran his fingers through his hair, and lowered his face into his hands wearily. "It's Elder Blood, Yen. You can't silence it. Only death does."


	60. Chapter 60

**_~WRITERS' NOTE:_**

**_Greetings, MoreBonesPlz! We're happy to receive your regular reviews and are thrilled to know your thoughts. Thank you for sharing, it means a great deal._**

**_It's true as you noted that Kain and Yennefer still have different views on some things, but yes, both are willing to not focus on such for Ciri's sake. Kain is not fond of Yennefer's habit of doing literally anything, no matter how grave, for those she loves, but he understands it, while Yennefer hasn't yet had a chance to fully grasp Kain's character. But well, the story isn't over yet. _**

**_Ciri's past life remains mostly a mystery for both her "parents", except for things she told Geralt and Yen separately, which wasn't too much. The part about her being Falka is still not something she likes to recall and talk about, so what is happening now to her moods and powers worries them all a lot. Kain, given his ability to sense people and with things she has told him privately about her story, knows there's still a dark side she hasn't worked through. Geralt and Yen know it, too, and fear there's not much they can help with. Indeed, if we look back to everything the girl has endured, it's amazing how she can still fare rather well. She's had no chances to work through her traumas and heal yet - in the books it simply seems to be brushed under the rug, but it feels a little too much to just skip over. So we shall see what happens. Thank you for being on this ride with us! We appreciate it a lot._**

**_Thank you all who still reads, enjoys and comments! We realize it's becoming a quite huge saga, but there's so much goodness yet to be explored and discovered, we can't stand the temptations to indulge. We have no words to describe how happy it makes us that the story is loved. ~_**

* * *

They walked in silence a while. It was a nice day with the sun shining and birds singing from the treetops. And for a little while, Ciri felt like a normal girl with a normal boy doing something, well, normal.

"Nenneke seems to know you well. Have you been here many times before?"

"Just a few times over the years. First time as a witcher - my friend needed help. And later - with groups of elves from Brokilon in need of temporal sanctuary."

"I don't remember there being many people looking for refuge when I lived here," Ciri said. "Yennefer was the talk of the temple even months after her arrival. Nothing else exciting going on."

"The priestesses stayed away from us, aside from bringing food and tending to the wounded. I didn't spy on them to find out whether they discussed us. Mostly I talked to Nenneke about her herbs and druid magic. She never asked about anything personal, nor did I."

"Most of them are too scared of Nenneke to do anything she would consider inappropriate. Visiting a man's bedchamber would be exactly that," Ciri snorted.

He couldn't help a laugh. "Did she tell you that? It's not true. She has never limited any priestesses in their desires. Each of them knows how to prevent unwanted consequences. I believe Melitele doesn't forbid pleasures, nor does Nenneke."

"Just me then?" Ciri arched one brow. "She forbade me from seeing the one boy who resided at the temple when I did. And she tried avidly to kick me out of your room while you were unconscious. As though worried I wouldn't be able to help myself and would mount you right then and there."

"I don't think it was her worry when it came to me. As for that other boy - I can't know. You were much younger back then, if I'm correct? Her minding your purity made sense, she was taking care of you."

"My purity." Ciri couldn't help but laugh. "Do all men think women filthy if they are not virgins?"

"I can't speak for all men, now, can I."

"So what do you think?"

"I don't know," he muttered, uncomfortable, and rubbed his neck. "Filthy is the wrong word. But as for... a loss of certain innocence - that's fair for both women and men, I guess."

"The loss of innocence is from growing up and leaving childhood behind. Not sex." At least, Ciri believed it to be that way.

She eyed Kain, trying to decipher the expression on his face. She found she couldn't. "Are you angry? Because I insisted to be the one to warm your bed rather than a priestess?"

"I'm not. How can I be angry at something I wasn't aware of?"

"You're aware of it now."

"But it's in the past. It happened when I was unconscious - I couldn't have felt any anger then, and now it calls for no reaction because I still can't remember."

She watched him, brow furrowed. "Your mind works so differently from mine," she mused. "I don't always understand you."

It amused him a little. "What can't you understand? That I feel it's useless to judge something of the past?"

"Yes. It's strange." She paused, simultaneously stopping their walk. "Don't get me wrong, Kain, I am glad you are not angry. But your lack of reactions continues to puzzle me."

"Now I don't understand," he frowned lightly.

"You're so in control of your emotions at all times. At least it seems that way. Always level-headed and cool. I don't think I have ever seen you angry."

Annoyed, yes. Lots of times during their first days together at Skellige. But never truly angry.

"I don't imagine I will ever be able to contain myself like you do."

Kain thought of Yennefer and that deeply rooted satisfaction he had felt when he'd punished her.

He felt a bit sick and averted his eyes.

_Child of Elder Blood_, the Crone's voice rang in the back of his mind. _Naughty, naughty child!_ Cackling. That knowing cackling.

"I'm not always in control," he said. "You merely don't know me that well."

"No. I suppose I don't."

Ciri felt for that stab of disappointment for that realization. It should have appeared in the pit of her stomach. But there was nothing.

Maybe she was growing as a person? That felt good.

Kain sensed, however, that her response hinted of some sort of disappointment.

He sighed. "We're just different, you and I. In how we respond and react. You... You're like fire, you can burst into flames from the tiniest spark sometimes. Your anger, as well as other emotions, are always on the surface waiting for that spark.

"And I can keep mine back for longer, until at some point it gets too much, and it bursts through the locked fences. I'm not perfect, Ciri. I just had longer practice at keeping a mask on and swallowing anger back."

"Like fire, hm?" Ciri couldn't help but smile. "That makes me sound...passionate." She reached out, resting one hand on Kain's cheek. "And you look pretty perfect to me."

He smirked bitterly. "I don't even look it. A half-blood stuck between two worlds that won't fully accept him. Not human enough and not elf enough. Not everything is how it seems, princess."

"Well, as I am sure you have noticed we're a band of misfits. Witcher, sorceress, dwarf, and whatever Dandelion is." Ciri grinned. "You fit in just fine."

"For as long as you know I'm far from perfect."

"If you say so." Ciri didn't believe that for a second. "Want to head back with me? I could do with some of that spiced wine."

Kain didn't mind heading back. He felt no appetite for wine, however.

* * *

"You don't know that," Yennefer said, unwilling to fall into the hole that there could be nothing she could do. There was always something she could do. Always. "You can't know that it's final. For decades, we believed a golden dragon to be nothing but a myth meant to marvel children and adults alike. And it's not. We've seen it with our own eyes. There is a balance in nature, Geralt, it's a matter of finding the right one to even it out. And if it comes to it, if it means to protect her, I will find it."

He was silent for a long moment, either brooding or just being numb. Eventually, he raised his head again, and he looked rather worn out.

"Avallac'h is the only competent one on this matter. He's been studying Lara's genes for centuries. He should know the most of what is possible to know about it."

"And you think, given what he wants from her or wants to do, that he'd likely share such information for free? The only person he talks to is Ciri. Unless you have a rapport with him?"

"I don't. But I can find ways to make him talk. If I really have to."

Yennefer smiled slightly.

"I'll leave that up to you. I fear my diplomacy only extends to Kings, nobles, and common men, and even that has its restrictions."

He pondered for a bit. "Did you ever... peek in her head?" he asked, and was sickened at the hope in his voice. "Did she ever know about it?"

"She only ever knew when I told her," Yennefer said. "But she was also only a child back then and had no idea how to force me out – let alone that she could. I could try, I suppose."

He looked at her with doubt. "Have you never tried it after we got her back? Only back when she was a child?"

"Of course I've done it since she's been back. I had no problems. I'm surprised you'd suggest it because it's never been something you've enjoyed me doing to you."

He gave a helpless shrug. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. I wouldn't wish it upon anyone, especially her, but it might be our only chance to find out whether she's all right or not."

"If it's needed, I'll do it."

He gave her a grave look. "If she finds out, it might not end well. Be careful, Yennefer. We can't lose her trust. If we do - we lose her."

"She expects me to be intrusive at times. I need only to play my part.'

The Witcher kept staring at her, dead serious. "Be careful. Whatever she's been before, she might react differently now. Play your part, but play it safe."

Yennefer smiled lightly to assure him.

"Kain seems to have healed. When will we be returning to join the rest?"

"We don't know what's wrong with Ciri," he stated, irked. "I don't think going back right away is a good idea. I want to know more before we do."

"How are you going to clarify that to her? Kain's the reason we stayed this long to begin with, and Kain has said he is fine a numerous amount of times. Ideas?"

"We'll worry about it when she argues," he said, getting up from the chair, and headed for the door. "Better not waste time and rather spend it with her."

They found Ciri and Kain in the garden, strolling the paths between the flowerbeds.

"Where does Nenneke keep the wine?" Ciri asked Geralt and Yennefer, squinting against the sun. "I could use a drink."

"We're guests here," Geralt reminded. "If you ask, they'll bring you some."

"Or we could take a walk down to their cellar and help ourselves," Yennefer suggested, smiling brilliantly at Ciri before starting off in the necessary direction.

"They'll bring _you_ some," Ciri corrected Geralt, a mischievous smile claiming her mouth as she darted off after Yennefer.

* * *

"Do you do this every time you're here, Yen? That might be why Nenneke doesn't like you."

"I'm afraid it's only one of many reasons," Yennefer responded, flashing a smile.

The cellar was as orderly as Yennefer remembered and not a single cobweb lingered in the shadowed corners, the bottles stored there wiped down as if brewed that very day. Nenneke hardly allowed for idle hands in her temple, making sure that everyone had something to do between their prayers and teachings and that her guests only received the best.

She scanned the handwritten labels upon the shelves and snatched up what she knew was of Nenneke's finest wine.

"Will it do?" Yennefer asked, handing it to Ciri to inspect.

Ciri eyed the label but had no idea what to search for to identify a decent wine. She shrugged. "I'm not picky."

So, yes, it would do.

"I am willing to risk Nenneke's wrath in order to drink this out in the sun. Come on."

"It seems as if from the moment we got here, that you've been more than willing to test Nenneke's limits. I assume you've yet to exchange words?"

"No, we've spoken."

Ciri frowned. "I'm not testing boundaries. I just want autonomy over my own body. And Nenneke sometimes challenges that."

"You can't blame her. It's taken us all a lot to realize how much you've grown—changed."

Yennefer's right hand came up, and within a second a golden glow had engulfed the both of them, depositing them in a place not too far from the temple that they'd found years ago during their practises searching for magic pockets within the invisible walls of nature.

There was no magic in the spot, apart from the memories it had housed and the healing it gifted them in the past. It hadn't changed much, except that it was overgrown with forestry, thick and thin branches looming over the hot milky water like a canopy, dotted with delicate white flowers charged by the slices of sunlight that snuck through its intricate web.

Beautiful.

If things were different for Geralt and Yennefer she could have brought him here.

The love they could have made.

"I hope you don't mind, I thought us girls could use an hour to ourselves," Yennefer mused, popping a few buttons on her top, slowly shrugging out of it to hang it on the nearest branch clear of the water.

Ciri didn't mind. In fact, she was rather delighted by the change of scenery and the chance to spend some alone-time with Yennefer.

"It's our secret place," she remarked with a smile, remembering how Yennefer had brought her there as a child when they needed to get away from the hustle and bustle of the temple. "I forgot."

"Then you're in definite need of reminding," Yennefer said softly, moving to take the wine from Ciri so that her daughter could undress.

Yennefer set the bottle at the base of the tree close to the water's edge, wedging it in the dirt so it wouldn't fall over, and stripped the remainder of her attire before slowly wading into the water.

She'd taken only one or two steps before the water was waist-high, and another until she was floating, her arms lightly churning at her sides.

Ciri undressed with none of the reservations she had felt as a child, leaving her clothes in a pile on one of the rocks before descending into the water. It was warm. Not quite as scolding as a bath could be, but still highly pleasant.

"Do the priestesses know about this place?"

"Never asked," Yennefer replied honestly. "I'd be astounded if they didn't. Hot water – this water in particular contains a lot of natural healing minerals." Yennefer splashed her lightly. "Soak it in." A reach, but maybe, it would help temper that mood.

Ciri obeyed, lowering herself fully, even her head, beneath the surface. She emerged a few seconds later, sweeping her wet hair from her face to eye Yennefer speculatively. "Did you receive word from Novigrad?"

"None that I've seen. I'll check our room again once we return to the temple."

Yennefer swam over to the water's edge, using the mud beneath her hands to anchor herself, reaching for one hand to grip the bottle, the cork popping free of its neck as though she'd sprouted an extra set of invisible hands.

She brought the bottle to her lips and then returned to Ciri, keeping it well above the water to offer to her since it was part of the reason they'd come and alcohol had a tendency of weakening one's psyche.

It would allow Yennefer to slip into her head easier – perhaps even unnoticed.

"If there is no message, perhaps we should assume the worst and go back immediately," Ciri suggested, taking the bottle offered to her and having a generous sip.

"No need. If trouble was on the horizon or on our doorstep, Triss will make sure we get the message. She is many things, but… she does care. How'd your heart-to-heart with Nenneke fare?"

"Unless she is prevented to do so by, say, death," Ciri said, taking another sip before handing the bottle back to Yennefer. "Nenneke? It was fine. Promised me I always have a sanctuary at the temple."

"Did you two discuss anything else? Like Kain, perhaps?"

"Only Kain. And what we could do to heal him." Ciri lowered herself under the water again, watching Yennefer curiously. "Why do you ask?"

"I know you seemed to have a problem with how she was dictating your presence in his room. I was wondering if you broached the subject with her – that's all. You're older now… adult."

Yennefer took a large sip of the wine bottle, offering it to Ciri in case she wanted a little more. With the heat, the alcohol would only cut into their systems quicker.

"I didn't. Doubt I could change her mind either way."

Ciri took the bottle again, waiting to drink until she'd found a place in the spring where she could perch.

"I'm surprised she allows you and Geralt to be alone together."

"It's not about changing her mind, it's about being able to speak about what bothers you. You're not a child anymore, Ciri, and although we're staying under her roof temporarily, that doesn't mean that you need to roll over and show your belly." Yennefer chuckled softly, opting to stay where she was, floating. "She doesn't and didn't allow us to be together. We just were."

"I told her with actions rather than words," Ciri said, shrugging. "And Geralt doesn't mind? He always seems so... respectful of Nenneke's wishes."

"If we want to be together, we'll be together. For that reason alone, Geralt and I are both willing to adapt as is needed to keep the peace while Nenneke heals. Not to mention that he hardly remembers me, and what he does remember, he doesn't actually know what to do with."

Yennefer sighed and disappeared beneath the water. When she surfaced, she gently wiped the water from her eyes and swam the short distance to join Ciri on her perch.

"Geralt tells me you snuck into Kain's room last night…"

"He did, huh?" Ciri wasn't all that surprised. Geralt had seemed quite traumatized after the incident. "We've slept next to one another many times. I didn't think it would cause such an uproar."

"In the nude?" Yennefer asked.

"Almost." Ciri's eyes narrowed. "Do you find that to be a problem?"

"Should I?"

"I think that would be quite hypocritical."

"It would be," Yennefer agreed. "I didn't know you and Kain progressed to getting naked when you sleep together?"

"I did it to give him warmth. Nenneke's orders. Only she wanted a priestess instead of me.

"But it was nice. Made me feel close to him. I wanted to feel like that again."

"And that was all?" Yennefer asked softly. "You weren't expecting to or wanting to… couple?"

"Expecting? No, absolutely not. Kain has never shown any interest in that where I am concerned," Ciri said. "And if it was ever to happen, it would probably not be when he has just started to recover from great physical trauma."

"Men don't plan their interest. Sometimes it arises when you least expect it. Were you hoping?"

"That night? No." Ciri drank, frowning. "Did Geralt tell you to ask me all these questions? He doesn't actually think I meant to lay with _him_, does he?"

"No," Yennefer asked with a laugh, reaching for the wine she'd left untouched for a while to take another generous sip. "It's just my own curiosity. But even if he thinks that, is it really that fanciful to think that you might want to lay with Kain?"

"It's not. And I've been fairly open about that. But it doesn't matter as long as one party is not willing."

"No, it doesn't matter. Nevertheless, it doesn't mean that when you come to Kain's bed naked, that it wouldn't be the first thought to come to Geralt's mind. You forget that if you were anyone else, Geralt himself might have welcomed the intrusion and perhaps even given in to it himself."

Yennefer took another pretend sip and then extended the bottle toward Ciri to take again.

"We're not judging you, Ciri."

Ciri frowned again, not understanding. "What is your point? That I must not go to Kain's bed in case Geralt might have taken his place?"

"No, there is no point. I asked because I was curious. You already answered the question. I was explaining Geralt's side." Yennefer twisted around, stretched, and set the bottle down in the dirt at the water's edge. "You seemed… defensive about it."

"Yes," Ciri murmured as if it was obvious. "Because you keep asking questions."

"Since when do you have a problem with questions from me?"

"I just don't know why I have to explain myself all of a sudden."

Yennefer said there was no judgement but it certainly felt like there was. And Ciri couldn't tell whether that came from her or Geralt.

Ciri rose and made to get out of the water.

Yennefer scowled slightly as Ciri made to get out, letting the magic take hold to probe her mind, to see how she was feeling and why she was suddenly so prickly with a conversation she wouldn't otherwise have worried about.

Ciri froze her progress out of the water when she felt a familiar nudge to her mind. Yennefer had done this to her before, often when Ciri had been under the sorceress' tutelage, but usually, the act was close to imperceptible.

This time Ciri felt it. And she felt horribly invaded.

Just like Yennefer had taught her, Ciri slammed her mental shields shut.

"Not satisfied with my answers? What exactly are you looking for?"

Yennefer's eyes fixed on Ciri, stunned by the force of the magic within her, and the fact that she'd been able to knock the sorceress from her head with such ease. That hadn't happened in the past, or since she'd returned. Despite what she'd told Geralt, there had been a number of times where she'd ventured into the girl's head for a closer look.

"A meaning to understand how I've affronted you," Yennefer fibbed, unapologetic and relaxed.

"Then ask," Ciri said firmly, climbing out. "You're good at that."

She wrung water from her hair once she was back on her feet again, turning to face Yennefer with an exasperated expression.

"I made a mistake, alright? A miscalculation. Won't happen again. So let us just leave it."

"I would have if I felt you'd have answered me directly," Yennefer said.

Even with the short touch of minds, Yennefer had picked up on the influence of heavy magic. But there was no absolute way to know if it was a possession or merely her magic as of today. There would be no clear way to tell unless they physically saw it or her personality altered completely.

"You're arguing with me as if I've scolded you, Ciri."

Yennefer moved toward the same edge she was, picking up the bottle of wine as not to tip it over into the pool of hot water.

"That's not the case. You're a grown woman, with adult feelings. At breakfast this morning you seemed to accept that with all the glee of a child and a kiss, and now…"

Yennefer had no idea what to make of it or her quick changes in attitude. Was it just that she was unsatisfied and feeling inflamed in areas? Yennefer could understand that as when she'd been without the affections of a man for a certain amount of time she longed for that fulfillment, too.

"Well, this morning no one was asking me intimate details about my lacking sex life," Ciri retorted. "Can't I have anything to myself? Must everyone dig and have an opinion before I even truly know what is going on myself? What happens between Kain and I is between the two of us. Our business. Not yours, not Geralt's, not Nenneke's, or Avallac'h's. Not unless I decide to open up about it." Ciri went for her clothes to pull them on, unmindful that they would get wet. "And right now I don't want to."

"Then don't," Yennefer said and trailed her to the rock, setting the wine down at Ciri's feet, her voice softening to try and soothe the offense she'd caused. "Would you feel better if I ask forgiveness?"

Ciri sighed. "It's not necessary. There is no forgiveness needed."

She struggled to get into her leather trousers, the material clinging to her wet skin and refusing to let go.

"I'm not a child anymore, Yennefer. Total transparency can no longer be expected. My thoughts are my own, as are my deeds, until I share them with you. Which I probably will eventually, but... in my own time. Alright?"

"All right," Yennefer agreed, touching a hand to Ciri's naked hip, letting the pulse of warmth charge through her until she was thoroughly dry and could pull her leather pants up unhindered. Yennefer smiled slightly when the task was done, repeated the trick with herself and proceeded to walk over to her own clothes.

"Was it as you remembered?" Yennefer asked, taking her time to dress.

Yennefer's trick helped greatly, Ciri had to admit. She now dressed without problem.

"My feet can reach the bottom now. That's different. But other than that, yes. It seems this place has not changed at all in our absence."

Ciri's body hadn't rejected her hand or touch of magic, so that was a good sign. Another means in which Yennefer might have picked up on anything meant to war against her. She was glad there was none.

"Once we've taken care of the Wild Hunt, hopefully, we may return to make use of it again in celebration."

Yennefer pulled on her clothing in record time, did the laces on her boots, and when she was done, summoned the portal she knew Ciri didn't need and patiently waited on her to use it, before doing so herself.

* * *

"So, you don't think it's possession?"

Kain gave a subtle shake of his head. "Unfortunately, it's very hard to tell for sure, Geralt. All that anger and rage she put into that attack is what she openly admits to harboring."

"What about the... pleasure of the kill? Have you experienced the same?"

"No," Kain said, and pondered briefly. "Satisfaction from killing some particular scums of men - yes, there was that sometimes. But the kind of pleasure she got from it - no. Never happened to me." He thought back to the dark spark of glee he felt with Yennefer, and there was another prick of shame.

Geralt didn't like the uncertainty he read on both Yennefer and Kain. It was impossible to find a solution when the problem was unknown. He regarded his brother. "You two are supposed to be alike through Elder Blood," he insisted. "Are you not?"

Kain gave him a bewildered look. "I don't know what to tell you, truly. Even our powers manifest differently. She jumps through space and worlds with ease while I still feel as if it's out of my reach. She has those trances that are so unlike mine where she loses control and can destroy everything around her. She busts people and creatures with her power while I've never done that."

"It's more like you use your powers differently," Geralt suggested. "It's habit rather than the power itself."

"Maybe. Though..." He paused, conflicted.

Geralt perked up, both hopeful and dreading. "What?"

Kain sighed. "That anger... I do have it. I just control it better - but then comes a moment when it bursts out. It's hard to control myself then."

Geralt chuckled softly. "You're exaggerating now. It's a flaw in every man. We all get angry. We all can get violent." His face changed faintly as if a new idea dawned on him. He peered at Kain hopefully. "Maybe it's just that. She got scared for us, for people, she had it all pent up with Novigrad threat and Oxenfurt attack. And when she saw them, it all burst through. Whatever else she got from that - she's a young woman with no outlets for her lecherous needs, as Yen put it. It all simply came together at that moment and mixed with her magic."

"Sounds plausible," Kain said, but his frown wore doubt. "I truly hope it is that."

"She told me that Avallac'h used to explain her temper with Elder Blood," Geralt added, feeling better the more he thought about it being simpler than they feared. "He's the most competent of us all, so it should be true."

"If we presume all things he tells her are true."

Geralt winced. "Nevertheless, it makes sense."

"You think it's wise to push the blame for anger issues onto the Elder Blood? It frees from guilt and any boundaries, and it's a dangerous road, Geralt."

"How would any more guilt help her?" Geralt argued. "She carries enough as it is."

Kain narrowed his eyes, "Remember that man with a crossbow on the Bald Mountain? She lamented his death, sure, but she got over it rather soon."

"You prefer her crippled with self-loathing?"

"No. I'd prefer her to remember how grave the consequences of her power can be and how there is a grand responsibility that comes with a power like hers."

"She knows that!"

"I've hurt Yennefer," Kain reasoned, his gaze hardening. "I didn't have to and she meant no harm aside from caution and her own curiosity, but I didn't stop myself. I didn't want to. I wanted her to pay, and I made her pay for invading my space and imposing her presence when I craved to be alone. And I loved it. I felt that satisfaction I'm ashamed of now. And I regretted it then, I still do, and I wish to never forget that so it would guide me to make a better choice next time someone annoys me."

Geralt was silent for a while, reflecting on it with a deep frown. Then he nodded curtly. "You will do fine. So will she." He regarded his brother. "We're debating her morals here but those Riders she killed were monsters who want her for no noble causes. They are the ones who took her from me for long years we could've had. They come here uninvited and wreak havoc and death everywhere they ride. While judging her actions and cruelty here, we're forgetting that they deserved what came to them. Every bit of it."

Kain studied him while mulling it over. He could've said it was a dangerous path to deem oneself a judge of who deserved what fate and torment; and that playing judge could lead to more violence and death and widening that vicious circle instead of breaking it.

He chose to keep it in.

* * *

Ciri reclaimed the bottle once they were back in temple grounds, allowing herself a deep swig before focusing on Yennefer again. "Will you check for messages now?"

"Yes," Yennefer replied, heading off in the direction of their lodging. "I'll find you if it says anything of importance."

"You better," Ciri murmured, watching Yennefer's retreating back before disappearing into the garden again.

The table was still there, but all the food and dishes had been cleared away. Ciri took a seat and placed the half-empty bottle on the table.

She'd always craved a time of rest with her family, but now that she had it, it felt off. Because the threat of The Hunt was still looming over them all. They couldn't forget.

Would it be possible, Ciri wondered, to grab Eredin the next time she saw him and jump him away? To drop him before they entered a new world, leaving him in that space in between, forever floating or falling into the abyss of eternity?

It was a good thought. One that made her smile and fiddle with her dimeritium bracelet, toying with the idea of taking it off and luring the King into a trap...

* * *

The room was as she'd left, only the bed was made, the floor swept and any sign of the sorceress's presence there was non-existent. This was the first time she'd travelled without her usual paraphernalia. Yennefer scanned the room, checking the floor in case a note might have dropped and been lost under the frame, beneath the pillow and the little table between the two single beds that held the candles. Also on the table was parchment, a quill with ink and the book she'd been reading since her arrival two days ago. She leafed through the pages, checking to make sure that there was nothing tucked inside before conceding to the inevitable.

She returned to Oxenfurt, to the same room she'd been sleeping in when she'd been called away to help her family. Only there was someone else in her bed.

Triss.

Her eyes were closed, the dress she was wearing was spotted with dirt and her chestnut hair was messily fanned upon her pillow. She looked paler than usual. Her eyes opened and she stared up at Yennefer.

"You're back," Triss murmured, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. She blinked a few times and then slowly sat up. "Where's Geralt? Ciri? Kain?"

"Safe," Yennefer retorted, scowling softly, feeling the heat radiating off her friend. "Are you sick?"

"I seemed to have contracted something from one of the wounded I've been healing," Triss explained. A common consequence with healing. Sorceresses had it easier than human physicians, only Triss couldn't use the typical methods to heal herself as she was allergic to elixirs and potions.

"Is it bad?"

"Fever—my throat scratches…" Triss explained. Yennefer could hear the distinction in her tone. "I've a bit of a cough. Nowhere near as bad as it was."

She coughed as if the mere thought was enough to make her do so.

"It's why you didn't respond to my letter?"

Triss nodded, her eyes dipping to her clasped hands. "I didn't have the strength," she apologized.

"We need you strong," Yennefer agreed, aware that if Triss had caught some kind of disease, that it was undoubtedly infectious. Yennefer began to pace slowly.

"Margarita and Shani are making sure I stay that way. How's Geralt?"

"Concerned."

"About?" Triss asked.

"The Wild Hunt," Yennefer responded.

"We all are," Triss amended, sinking back down, straightening out beneath the covers so that she could close her eyes.

Yennefer peered out of the window to get a better look at the view it offered of the town. There were no screams or cries for help.

"When will you be returning?" Triss asked.

"As soon as Kain is fully healed."

"Care to explain what happened?"

"The Crones physically and psychically wounded him."

Triss made a sound of apprehension and then rolled over onto her side, staring at Yennefer's back considerately, her eyes slowly sweeping closed.

"Why were they even out there?"

Yennefer shrugged lightly and pivoted around to face her.

"Unfinished business."

"A bit reckless…" Triss murmured, voice cracking, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she coughed.

"It's done," Yennefer retorted.

They said no more and Triss had already begun to nod off. Yennefer stopped her before she gave into the call of sleep completely.

"If anything happens—and you can't—make sure Margarita sends me a message. All four of us should be back in two days."

"Two?" Triss echoed softly as if she had to test the number.

"Two. Be well, friend," Yennefer said, waiting until Triss had nodded and then casually summoned up on her portal and headed back to the temple.


	61. Chapter 61

Ciri left the bottle on the table and headed in search of Geralt and Kain, temporarily putting her musings of Eredin and potential entrapment aside.

She found the two witchers in the back garden. They looked peaceful enough but their faces reflected concern. Did that mean they had heard from Novigrad?

"Did Yennefer stop by here?"

"No," Geralt turned to her, his brow furrowing in mild confusion. "I assumed you went to her room - unless you've spent all this time in the wine cellar destroying the Temple stock." He smirked, his eyebrow perking up in a silent inquiry.

"We went to the hot springs," Ciri explained. "Yennefer used to take me there when I was a child."

She looked between Geralt and Kain, gaze eventually settling on the former. "You do know last night was a mistake, yes? That I wasn't trying to lay with you, Geralt?"

Kain couldn't fully restrain his smile and averted his gaze while Geralt's smirk slipped off completely, replaced by surprise. "I'm not stupid, Ciri. I know where you aimed."

Ciri gave a slow nod, eyes still narrowed in scrutiny. "As long as that's clear." She breathed a sigh and looked back at the temple. "I need to go find Yennefer. We're waiting on word from Novigrad. You should be prepared to leave in case we are needed back there."

"There are four sorceresses of the Lodge," the Witcher said. "If we were needed badly, we would know by now. You should let yourself relax a little. This break is small, but it's worth enjoying."

"It's not a break," Ciri argued. "We're just... waiting. If anything we could be off searching for the Sunstone right now."

"Sometimes waiting a little before continuing your endless run is useful. You have to pause every now and then before you burn out."

"I don't know what to do with myself here," Ciri admitted. "I can't just... sit."

She looked towards the temple again, secretly hopeful Yennefer would come running out in a panic. Not that the sorceress ever panicked.

"Hasn't Avallac'h been trying to teach you meditation?" teased Kain. "It requires sitting in peace for a period of time. It does you good."

"Everything is fine in Novigrad," Geralt added. "In our world the absence of news is good news."

"And I only did it to placate him," Ciri told Kain. "Because his sulking if I didn't would drive me mad."

No matter what the witchers said, Ciri knew she wouldn't be able to settle. Because this pause was false. She knew it would end and pain and suffering would come crashing back. She needed to be prepared for that lest she break.

"I am going back to Novigrad in the morning. With or without you." She started for the temple. "We have things to do."

"No one keeps you here against your will, Ciri," Geralt called after her. "But I shall be returning on horseback."

That was what Ciri had intended too, but she didn't call back.

Instead, she made her way into the room she shared with Yennefer and found the sorceress just returning from somewhere, the golden light of her portal fading.

"Anything?"

"I spoke to Triss. As of yet, there haven't been any new threats from the Wild Hunt. Everyone is well."

"That is good news," Ciri said, though for some reason she didn't manage to make that sound convincing. "Nevertheless, I am going back to Novigrad in the morning."

Yennefer didn't have to read Ciri's mind to have picked up on her disappointment. Strange. Perhaps the waiting was beginning to become too much.

"To do what?"

Ciri shrugged. "I'll see when I get there. Surely there will be more use for us there than here."

"It's going to take time to rebuild. I'm sure they'll welcome any hand willing to help."

"Will you come with me, then?"

"If that's what you'd like."

Ciri smiled, feeling more at ease with her decision. "I'd like it very much."

"What of Geralt and Kain?"

"They seem more reluctant. Geralt shouted he will go back by riding, but didn't say when."

"I thought we'd leave in two days. They probably want to make sure Kain is properly healed. He is in the best place for such care should that change."

"He is healed. He told me himself," Ciri said, removing her weapons belt. "They are just enjoying the quiet."

It was as if neither brother had listened to Yennefer when they discussed the issue of Ciri's impatience at the table this morning. That was their mistake.

"I don't blame them, the last few weeks have been frenzied. Even longer for you. You sure you'd rather not stay for some peace of mind?"

"I have no peace of mind here. I prefer to keep busy."

"Being busy helps with that, too. Perhaps, on the way, we should tend to more mundane Witcher business. Help eradicate some towns of beasts."

Ciri frowned. "Why? We have our own to tend to."

"Novigrad isn't under attack. At least not yet. Unless you're promptly interested in going from being holed up in a temple, to being caged in the inn. It's an inescapable outcome, and it will happen. You can't freely wander around the city. Even with Geralt being able to reach an accord with Dijkstra, that doesn't mean that with the loss of Oxenfurt there aren't other civilians vying to capture you and hand you over to the Wild Hunt. We lost more than we were able to save and we can't afford to hand them the opportunity. On the road, you've more of a chance to enjoy the sunlight on your face and have even less chance of being recognized. The war isn't going anywhere, Ciri, I promise – when we get back there in say a day or two – it'll still be hanging over everyone's head and you'll be able to lead the frontline."

"I'm not hiding anymore," Ciri said, regarding the sorceress thoughtfully. "Not here, nor in Novigrad. I am done cowering in the shadows. If anyone comes for me, they will swiftly regret it. I promise you that."

"You're telling me you're planning to cut down people that are scared for their lives? For their families? And are too afraid of what they'd lose again?"

"If they try to harm me or anyone I love, of course I will. I intend to come out of this war alive, Yennefer." Ciri gently touched the bouquet of wildflowers someone had put in a vase on their table, admiring the pretty colors of every petal. "Don't lie and tell me you wouldn't do the same."

"You're not me, Ciri, you're better than that," Yennefer countered. "I'm not saying you should roll over and take it, but those too afraid to fight are not your enemy. They're idiots. Cowards. And rightly so. If the Wild Hunt was effortlessly bested we'd have done so by now and wouldn't have any need for the Lodge."

"I've never said defeating the Hunt would be easy. But if anyone comes for me because they are too scared to fight," Ciri narrowed her eyes, "then I will have to make them more afraid of me than they are of Eredin."

Ciri made for the door, unaware of how the flowers that had been beautiful and luscious a minute earlier were now dying.

"I'm going to check on Kelpie. Make certain all her gear is ready for us to go."

Yennefer scowled as Ciri left the room. Ciri had been so protective of the people of Novigrad before and now was willing to throw them beneath the rubble to save herself. That wasn't Ciri. Not her Ciri. The magic was eating her alive – literally.

After the door closed behind Ciri, Yennefer sighed, her eyes skimming the interior until they stopped on the wilting flowers she'd been examining.

She walked over to the vase, touching a hand to the darkening petals, feeling the residue of the dark magic before they dropped off and died.

Could it be Ciri was in fact possessed—the more she spoke, the more certain Yennefer became—or was it that the Elder Blood was changing her?

Yennefer scrubbed a hand against her face, considering, and then went in search of Geralt and Kain.

* * *

By the scowl Yennefer wore approaching them Geralt read there was another trouble.

"What is it?" he asked before she spoke.

"I'm beginning to believe Ciri is possessed," Yennefer said softly, fearing the blonde would appear in a flash of green and yell 'got you!' and then take off.

The brothers tensed, and Geralt felt tired of the subject. He was annoyed to keep thinking it all over when he had finally managed to settle in his view on it.

"What made you think so?" Kain asked.

"She made the flowers in our room wilt. I'm not even sure she did it deliberately. She's also saying things that contradict what she's been willing to do since she returned," Yennefer felt more at ease saying it out loud and like there was truth to the belief. "We're leaving tomorrow. She wants to go back to Novigrad."

"So she told us," Geralt muttered, mulling it over. "So you think she's possessed because she did something to some flowers? She can make people's heads explode, Yennefer. She destroyed the Crones with their little pocket dimension. What are some flowers to her when she's upset? It can't be proof, can it?" He turned to Kain; the latter seemed uncertain.

"Geralt got a point," he said reluctantly. "When Ciri's upset, bad things happen. The more control she gains over her powers, the less timid she gets to use them, either willingly or just on emotions."

Yennefer should have known better than to rely on the reference of the flowers as evidence.

"I've suggested to Ciri that we do some Witcher clean-up on the way to Novigrad. There should been some beasts in need of slaying. It'll give me a better assessment of her magic use – her fighting – and let us know if her carnal instincts are solely restricted to the Wild Hunt."

"I thought she wanted to get to the city as soon as possible and therefore would use her power to travel," Geralt said. "You should accompany her, given you came through a portal to begin with."

"No, I told her that going directly to town is a bad idea. And it is. She isn't any safer there – besides, I explained. I'd like to see how her powers progress when she fights something else."

"She can't be taking any witcher contracts alone," Geralt argued wearily. "She might be a mage of sorts, but she's still human and mortal. You can't just test her like some mages do their lab rats and mice."

"You trusted me to test her as a child," Yennefer argued, insulted that Geralt thought her intention was that cut and dry. "What would you I rather do? Ignore what I know and hope for the best?"

He heaved a sigh and gave her a tired look. "Do as you wish, but mind that it could only provoke her if she finds out how intensely she's being watched. She's not that little girl anymore, Yen. She's onto us more often than not."

"She likes to fight. Apparently she likes to kill. I can't see her having a problem with being granted the occasion to do both. Besides, hasn't it always been her want to be a witcher?"

"We haven't had a chance to discuss her wants in more details, because there's always the Hunt's shadow looming over her, and she refuses to let it go even for an extra few hours, as you can see for yourself." Geralt waved a hand toward the stables where Ciri went.

Yennefer and Geralt were running in circles around one another and getting nowhere. Kain was silent. Yennefer turned her attention to the half-elf. "What's your opinion? Suggestions?"

Kain blinked, bewildered. "What am I supposed to say? I'm the worst one to ask for advice on a child-surprise parenting."

"No one is asking you to parent here, Kain, least of all Ciri. So please, don't say that too loudly," Yennefer countered, darting a look toward the stables to make sure she hadn't decided to join them. If anything would make Ciri turn tail and run, it would be that. "What I meant was… you've been spending almost as much time with her as we have lately. Surely, you've learned more about her and have something useful to add."

"There's nothing I can add," he said. "She's been the same old Ciri when we talked. She didn't make any flowers die or birds fall dead from the sky or anything like you seem to expect now. I don't sense any possession in her - but then again, she hasn't lost her temper around me yet." He gave a helpless shrug. "We better treat her as normal, otherwise it's like Geralt says - she'll know." He leaned forward to her as if to confide. "Her powers are developing, she's learning fast. She could read your intentions if you're not careful. And then she'll take it as a betrayal. The worst betrayal of someone she trusted as a mother."

"If Ciri takes offense to my concern then I know for certain that there is something wrong with her. She knows me. All of me," Yennefer added, averting her attention to Geralt. He did, too, and if he remembered her, he'd know that there was a lot that came with her, a lot of issues and personality imperfections that were overlooked. They had love, and that love shone through brighter than anything else. "However, if you two are that worried… you should travel with us tomorrow."

Geralt let on a small ironic smile. "No one knows all of you but you, Yen. Nevertheless, she gets annoyed at any concern coming from us when she feels it's smothering. It doesn't matter how well she knows you if she senses you're being tense and watching as if she's unwell." He sighed, rubbing his neck. "I don't want to be worried. I hope she gives me no reason to. I want to have trust that she knows what she's doing."

"You're being utterly naïve, Geralt. I tell you that your daughter is possibly possessed and you revert to closing your eyes and praying?" Yennefer straightened up and glowered at the two, huffing with the same indignation Ciri did when she reverted to tantrum-throwing and stomped off to their room.

He watched her leave, both annoyed and battling an urge to laugh.

"Had she known me so well, this prayer thing had to be a joke." He turned to Kain, conflicted. "Am I being stupid as she hints? Should I drag Ciri to some temple by the hair and attempt at banishing spirits from her?"

Kain chortled, shaking his head. "Before we know for sure by some undeniable fact, everything we choose to think is speculation. Including her opinion. We have to wait. If she's possessed, it won't be long until it's revealed."

"And then what? Someone dies? Or maybe many someones? If it's the Riders, I won't mind."

Kain sighed, his smile dying out. He said nothing, watching Yennefer sashay away.

* * *

Everything was all right with Kelpie's riding gear. Of course it was. Ciri had known that going into the stable. She'd just wanted an excuse to be alone again.

Usually, she was on the same wavelength with Geralt and Yennefer; they'd always been good at soothing the reckless urgency in Ciri. It might take some time, certainly, but they would usually get there in the end. Not this time.

Ciri leaned against Kelpie's door and pondered, wondering what had happened to make her parents unable to soothe her now. They'd lost their touch.

Had the two been locked away together in a bedroom screwing each other's brains out, Ciri probably wouldn't have complained. But they weren't doing that either. So why were they so set on delaying the inevitable - preparing for the war?

"They're getting older, Kelpie," Ciri murmured, eyeing the mare. "Maybe they are becoming more reluctant to fight?"

The horse didn't answer, of course. She didn't even approach Ciri for their usual cuddling. She just chewed on hay and watched the girl from afar.

If Ciri didn't know any better, she'd say the animal was being wary.

"Come here," Ciri called softly, holding her hand out for Kelpie in invitation.

The mare hesitated, then turned away, refusing to approach and greatly wounding Ciri's feelings in the process.

The girl scowled in dismay and for a brief moment felt the urge to step inside and force closeness upon the mare.

The whip is here for a reason, she thought, eyeing Kelpie's back with a burning anger.

Ciri's grasp on the gate was so tight her knuckles turned white.

She eventually exhaled, some of the tension evaporating.

"Fine. Be that way."

Everyone was doing a good job of getting on Ciri's nerves today. Must be something in the water.

"Careful, child!" Nenneke reprimanded, but without the real heat, when Ciri nearly collided with her on her way from the stables. The priestess gave her a keen look. "Are you all right? Something the matter?"

"Your skittish horses seem to be rubbing off on my mare," Ciri murmured, disgruntled. "She's not used to being confined inside. It'll do her good to get back on the road again."

"No one makes you keep her inside," Nenneke said. "That one is in because she's expecting any day now. The rest are out in the field." She regarded her closely. "You can't wait to get away again, isn't it right?" A small smile touched her lips, either sad or a bit sardonic. "Is this not a welcome and safe harbor for you, anymore, my girl?"

Ciri regarded the older woman with a frown, one that slightly softened when she realized Nenneke's feelings might be hurt.

"It's not that. I just...There's so much that needs to be taken care of before I can start to feel at peace. And I can't do that from here."

Nenneke smiled warmer. "There's always a moment or two for peace, dear. You won't have to stay for a year, nor even for a week, I imagine. But at least while you're here, let yourself breathe deeper."

"That leads to complacency. That is when they strike," Ciri said matter-of-factly. "I can't afford to do that."

"Nonsense," Nenneke scoffed, slowly resuming her stroll toward the Temple doors. "Giving oneself a few hours of peace until you leave is not complacency. It's healthy. It's a needed break from being so strung up. Look at you, pale and skinny, and those eyes burning with constant anxiety. Oh, child, I wish I had you here for a week or two to get you back to the world of living from that pit you ran yourself into."

"Did this to myself, did I?" Ciri scoffed, reluctantly following in Nenneke's wake. "Believe me, Nenneke, if you had armies and bounty hunters chasing you to the end of the world, and even into new ones, you would do what I did. Because the consequences of being caught are too horrific."

Mother Nenneke gave a long sigh, shook her head. "Armies, chases - it's not forever. It's not here and now." She stopped abruptly, and Ciri almost bumped into her yet again. Nenneke waved a hand at the gardens around. "Look. There is no chase or death here. And you are here now. Let yourself enjoy it while you can. Don't run from that as fast as you run from whoever chases you."

Ciri stepped closer to the woman, towering over her. "Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they are not here. I feel them. Their want. Their desire. It never leaves. The only way for it all to stop is with a river of blood."

There was something else besides sadness in the way the priestess looked at her. Something akin to pity.

"There's only us here, dear child. Just us. If you don't banish your trials from your head, you will never defeat them."

Ciri smiled sardonically. "Then according to you we are all doomed."

She took a few steps away, brushing hair out of her eyes, her smile softening suddenly.

"I'm going to stop them. You'll see. One day I will truly be free."

"What will happen then?"

Ciri hesitated. She'd imagined that moment many times while on the run. But some of the aspects seemed more like fantasies than potential reality now.

"I will be by Geralt's side, helping him with his work. He and Yennefer will be together. Kain will be there as well. And we will be a family again."

"Nothing stops you from being a family now," Nenneke reasoned softly. "They're here with you. All of them. And you're with them."

Ciri shook her head.

"No. I thought they were but..." She stared off into the air for a moment, then resurfaced. "And they are not together. They're broken. Geralt doesn't remember. And Yennefer's heart is aching. Nothing is as it's supposed to be."

Nenneke knew some things about the issue - mostly from Geralt, which proved to be a limited side of the story. She didn't want to ask for Yennefer's, and the latter wasn't in a rush to share.

"I don't suppose magic is ever a thing to play with when it comes to love," she grumbled, resuming her stroll. "But what's real will always stay. They've both been a pair of fools in how they handled each other - not much has changed there, I assure you. Which means you have hope to get back what you liked. If their love was real. Because there is nothing, my dear child, nothing that true love wouldn't fix."

"Have you ever been in love?" Ciri asked. She would never have dared such a thing as a child. But things were different now.

For the briefest of moments, there was a ghost of melancholy in Nenneke's face, but then it faded. "When you're young, you seek it everywhere, with every handsome face you see. But not everything survives the test of time and experience."

"There aren't many good men out there," Ciri said with sympathy. "Most of them are not like Geralt and Kain."

One of the many reasons Ciri would protect them both with her life.

Nenneke chuckled. "Geralt means well, but he can be an utter numskull when it comes to women he cares about. So it's all about perspective. Yours and Yennefer's are different."

"He doesn't rape." Ciri was absolutely certain about that. "That makes him better than most men I have met."

The remark held too much pain luggage, and it cut through the priestess's heart, but she didn't let Ciri notice to not make her dwell on that dark. She scoffed. "Many choose to not opt for cowardice like that, but it doesn't necessarily make them good. It merely makes them slightly better than animals. I don't believe it's high enough a standard for you."

"It isn't. But it certainly catches my attention." It was sad to say, but it was the truth. "I am leaving tomorrow," Ciri admitted. "I thank you for your kindness and hospitality. And your healing of Kain. I don't know how to repay you."

"I didn't do much for him," Nenneke admitted. "He's a medical mystery that likes to do things his way. You have nothing to repay, Ciri. I merely wish I could do more for you, provide more comfort than I managed. So you wouldn't run from here like it's a prison."

"Perhaps I will return one day. When it is safe." It was a beautiful idea. And Ciri imagined she would be a different person then - happy. And more put together. Like a proper adult.

Nenneke sighed with a sad smile, and brushed a strand of Ciri's hair behind her ear. "One day might never come. And yet today is when you're here. I'd rather you took the most out of it instead of waiting for some day."

She didn't wait for Ciri to object and walked on to the doors. The supper time was coming.

* * *

"Nothing else comes to mind," Geralt said when he and Kain stood on their balcony waiting for the stars to appear on the darkening sky. "I hoped for something more than a strange story of how I wanted to bribe her forgiveness with gemstones and Nenneke."

"Maybe nothing comes because you're waiting too eagerly. If you let it go-"

"Would she let it go, you think? I wonder if she'll get too fed up with it one of these days."

Kain studied him with furtive interest. "And then what? Leave you and Ciri behind?"

Geralt shrugged and kept silent.

"Would you want her to leave you be? No pressure, no expectations... no Yennefer..."

"Ciri needs her," he said for the sake of saying something.

"And you don't." Not a question, but an invitation to elaborate.

Geralt sighed. "It's even worse when I do and then don't know why. I want an explanation."

"You'll have to find it within, Geralt. There's no other way. No one will tell you more than you knew in your heart."

"Knew," he emphasized. "I don't know anymore."

"It's not a limb you lost forever. It's coming back. Don't rush it, just let it happen. Spend time with her and see if anything else comes through."

"What if nothing comes?"

Kain gave him a keen look, eyes narrowing. "You have to decide whether you're doing it for Ciri, or you're doing it for you. And then do what you need to." Before Geralt came up with an answer, he added with a sly smile, "Better do it now."

The Witcher followed his gaze to where a slender silhouette was moving gracefully across the front yard, her sword flicking like a silver spark under the half-moon. He sighed and headed for the door.

The guest room wasn't locked; the enchantress met him on the threshold before he knocked, and pulled him in, her perfume intoxicating as she kissed him.

Yennefer pressed herself to his chest, taking her frustrations with the situation out on Geralt's body, quickly stripping him of his clothes, riding him so hard that both were breathless and possibly bruised by the time they were done. There had been no love in the act, none of the overwhelming emotions that came after with all the unanswered questions, just exhaustion. She was tired of fighting. If not to understand their relationship or to hold onto it, then for Ciri. It was as if their doubts and troubles would never come to an end. Usually, Yennefer would find a solution, some way to navigate around what was wrong, but she had absolutely no idea what to do now or how to manage her daughter. If Ciri was possessed, she'd have to expel the magic inside her. If she wasn't… Yennefer would have to find another means of quietening that nasty voice and as Kain and Geralt had said earlier – there was a risk in that. She'd lose Ciri. Her trust.

Yennefer peered at Geralt sprawled out beside her. They'd moved all around the room, tainting every inch of Nenneke's guest room with their lust-fueled fury until eventually collapsing on separate beds.

"Are you coming with us in the morning?"

"It's not morning yet," he looked to her with a sly sneer.

Yennefer fixed him with an amused look and a half-smile and then let her eyes close for a few so she could calm her racing heart.

He feasted his eyes on her naked body, her curves and her amazing skin, her wonderful hair spilt around her head and shoulders in a disarray of curls that refused to loosen even after their extended interaction. It reminded him of Rinde once again. It refueled his desire. He smiled lazily.

"Ciri won't come here if I don't go."

"That might be for the best," Yennefer mused and opened her eyes, rolling over onto her side to rest her head on her open hand. "Maybe Kain will be able to get her to relax a little. She officially told me that their relationship is 'their' business."

Geralt threw his head back, laughing. "Would it teach you, though?"

"Of course not," Yennefer added with a laugh and a wag of her brows. "She's young, still new to the wiles of men and their flowery promises. Given that Kain is related to you, I don't doubt he has choice… charms."

"He has what?"

"Charms," Yennefer repeated. "Maneuvers he uses to snare his prey."

He gave her a mocking, incredulous look. "You suggest he snared Ciri like some little inexperienced girl?"

"One doesn't have to be little or inexperienced to be taken in by someone's appealing considerations. It's instinctual – a connection." A viewpoint that served Geralt and Yennefer's former relationship and the position they presently found themselves in.

"Ciri is young, but certainly not new to, as you put it, wiles of men. She knows what she wants and she seeks it. Kain, however, couldn't have snared her. It was the last thing he wanted."

"Are you trying to convince yourself of that fact… or me?"

Ciri was an attractive woman. To think that Kain upon first seeing her wouldn't have had some kind of interest for her was preposterous to Yennefer. That could have changed now, and his motives could be predominately innocent, but that didn't mean he hadn't lured her anyway. But like Ciri had so keenly reminded Yennefer, that was their business.

Yennefer lowered the arm propping her head to the covers and slid off her bed, moving to straddle Geralt on his.

"I'm assuming the reason you've come to my room was not because you wanted to revisit yesterday's nude adventure…" Yennefer began. "Or to discuss Ciri and Kain and who seduced who…"

"I don't have to discuss Ciri and Kain - neither seduced the other there. My goal was rather selfish."

"Did you achieve it?"

He smiled, pulling her down to him. "Not fully, no."

She caressed him, working him to hardness before guiding him into the warmth of her welcome body. Unlike the fury of prior coupling, the frustration that needed to be tended to, this time she planned to take her time, raising herself to come down on him slowly, repeating the movement over and over, savoring the way he made her feel capable of flight and contradictorily anchored.

He let her do it slowly, stroking his hands up her thighs and over her flat stomach, feeling her muscles tense and relax as she went. He admired her face and that strange softened expression that claimed it, framed with springy cascading curls.

Drawn in by the expression on his face, and despite what had happened by the hot springs, Yennefer had automatically opened herself to trying to see what he was thinking and if there was any noticeable crack in his emotional defense. He'd always been open before, even when he knew it was possible for her to read minds and that she did it. It was habit, it was her security blanket and with all this unknown happening around her, she greedily grappled at him with her lower body and her mind.

Geralt growled when his medallion tingled, and flipped her over onto her back, dismissing the whole nice-and-slow approach. His hips pistoning against hers with accelerating pace, he sneered down at her.

"Just can't help yourself, can you."

"No," Yennefer breathed out in a sort of gasp, fisting a hand into his hair, yanking on it to punish him even as her legs tightened around his waist, her hips furiously keeping pace with his thrusts. "No— I'm greedy, I've always been greedy."

He hissed at her grip and grinned. "I remember that." Her trick didn't slow him down, and he went for even more violent pushes, his lips claim hers in a no less violent kiss.

Her eyes swept closed and her tongue plunged into his mouth, blunt teeth fastening on his lower lip once they pulled apart to catch their breath. She pressed open-mouthed kissed to his jaw and the side of his neck, angling her lower body as needed until she could feel her belly tighten and tense, coming alive with electricity that had her muffle her cries of ecstasy into his shoulder.

He groaned into her hair and shoulder he had been kissing, then collapsed, panting and entangled. Two more candles burned out on the bedside table, dipping the room in darker shades.

"Stay with me tonight," Yennefer murmured against his ear once she could trust herself to speak clearly and the room had darkened slightly.

"Hmm." He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling under her ear, basking in her scent. That magical scent...

She motioned a finger at the bed she'd abandoned, the blanket jumping from its place to cover them, burying the chill the nights tended to bring before she drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

* * *

It didn't take long for Ciri to realize Yennefer was not alone in their room. The sound of a ruckus had reached her even out in the hallway when she'd returned from her training, making her smile subtly. She didn't mind staying away if Yennefer reconnecting with Geralt was the reason.

Ciri made her way to Kain's room, slipping inside without knocking and relieving herself of her weapons. "My room is... occupied," she said as a means of explanation.

"I'm aware." He was still standing on the balcony with a cup of water in hand, sipping it languidly.

"Mind me being here?" Ciri asked, watching his back after having disposed of her weapons belt on the nearest chair.

He smiled subtly to himself. "Why would you think so?"

"You prefer to be alone," she pointed out, moving out on the balcony to perch on the railing.

He shrugged. "Some alone time is necessary. But being utterly alone at all times is hardly helpful."

"You never seek me out. I always have to find you." Another reason why Ciri felt uncertain if her presence was wanted or not.

She looked out over the scenery the view from the balcony offered.

"Do people ask you about us? You and me?"

He thought of Yennefer with another pang of shame.

"Happened a couple times." He gave her an amused gander. "Why, you're being stopped on the streets and chased for information?"

"Feels like it sometimes. They want every detail, even the ones I don't know myself yet."

He sipped his water, eyeing the stars. "Like what?"

Ciri frowned. "Feelings. Mine. Yours. They want me to put them into words. I don't always know how. And I'm not sure I should have to."

"No, you don't have to, because it's only yours and no one else's business."

"Except yours. When they are in regard to you."

He took another sip of water. "You believe it should be me asking you about it instead of every interested party out there?"

"Not if you are not interested." Ciri lowered her head a little, smiling despite herself. "Though I think I have been fairly clear about my feelings already. The difference is that, unlike the others, you don't have to speculate about what might be going through your head."

"It's not as sorted out in there as you might think."

She turned to look at him, surprised. "No?"

"No. We've had this conversation before, and I told you how reluctant I am to think about it. A witcher and a Brokilon spy aren't made for love and happiness." He finished his water and sent the cup floating through the air back to the table at the wall.

"But you won't give me a no either," she said. "That leaves me hoping. No matter how foolish."

He looked at her with some surprised uncertainty. "You want a solid no? Is it what you're waiting for from me?"

"If that is the truth of how you feel. If there is no interest other than friendship from your side, then it would be nice to know. Might spare me some hurt in the long run."

He pondered it, studying her face. It hurt, and he wasn't sure why.

"If I say I don't like you as a woman, it would be a lie," he admitted. "But I don't want you to get hurt. And you would be at some point. To spare you that, I'll tell you no."

"The only time I will accept you sparing my feelings, is if you know you do not want me." Ciri said, reaching for him, gently coaxing Kain to stand before her and between her legs. "Not because you are scared."

She looked up at him, pondering as well. "You like me as a woman. That is a good first step." Ciri was also very grateful he had not referred to her as a girl, as Geralt might have. "Do you like me as a person?"

The ache in his heart faded as caution seeped in. He reluctantly let her pull him closer, not liking how she turned it all around. It was no longer a no she was ready to accept.

"You can be rash and childish," he estimated honestly. "Your anger gets the best of you at times, and it's scary. And all of it is a shell around the real you that's reluctant to fully come out, because you forgot how to live without that shell. It's been keeping you sane and protecting you for too long, and you don't feel you can start to live yet."

None of what he was saying was untrue. Ciri knew. Knew it within herself. But it still hurt to hear aloud from someone she held in such high esteem.

"It's rare that I feel anger when I am with you," she admitted. Kain always seemed to have a calming effect on her. That wasn't truly why she liked him, though.

"But I don't think I can let it go until The Hunt is no longer our problem." She released him and slipped off the railing to stand. "Not sure I even want to. It's all I know. All I remember."

"What's the point of having your dream come true and finally get your family back when you don't let yourself fully enjoy it without restrictions and shells? They love you, you don't have to protect yourself from them with an armor."

Ciri tilted her head, not understanding. Or rather, unable to understand how everyone else didn't see what she did. "I don't have them back. They're broken. I'm broken. I can't be what they want me to. They want the girl – the child they knew so many years ago." Her brow furrowed the more she thought about it. "Geralt sent me away. Because I was angry and vengeful and unable to control my magic. That hasn't changed. It scared him. Must mean it still does.

And Yennefer, she wanted me to be a sorceress. And I can't be that either. Even if I wanted to.

"They searched for me for so long and when they finally found me..." Ciri gestured to herself. "This is what they got. A willful, spiteful woman who apparently does cruel things to survive. The way they look at me sometimes...

"All that time lost. What a disappointment it must have been." And as Ciri's sense of self-deprivation heightened, so did her anger flare. As if to prove what everyone was saying about her. Was she anything but volatile fury?

Her eyes watered and she turned away from Kain, hands clutching the railing with the same intensity Ciri had held on to Kelpie's stable door earlier. Only now her rage did not want to lash out and entrap others. It wanted to consume Ciri's worthless body and burn her away until there was nothing left.

He felt her pain. It was so intense it squelched his heart and made his chest tighten as if his ribcage aimed to gradually compress with every breath he took. It was impossible to be with it, and he was petrified for Ciri if it was what she felt nearly all the time.

He wanted to pry her off the railing, make her look at him while he assured her how wrong she was, but he didn't.

He stepped into her, his hands covering hers clasped to the railing, his front pressed into her back, his lips skimming her temple as he spoke.

"They're happy to have you back, Ciri. Neither could live without you, and no, they don't want the same girl which you're not. All they want is to make up for the time they lost with you and give you all the love they couldn't share while you were away.

"No one wants you to be anything you're not. They merely want to be with you. There's no other need than to love you, protect you, help you with anything you need. It doesn't matter how you view yourself - for them you're the best thing that ever happened. You're their Ciri."

Ciri squeezed her eyes shut, tears warm on her skin as they slipped down her cheeks. She'd initially tensed when Kain stepped into her, only because her every muscle had been clenched like a serpent ready to strike. But eventually, she relaxed, ever so slightly, letting his words soak into her.

After a minute, she managed to release her hold on the railing, fingers curling around Kain's hands instead, holding onto him like a lifeline.

She didn't speak. Didn't trust herself to. She simply took advantage of having Kain close and letting his calming energy try and soothe hers like a balm.

When her body let go of some tension, he wrapped his arms around her, fully embracing her against him, his eyes closing. He tried to soothe her pain while she seemed more accepting. More strain seeped into his chest, but he sensed her relaxing. He held her while she wanted to be held.

Ciri didn't know how Kain did it – if it was merely his presence that helped, or if he was actively doing something with his healing magic. Whatever it was, it did wonders. Much more than she would be able to do on her own.

When Kain held her, Ciri felt safe. She felt accepted. Everything she longed for.

But all perfect moments had to come to an end. She opened her eyes and inhaled deeply in a final effort to keep herself calm and cool, squeezing one of Kain's hand in gratitude.

"Thank you."

He planted a soft kiss to her temple. "You've never been a disappointment to anyone other than the Lodge. Don't forget it. Don't let your moods fool you."

She smiled, delighted at that declaration. "That disappointment I'm quite proud of. Not many had the courage to turn down The Lodge."

"For as long as they don't come up with how to punish you," he said, letting her go. "I don't expect Geralt to return - he would've by now. You should take his bed and sleep."

"Do you really prefer the floor or did you only say that because you worry about Geralt's old body?" Ciri asked with a hint of cheek, moving back inside the room.

"His body's not old. But he has his preferences while I'm used to sleeping on the ground. We both chose to switch."

He didn't follow her immediately, allowing her a bit of privacy to prepare for bed.

"If you say so," Ciri murmured, undressing of everything except her shirt. She slipped into bed and under the covers, trying to get comfortable.

"It's safe now."

"Safe?" he gave a soft chuckle, stepping back into the room.

"Yes. All my lady-parts are concealed." Ciri plumped the pillow beneath her, then lay down, turning her back on him to grant him the same privacy he'd given her.

"Dryads never thought they had to conceal anything," he said, pulling his boots off before lying down on the mattress. "Nor did druids."

"As you could tell by Geralt's reaction last night, I was raised differently."

"Geralt isn't shy like that himself, though. He merely didn't expect you to sneak into his bed. Had it been anyone else..."

"I know, I know, he'd have fucked her. Yennefer said."

"Not necessarily. Despite what Yennefer says."

"My point is, he didn't exactly encourage nudity. Nor did the people at court."

"It shouldn't be encouraged as a norm," Kain mused. "But one shouldn't feel ashamed to take off the clothes when it's called for it. Nothing shameful about it."

"I'm not ashamed. Not anymore."

"Scars were the reason?"

"No. They didn't help, but..." Ciri turned to lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling. "When you are told you're repulsive enough times, you eventually start to believe it."

He frowned, his eyes closed. "Who told you that? That man who scarred you?"

"Yes. He made sure I knew how disgusting I was. He never tried anything sexually, for that reason alone I think, for I know he had no problems with rape.

"But during my daily beatings, he would undress me naked. And after, he'd just sit and stare at my broken body for hours. To make the humiliation worse, I suppose."

Ciri shifted slightly atop the mattress, hands above the covers.

"And then, of course, there was King Auberon, who had to get high on fisstech just so he could stomach to touch me. It got to me, even if I tried not to let it. Women are taught their value is directly connected to their beauty. If you don't have it, you're worthless to the men."

He felt a bout of anger rising within him like bile in response to those who wronged her. He imagined Geralt lived with it every day, and in that light, his acceptance of her cruelty toward the elves was fair.

"Aen Elle are strange," he uttered quietly. "Their bodies are no different, except for minor details. The mere knowledge of our race they deem primitive must be the factor. Is Avallac'h the same?"

"To a certain extent," Ciri said after a moment's thought. "Though he never makes a point of making me feel ugly or repulsive.

"But I think you are right. Auberon didn't truly think me hideous. When he was dying he thought I was his daughter. And I think he loved her very much. They say I look like her. Could be why he couldn't... you know, complete the task."

"It might be why," Kain agreed. "Same as Geralt who couldn't accept you naked in bed with him, even by mistake. Probably why Emhyr let you go back then."

"I didn't want him to accept me naked in bed with him." Ciri scowled. "You do know that, yes?"

He had to laugh. "We both do. You should stop worrying about it."

"I have to make sure. Because it seems like you all think I had nefarious intentions."

"No one thought that," he objected, stifling a yawn. "You need to stop thinking that everyone thinks you're doing wrong things. It's in your head."

"Yes," she murmured, rolling over to get more comfortable and closing her eyes to try and sleep. "A lot of things going on in there."

He took a long, deep breath, pondering lazily how many more bad memories she couldn't let go of, until he slept.


	62. Chapter 62

The Witcher woke up in a jerk, disoriented for a moment. There was a warm naked body draped against his side, and for one scary instant he feared to see one of their ugly faces and hear them cackle.

('_Do you desire us?_')

"I'm sorry," he murmured when a pair of sleepy violet eyes peered at him inquiringly. "Didn't mean to wake you."

The room itself hadn't lightened but despite her sleepy disorientation Yennefer could sense that the sun was close to rising outside, if not rising already. She snaked a hand up his chest, resting it against the side of his face, index finger stroking his jaw.

"Bad dream?"

"Yes," he rubbed his face and let out a long sigh, trying to relax his tensed body. "Something like that. Doesn't matter."

He smiled and leaned closer, nuzzling against her neck.

Yennefer's hand drifted from his face and settled beneath the blankets, tossing a glance at the bed beside them.

"You were right. Ciri didn't come to bed."

"For the best. So I could stay." He studied her with lazy curiosity. "Would you rather have another variation?"

"You've stayed with me before while she was in the room. Before the Djinn. Of course – our nude activities were non-existent under a roof, but it isn't an impossibility."

"I'd rather not indulge in such activities with Ciri in the room," he reasoned and brushed his lips under her ear. He began to smile. "She won't come in now, either..."

His hand trailed down along her stomach and lower as he tugged at her earlobe with his teeth.

"Probably not," Yennefer agreed, her stomach muscles trembling beneath his fingers, her legs parting slightly to welcome his hand. "Nenneke might."

"Hmm." He shifted closer, peppering her neck and chest with teasing kisses, while his fingers stroked between her inner thighs. "Doesn't it excite you in the slightest bit?"

"It definitely does," Yennefer murmured, rocking her hips subtly against his hand, provoking. "Can you feel it?"

"You didn't have to answer aloud," he agreed, his finger skimming along and around her most intimate part with excruciatingly slow motions until she couldn't contain shivers running through her body at every subtle touch he allowed.

His own arousal was painfully evident, but he enjoyed the control while it lasted, and distracted her with a deep, demanding kiss.

She knew she didn't have to say it out loud, she wanted to. She would even have gone into further detail had his lips not covered her own and preoccupied her.

She groaned into the kiss as heat began to pool between her thighs, her rocking becoming insistent, her right hand clawing at his side encouragingly.

She nudged her knee against his body, trying to widen them, trying to get him to move so he could situate himself between her legs.

"I want you inside me," she murmured with commanding desperation.

He leaned back a few inches, looking at her, momentarily stunned by the vivid memory of her complacent demeanor when they argued about the djinn and Dandelion.

_('I always get what I want.')_

He supposed it was true. He didn't think she had ever had to ask for anything she wanted. She did ask him, though. He wondered if there was anyone else she asked the same way.

_Two kestrels..._

The thought seemed so misplaced it retreated as soon as her lips connected to his. Geralt didn't fight to keep it. He indulged what she wanted, for he wanted the same.

This time they made each other scream.

* * *

Ciri was already awake when the sun rose and after several hearty attempts at going back to sleep, she gave up when she heard the birds chirp outside. She got up and dressed, silently, so she wouldn't wake Kain, then snuck out a few minutes later.

The priestesses of the temple and their students were already up and busy, readying for the lessons of the day, and preparing breakfast. Ciri decided to wait to eat until Geralt, Yennefer, and Kain joined her. She had a feeling one or more of them had no intention of travelling rapidly back to Novigrad with her that morning, and she wanted a little time with them all before she left.

Nenneke and Kain's words the night before had made a small impact.

* * *

After they'd thoroughly indulged in each other, Yennefer coaxed him out from under the covers and into the bath where they could rinse away their nights and morning's frivolities and she could prepare for her travel.

She was in the middle of pulling on her clothes and trying to tame her hair without her usual necessities at hand when she repeated her question.

"Will you be travelling with Ciri and I this morning?"

"I'll ride with Kain," he said, pulling his pants on. "You and Ciri should take advantage of her power - given you have one horse for two. If she's so worried about Novigrad, let her get there right away and calm herself."

Yennefer nodded, saying nothing with regard to his insistence about getting back to Novigrad. She wanted to test Ciri's power – see her responses. The last time she'd conjured something up, Ciri seemed to struggle with it, even if it had been done as a distraction – now, she couldn't be sure.

Yennefer laced her boots, combed her fingers through her hair a final time, scanning the room to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind and, once he was ready, followed him to the door so they could head out to join the rest of the temple residents for breakfast.

"Didn't change your mind about leaving?" Geralt asked Ciri at the table.

"No. It's time," Ciri responded, helping herself to some fruit. "I'll leave after breakfast."

He nodded, casting a quick glance at Yennefer before returning it to Ciri. "Through a portal?"

"That's the plan." Ciri didn't want to admit that was partly because Kelpie had been so cold with her yesterday. She was scared to explore what that might be about. "Quicker."

He nodded again and busied himself with another slice of apple pie.

"Don't go without seeing Nenneke," he added in a bit.

Yennefer regarded her. "I thought you were preparing your Kelpie the day before for the journey. Why the portal?"

"Didn't want to leave anything behind," Ciri said before shifting her gaze to Geralt. "We spoke last night."

"But you're leaving today," Geralt retorted. "It would make her feel good if you said goodbye."

Ciri shrugged. "If you say so." She'd felt like they had said goodbye the night before but perhaps that wasn't so. "Are you staying?"

"We're riding out soon after you," the Witcher assured. "Today."

"I can take you all back one at a time," Yennefer offered.

"We would like to have a normal journey," Kain said, settling at the table. "We've decided upon it."

Yennefer didn't understand Ciri's reluctance then. Why didn't they travel together? She had nothing else to add.

If Ciri didn't already know how Geralt hated traveling by magic, she would have suspected he and Kain were doing this to get away from her for a while. Suspicions that, despite being aware of the truth, continued to churn as Ciri finished her meal.

"I'll go find Nenneke," she said, rising from the table. "I'll meet you at the stables, Yennefer. When you're ready."

"I won't be much longer," Yennefer said and tucked into her food, studying Ciri's retreating back.

They watched her go, then Geralt turned to Yennefer, gauging her expression.

"No need to push her to any contracts or confrontations just to study it," he remarked. "There will be time for it yet. You may still watch her in Novigrad until we come. It'll be a day or two for us on the road. You're the only one pair of eyes on her there. Be very discreet."

Yennefer was a bit disappointed that her idea had been rejected, that she wouldn't be able to get a better look at what was going on with Ciri, but what else could she do? Neither Geralt, nor Kain appeared to be on her side in this regard. They also didn't seem to see the importance of it like she did. "I don't want there to be time for it. I want to manage this problem before it gets out of hand – I want to know what the problem actually is. You should be with us."

"We will be in a few days," the Witcher said. "But think about it, Yen. She attacked the Hunt. She took her anger and pain out on them. It's not all that strange. Maybe we're imagining a storm where there's nothing but a thin cloud that would pass soon like any mood."

"You may be right, Geralt, I could be overthinking, but shouldn't we at least be working to make sure that I'm not? Or is it that you can't bring yourself to trust my judgement on these matters?"

"I trust you," he said in that weariness in his tone one uses to placate the opponent when tired of the argument. "But I also want to trust her. I need to trust that she's all right, Yen. I need to try. If she's fine and we suffocate her with surveillance for no reason, we will lose her trust. She will feel betrayed by her closest ones."

"He's right," Kain added somberly. "We talked a bit last night. She said she feels you both are disappointed by her. By how she's not the little girl you both want back, how she's angry and bitter, how you fear her powers and how she uses them. She's in pain. Inside. If the way you behave around her proves her right..." He trailed off, letting them draw their own conclusions. He looked at Yennefer. "Tread very carefully. Please."

Geralt's face darkened at the revelation, his cheek muscles bulged. He put his pie down, feeling no want for it, anymore.

Yennefer felt a hint of irritation at Kain's interjection as she was about to sling another retort at Geralt, and yet, the information the half-elf offered up hollowed her out.

She pushed aside her own plate, nodding, no longer trusting she had anything to say that wouldn't sound defensive or like a cringe-worthy excuse. She hadn't realized Ciri's feelings or that Yennefer had presented herself in that manner to make her daughter doubt herself.

She stood abruptly.

"We'll see you back in Novigrad."

With that she left the two bothers to tend to their breakfast and headed for the stables.

Kain looked after her, his brow furrowing, then considered Geralt who was gloomier than a bear woken in the middle of winter.

"What Ciri said is not your fault," Kain told him. "It's in her head, always judging and questioning herself. I told her that. She felt better."

The Witcher gave him a pained look. "You said she's suffering. Because of me. I've been insensitive and-"

"Stop it. You did everything you could for her, and she knows it. Trust me, she knows. It was a moment of weakness. I'm sure you had your share. We all have."

Geralt thought of his vision about Visenna and drank his tea, brooding.

* * *

"It's that time?" Nenneke asked when Ciri found her outside of the kitchens delegating duties for the day.

"Afraid so," Ciri responded, though she wasn't able to show much regret.

Nenneke noticed and for a split second Ciri thought she saw something akin to hurt flash over the older woman's face. It vanished too quickly for Ciri to be certain.

Nenneke waited until the last of the priestesses had disappeared before she closed the space between Ciri and herself, wrapping the girl in a tender embrace.

"Be safe, child," she whispered as Ciri returned her hug. When Nenneke pulled back, her eyes were misty. She cupped Ciri's face in both hands.

"Go with the knowledge that you are loved, Cirilla, and that you always have a home here when you need it."

Ciri smiled, her hands resting on Nenneke's shoulders. "I appreciate that more than you know."

"May the goddess be with you."

"And you," Ciri said softly, gently squeezing the woman before releasing her and leaving.

Ciri found her way to the stable a few minutes later. Yennefer was waiting.

"I'll just get Kelpie and then I'll take us away."

"When you're ready," Yennefer said, smiling at Ciri, unable to shake the sadness that loomed over her like a dark raging cloud. She'd failed Ciri – made her feel unloved – and it was a hard fact to swallow. Yennefer herself had been through that negligence as a child and knew how hard it was when you thought you weren't being heard, especially when it came to those you considered family.

How could she fix it? Did she ask Ciri about it? Broach the subject and sell out Kain filling them in? No. She'd already added to the girl's loneliness, she refused to do it again or make her thing she didn't have anyone she could talk to in confidence.

Kelpie didn't seem much more receptive to Ciri's presence than she had the night before, but at least she didn't fight the girl as she led the mare out of the stables.

Once outside, Ciri extended her free hand to Yennefer with a small smile and when the sorceress took it, the three of them vanished in the familiar flash of green.

They appeared in the stables of Dandelion's inn a second later, startling one of the workers and making him drop the bucket of feed he'd been carrying.

Ciri didn't care. She handed Kelpie over to his care and made for the inn.

Yennefer scowled lightly as Ciri handed over Kelpie's reins to the stable hand, surprised she'd been willing to do that when she—most times—wanted nothing more than to do that herself.

She didn't help the stable boy pick up his feed, trailing Ciri into the inn, wondering if Priscilla was around when she knew Dandelion was still in Oxenfurt as it tried to rebuild.

* * *

Zoltan stood behind the counter downstairs, the top of his head barely visible until Ciri approached further.

"Ciri! Yennefer! Bloody hell!" he exclaimed and shuffled out to greet them, looking both relieved to see them and flustered. "Where the blazes have ye been? We've been worried sick about ye!" He peered behind the two women, expression turning to mild concern. "Where's Geralt? And Kain?"

"They're fine," Ciri assured him, glancing around the inn. It was empty. Too early in the day for patrons perhaps. "They'll be here in a few days. Chose the long way rather than magic."

"From where?" Zoltan demanded.

"Ellander."

The dwarf scowled. "What were ye doin' all the way over there?"

Ciri shrugged, not particularly eager to tell the story. "We had business to take care of. Where is everyone? Dandelion?"

"Most are over in Oxenfurt," Zoltan replied, not at all sated by Ciri's lack of explanation but seemingly pushing it aside for now.

"What for?"

Zoltan paused to regard the girl; he would have thought the answer obvious. "They're helpin' rebuild the town, lassie. And tendin' to the sick and wounded."

Ciri frowned. "They're not done yet? It happened a week ago."

Zoltan hesitated again, looking to Yennefer this time with a slightly confused gaze. "These things take time."

Yennefer met Zoltan's eyes. She was as taken aback as he was. Ciri knew that it took longer to build a city back up, even if it only took a day to destroy, not to mention the casualties, and yet—despite her reasoning for being here—her tone held none of the concern she declared to have for the people.

"Then I suppose, we should head over to Oxenfurt and help them." That's where Yennefer had been before they summoned her help in the Bog.

"Where is Avallac'h?" Ciri asked, earning herself a snort from Zoltan.

"Last I saw him, he was in yer old room. The sorceresses took his."

Ciri eyed the stairs leading to the second floor, pensive for a moment. "I should go talk to him." They hadn't informed the elf of their intention to take out the last Crone, either, and Ciri knew he would be furious. They needed him on their side to get a better perspective of what The Hunt might be planning next.

She turned to Yennefer. "You can go ahead without me. I'll catch up."

"I'll wait here," Yennefer said, smiling, offering up an air of disinterest when it came to the idea of returning to Oxenfurt to clean up after peasants. An act. The truth was that she was worried about Ciri and knew how volatile her relationship with Avallac'h could be.

What if he said something to upset her and…

"I'm sure Zoltan wouldn't mind my company for a little while."

Zoltan made not a sound but didn't meet her eyes again, he'd returned to whatever menial task he'd assigned himself as a distraction.

"And I could use some ale."

"Have you eaten?"

Yennefer nodded and disappeared behind the counter with him in search of mug.

* * *

Ciri found Avallac'h in her old room, standing motionless in front of the solitary window, peering out at the streets below. He turned to face her once he heard the door open. The look on his face was one Ciri was well acquainted with – quiet fury.

Normally she would have felt a pang of guilt at that. Fear, too. Neither emotion was present now. If anything, she felt amused.

"Always so somber," she commented, closing the door behind her. "Don't you ever get tired of looking so disapproving?"

Avallac'h didn't speak. Not for a long time. Ciri could tell he wanted her to confess to where she had been, why she had not informed him first, and to apologize for her thoughtless behavior. When none of this happened, he was eventually forced to address the issue himself.

"You went after the Crone of Crookback Bog." It was not a question.

A slow smile spread over Ciri's face. Of course, he knew. "How did you know? Did your elven friends tell you?"

A crease of annoyance marred Avallac'h's otherwise smooth brow. "The Hunt? Do not be ridiculous."

Ciri shrugged casually. "You know so much. I'm beginning to wonder if you have sources outside of this world. Back home, perhaps?"

"That would be convenient," the elf retorted, neither confirming nor denying. "Am I to take it you were successful in your mission?"

"We were."

"Who delivered the killing blow? Kainarel?"

Ciri's eyes narrowed. "Why? Because he would be the only one strong enough? The only one capable?"

Avallac'h watched her impassively. "He has come much farther than you, Zireael. He is gifted."

Jealousy burned bright in Ciri's heart, green-eyed and horrible. She didn't want to go back to the way things had been between her and Avallac'h before. The familiarity. The bond. Because she knew now it was all a lie.

But it bothered her he had seemingly moved his interest to Kain so quickly. As if Ciri herself meant nothing any longer because she could not perform on command.

"Does it matter who killed her?" Ciri asked, biting back the urge to hurl obscenities Avallach's way.

Avallac'h's smile was so imperceptible Ciri nearly missed it. He watched her intently. "Jealousy is a useless emotion, Zireael. Rid yourself of it," he said. And yet it seemed he truly didn't mind that particular feeling from her. Not when it was about him.

"You would know all about that, wouldn't you?" Ciri retorted, all intention of smoothing things between them to ensure future co-operation forgotten. "Do you no longer feel jealous then? Of Lara and her true love?"

Simply uttering her name was enough to needle him. Ciri could tell. Avallac'h had never been able to hide the sorrow in his heart when it came to Ciri's ancestor. Not from her. All at once, the elf became rigid and uncomfortable.

"You struggle, don't you?" Ciri continued, approaching him on soft feet, purposely making her voice coy. "Seeing her face every day, her body, the closest you will ever come to having her again..."

Ciri pressed herself against Avallac'h's chest, hands taking hold of his to lightly caress the sides of her body.

"Never being able to touch, to feel, to take what was promised to you."

Avallac'h's face betrayed nothing but slight discomfort. But his body, a certain part in particular, informed Ciri that Geralt and Yennefer had been right in their earlier assumptions. Avallac'h wanted her. Maybe not consciously. Maybe not willingly. But deeply. Because despite the Aen Elle's reluctance to admit human beauty, Ciri bore such a close resemblance to Lara Dorren no one would question whether or not she was her descendant.

Ciri turned her back to him, pressing her backside to the elf's crotch as their joined hands grazed her hips. "Must be _hard_..." she breathed, having purposely chosen that word in particular, "to know she chose another over you. A human. Feeling the pain of that knowledge... that you were never good enough for her. We would never choose you."

She released him and turned again, cupping Avallac'h's angular face to make certain his eyes met hers. She smiled, as ruthless as the force that stoked her need to hurt him.

"You're beneath us, Avallac'h."

Ciri pushed away, her smile cruel and contrasted by the girlish giggle that parted with her mouth. She didn't stay to watch the effects of her actions. She could already feel them.

Whatever pain the elf could still feel in that ancient heart of his – he felt.

* * *

Zoltan brought a pitcher of ale from the kitchen and Yennefer settled at one of the tables. He joined her in a few minutes upon finishing with the accounting.

"Ye going to Oxenfurt?"

She nodded. "We believe our help won't be amiss there. The sooner we do our share the quicker it goes, so we can go on with our lives."

"Aye, aye," the dwarf sighed wearily and drank his ale. "If that fat dick Dijkstra lets ye move on, that is."

"He won't dare stop us."

"Ambitious of ye," he chortled. "But then again, yer a sorceress. Yer kind are too bold for yer own good. Maybe Ciri takes after ye more than ye know."

It made Yennefer smile a little against her mug.

"Oh, darn, I almost forgot!"

The dwarf slipped off the chair and searched his trousers. What he came up with was a crumpled note of doubtful state of cleanness - someone might've spilt some mead on it. He handed it to her.

"Some kid came around seeking ye," he said. "Dirty mug, ragged shirt. One of them little thieves off the streets hired for an oren. I had to threaten to make him speak his message, wrote it down for ye. A meeting. The little snot said ye'll know what it's about if I tell ye the word 'amos'." He poured himself more ale, studying her. "Ye know what it is, doncha?"

"I do," Yennefer said, studying the fine line of foam on her mead.

She'd been trying to leave everything up to Geralt, letting him choose what to do with his scrambled brain, but despite all that—when she wasn't waiting on her families return or helping prepare for battle—she'd seeded other possible information about the djinn through a thieves organization.

They'd cost her a handful of crowns and an enchanted favour. She wasn't sure if they'd pay off or be killed during the Wild Hunt, but she'd hoped they'd come to her with an outcome.

Regrettably, it wasn't the best timing. Yennefer couldn't keep an eye on Ciri and her fluctuating moods and take her on some lowly journey for a book. Ciri wanted to get her hands dirty.

"Thank you for the message."

"Do you still want to go to Oxenfurt?" Ciri asked as she descended the stairs. "Or do you want to inform The Lodge about our return? I'm sure they'll receive our news with the same enthusiasm Avallac'h did."

"The elf's been moody like a drunkard without ale," Zoltan laughed. "I say he's loathin being replaced by yer side, lassie. Can't take it, the snobby nose. He craves to be the only one ye ever need, and then ye leave him behind like a used pair of soiled breeches." He chortled into his ale and drank.

Yennefer was too preoccupied in her own mind to give any notice to their brief conversation, trying to decide whether going after her book was the best course of action. She could do it herself, but who could she leave to tend to Ciri? Triss?

She drained what remained of her mead and set the mug aside, closing her eyes for a second as if she needed them to be able to decide her next course of action.

"Actually, no, I'd like to postpone returning to Oxenfurt," Yennefer answered finally. "Zoltan kindly delivered a message from a friend of mine and I'd like to follow up."

"For as long as ye don't get in trouble," Zoltan remarked, taking his mug and the empty pitcher off the table as he got up. "Or Geralt will rip me a new arse." Muttering to himself, he disappeared in the kitchen.

Ciri trailed Zoltan with her gaze before looking to Yennefer again, curious. "What was the message?"

Yennefer regarded the dwarf as he went about his business and then focused on Ciri before getting to her feet. She could lie or beat around the truth of the matter, but given what Kain had told her about Ciri's feelings, Yennefer wanted her to feel included and trusted. She was all those things and it had never been questioned.

It still wasn't – even with Yennefer's concerns about her headspace.

"It's about a lead on a book involving djinns," Yennefer said, purposely lowering her voice to a conspiring whisper.

"Alright..." Ciri drawled before finally catching on. "Oh. Oh! You mean, like your and Geralt's djinn?"

"I wasn't expecting much to come from my search, since the scriber of the tomes perished and most reliable information has been twisted by every mage, thief, and king that longs to own a djinn. However, some information has paid off and I have to confess I'm hopeful."

Or did it? The outcome hadn't been in Yennefer's favor and her relationship with Geralt was even more superficial than it had been before. They talked, but it was all surface level and hardly about themselves in a manner that added depth.

She longed for the days where she could take as much solace in his mind as she did his body.

"We'll have to find you warmer clothes," Yennefer said and gently guided Ciri for the stairs and the room she shared with Geralt.

Ciri followed her upstairs, confused as much as she was curious. "Why? Where are we going?"

"An island of Skellige," Yennefer said in a low tone, wondering how much detail Geralt had explained about their expedition on the island.

She glanced at the Lodge's bedroom door, and the other she assumed was Avallac'h's and ventured into the bedroom, unsurprised to find that it was untouched since last they'd been there.

Since she'd been there.

She hurried over to her clothes chest, popping open the top, searching inside for her usual winter furs, offering Ciri a spare coat that stopped just shy of whoever would wear its knees.

"You'll be able to move in it should someone unsavory catch up to us?"

Ciri arched a brow, surprised Yennefer even had to ask. "I could move even if my legs were cut off," she said, taking the coat. "So, we are going to search for this missing book? You think the cure to Geralt's memory loss could be in it?" That would be something to celebrate, indeed.

"His memory is fine – it's my part in it that's the problem," Yennefer stated, shrugging into her own coat, fixing the inner-laces and buttons. She'd yet to see Ciri in a dress and the longed for the day when they'd be able to have such menial discussions as fashion. "I'm afraid that in my eagerness to know the truth I might have made a mistake in my research. My hope is that this second tome – if I can find it – will be able to enlighten me as to what I might have done. Perhaps even tell me how to repair it."

Yennefer knew that the last thought was more hopeful than anything else, but given what she'd done—or believed she'd done—she couldn't rest until she was certain.

Yennefer smiled at Ciri to let her know she was ready, and then lifted her hands to the air, recalling her usual means of travel. A portal appeared from within the wall, a whirlwind of beckoning gold.

* * *

"I shall pray for your visit in some more peaceful time," Mother Nenneke said, embracing Geralt, then moving on to Kain. "Give Ciri my love."

A rare warm smile was lighting up Geralt's face. "We will, Nenneke, thank you for everything."

"I did close to nothing, save keeping you fed," she said. "If you see Triss, give her my regards, as well."

"Ciri's preoccupied," Kain added in a quiet voice. "She doesn't let herself stop and rest, but we'll do what's in our power to help her. And then she'll want to come where she was at peace once."

Nenneke smiled wistfully. "I don't foresee it happening in the near future, but hope is a good thing. Go with Goddess, witchers. May she keep you safe."

She stepped back as they went for their horses, and waved as they rode out. Both witchers felt their chests tightening while they spurred their horses to gallop down the road and away from the temple gates.

They rode on past Dorndal and kept along Pontar river, heading in the direction of Velen. About halfway, having a short break for snacks and call of nature, they spotted an approaching cart. The horse was trotting but looked half-dead from effort and sun that scorched everything from its high point of zenith. The horse - a simple village mare - was breathing loudly and heavily, all her sides and neck wet with specks of foam. A woman driving it was about to spur the mare at the sight of two men on the curb, but the mare couldn't oblige. It stopped, head lowered, and looked close to collapsing.

"Oh gods," the woman whimpered. "Oh no…"

"Do not worry, m'lady," Geralt said. "We pose no harm. Please, let your horse rest and continue on."

The woman wasn't alone, it turned out. Her cart was full of children, ages from six to twelve by Geralt's estimation. Some smaller ones were sniffling and crying, all of them tired, their faces covered in road dust.

The witchers helped the woman with the horse, Kain led it to the river to drink – where the mare eagerly dipped its muzzle and sucked in hearty, slurping gulps. The children ate and drank, some went to sleep right after, some played on the grass while the adults talked.

"We're from Downwarren, m'lords," the woman said. Her eyes were red as if she had been weeping all other day. Kain suspected it was so. "A horrible curse befallen us, all beasts gone mad, wolves and monsters, howlin in the nights and stealin our babes by day, not afeared of anythin, no forks or torches."

"Downwarren," Geralt frowned. "It's near the bog?"

"Yea, m'lord, there. The Ladies watch over us, but no more they do, no. Their…" Her face crumpled up, and she tried to not whimper loudly not to scare the children. "They… they gone, m'lords. The altar, all gone! Black coals left, no more. It's awful! We dunno what to do no more! And them beasts come lurkin and huntin us and them kids. Them ghosts and their hounds lurk, breathe ice and kill people. We find the frosty trails that don' melt in the sun! I grabbed them babes and fled. Or we'd be dead."

She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, her body shaking as she wept silently. Geralt sat next to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Someone burned the altar, and the Ladies cursed us!" she whispered, wiping her cheeks. "They will never forgive us now! Ealdorman knows not what to do. And I couldn't wait to lose our babes. I grabbed them and ran. There were two of us to go, but Galka… she… she…" She sobbed quietly and wiped her nose. "Wolves got her, snatched right off the cart. I could do nothin. Nothin…"

"Where are you heading?" Geralt asked.

"Ellander. The temple of Mother. With Ladies gone, our Mother shall take us in. She should. She could not leave us."

"She won't," Kain said. "You'll be safe in there."

"Yea, I hope so, m'lord. Them babes lost their homes and parents. I can't let them perish, too."

"It's a safe road from here," said Geralt. "You stop at Dorndal and travel to Ellander next day. Here," he produced a few coins from his pouch, "should get you through."

"Oh, m'lord! No words! Thank thee! Thank thee!"

"All children from Downwarren?"

"Nay, some from the bog orphanage," she said, hiding the coins in her purse. "Bloody Baron came and took the woman away – she was taking care of them kids. His men brought them to us, gave us some orens to take them. We did – not for orens, m'lords, but for carin. They needed some people with them, yea. They all good kids."

"They are," Geralt murmured. "Anything of the Baron?"

"Nay, m'lord. They say he went away to mountains to seek a healer, but we dunno."

"Never returned?"

"Not that we hear of, nay."

The witchers watched the cart roll away, then proceeded on their own.

Geralt clenched his jaw. "What is happening to that damn place? We killed the Crones, Ciri killed the Riders. What more of it?"

"The Hunt don't keep all their units in one place. Not anymore. They're getting smarter about it."

"We can't leave until I find out what happened."

Geralt went to Roach as they prepared to leave. Kain clucked his tongue, calling Onyx, and mounted, looking grim in thought. They rode on with no further delay.

* * *

Once they stepped through, they were on the familiar boat's deck, Yennefer's boots covered with an inch of new snow, the mast and other intricate areas depicting the result of their fight with the djinn they'd summoned the last time.

"Geralt and I did a decent search of the vessel the last time we were here," Yennefer began, her chatter accompanied by a puff of smoke to indicate the drastic change in temperature. "But we'd been searching for something else wholly." A broken coin-shaped seal lost beneath the snow. Yennefer hadn't bothered to take it away with her when they left, knowing she'd never be able to use it again.

She'd reduced it to a useless relic.

"This time I plan to make a more systematic attempt at either finding the tome or a clue as to its whereabouts."

Yennefer led the way to the open door she knew housed what remained of Amos var Ypsis. Her only hope was that in their carelessness to tidy up after themselves they didn't damage the information they'd needed or lost it.

There was a lot of information and changes to scenery to digest all at once, and Ciri suddenly felt like she was thirteen again and back under Yennefer's tutelage.

She pulled her cloak a little tighter around her as she examined their surroundings and quickly deduced they were on a Skellige island, indeed. Ard Skellig, perhaps?

Yennefer didn't address the fact they were on a shipwreck atop a snowy mountain, as though it was something perfectly ordinary and something one would expect to find on a hike. Of course, she had been here before and would have questioned the very same things that now raced through Ciri's head.

How the blazes had a shipwreck ended up atop a mountain? It had to be magic. If not some freak storm.

"If the book is here, will it be intact?" Ciri mused, trudging through the snow and following Yennefer below deck where the wind was not quite as ruthless. "How long has this ship been here like this?"

And where was the rest of it? From what Ciri could tell, it had been broken in half. Something that actually helped with what would otherwise have been a severe lack of light down in the hull.

It didn't look like much from first glance. Just broken furniture scattered about the floor. Ciri approached to examine a few wooden chests that contained flasks and flagons of unidentified liquid.

"Was he an alchemist, this scribe?" Ciri distractedly asked Yennefer while rooting through the various items, her attention suddenly snatched elsewhere when she noticed a body lying next to a giant bookcase, its head slightly caved in. "Oh," she said, rising to her feet and pointing, surprised. "Corpse."

The cold must have preserved it better than the heat would because even if the man looked to have been dead for quite some time, rot had been slow to set in.

"Is that... Is that him? Your scribe?"

"That would be him," Yennefer said, hardly sparing the body much mind. She'd seen it and aside from the fact that it was still preserved, nothing else had changed. None that she cared to see. She supposed she should offer the mage a better burial than to rot away on the deck of his beloved boat next to his damned bookshelf, but she couldn't be bothered. She knew the man from literature alone, knew what he was capable of, and—deep down—harbored a resentment.

How could a man who'd made such a clumsy wish, hold the key to a secret mages and thieves had been fighting and murdering for so long?

Yennefer knew she was being harsh. If she'd succeeded in snaring a djinn all those years ago – this flattened corpse could have very well been her.

"If we're going to be stuck in here with var Ypsis for a prolonged period of time, we'd best find something to lay over his corpse."

Yennefer assumed Ciri would take care of that, and moved to scan the book titles, plucking them off the shelf one at a time, flicking through them in search of false covers, hiding magic or some kind of note before tossing them aside dismissively.

"What do you think happened to him?" Ciri asked, tugging at one of the fabrics she had found in a chest. It was more of a doily than a sheet, and mostly only covered the dead man's head. Or what remained of it.

"The bookcase fell on top of him and crushed his skull," Yennefer said without looking up from one of said murder weapons she was rifling through. "Last time we were here, Geralt lifted it off him. We hardly lingered in here very long so didn't bother with the last rite formalities."

Ciri shrugged. "Don't think he'd notice either way. So, what else do you know about this book? Any hints on what it might look like? Which language it is written in?"

"I assume it's in his native tongue or coded in such a way that it might appear as gibberish to anyone that isn't a mage."

Yennefer tossed aside another book into the far left corner of the room where it hit the floor with a loud bang. She picked up another, then another, coming to the conclusion that, although the man's wish had been ill-thought and rash, his hiding skills and taking care of who got a djinn in their hands weren't.

Not that it was an admirable trait.

From what Yennefer had learned when she stumbled upon the first book, it was that he'd been looking to sell it to the highest bidder. Emhyr had been that bidder.

There were what felt like hundreds of books to go through and once she'd cleared the first point of her appointed shelf she started, diverting her attention to the floor.

"Geralt checked the chests the last time he was here… and it makes sense to hide the book in plain sight, in the most inconspicuous way possible…"

Yennefer growled low after another unsuccessful find with frustration, moving to paw over the scattered documents and other less assuming ledgers buried in dust.

Ciri sighed and stepped to the intimidating bookshelf as well, running her fingertip over the spines of the nearest books. "So you don't think he stashed it away in a secret compartment?"

It could be possible, in Ciri's mind. Ships had many hiding places. She'd explored several as a child on her grandmother's fleet.

She paused to eye Yennefer with consideration. The sorceress was clearly already agitated and impatient, even if their hunt had only just started.

"And if we don't find it here, what then?"

"It's probable," Yennefer added. "I've never met the man in person and don't know how his mind worked. I found his first book on a whim in Emhyr's library."

Ciri flinched at the sound of Emhyr's name, but she didn't comment. It felt wrong, however, that Yennefer had ever resided at his palace. Worked for him. Maybe even been his confidant?

Ciri didn't know and she found she didn't want to dig deeper on that topic.

Yennefer glossed over the piece of paper in her hand, finding something she thought might have been of some use and tucked it into her pocket before moving onto the next item.

"If we don't find it among the books, we'll go to the floorboards."

Yennefer walked over blanketed mage and peeled the material away from the side of his corpse, leaving his ruined face covered while she searched him. She found a letter in his left side pocket, stained with blood from his head injury and sticky.

She set it on the wood floor to smooth it out, careful as she peeled the flaps apart, making sure that, despite the run of ink inside, she didn't add to the ruin.

There were a lot of the words inside that she couldn't make out, but thankfully the bits and pieces she could suggested that he'd delivered copies of his notes on the book to a scholar. Unfortunately, she couldn't make out the name or where that could be. She folded it closed, tucked it into her pocket and stood, hopeful that the contents of the letter had been a mere failed aim.

"Seems our chilled acquaintance didn't have time to finish the second book."

Ciri moved to look over Yennefer's shoulder at the letter in her hands, unable to glean but a few words before the sorceress had tucked it away.

"Does that mean we have nothing to search for? Or that we're looking for an incomplete book?"

"I guess either is a possibility."

All the man's personal effects were all over the place. If it wasn't in this half of the ship, there was a distinct possibility it might be in the other half at the bottom of the ocean or lost to the current.

Yennefer covered the mage back up and then slowly stood, heading back to the bookshelf to continue looking through the books.

"If you come across any other letters, notes, or anything relating to his first book about the djinn, keep it to one side. It might contain the name of the scholar he mentioned."

"Noted," Ciri said and continued the search for anything on djinns. She nudged some debris aside with her foot. "And you're absolutely certain there's just one copy? Would be a shame if we're doing all this work if there are several copies in the bookshops of Novigrad."

"Yes, I'm certain. Var Ypsis might have been rash and made a trivial mistake that got him killed, but he wasn't an idiot. To put material out there like this in droves would be dangerous. It's already dangerous. A lot of people want to tame djinns. For good reason."

Yennefer motioned a hand and five books jumped from the shelf at once, hovering in the air, their pages fanning out as if caught in a breeze, her eyes fixed on the floor in case anything fell out.

"What would you wish for if you were able?"

"Considering yours and Geralt's luck? Nothing," Ciri snorted, throwing another few books into the discarded pile. "Though if the wish was foolproof, I'd wish Eredin and his riders out of existence."

"Fair wish. Let's say Eredin wasn't in the picture, the battle was over – we won – what else would you wish for? Riches? A home?"

Yennefer checked the books one at a time to see their writing, dismissing them to the pile when they proved useless, moving onto the next with another twist of her wrist.

"I don't know," Ciri smiled, bashful. "A good life. You and I travelling with Geralt through perilous areas, slaying monsters... you know, normal girly things."

"You don't need a djinn to make that happen," Yennefer mused, smiling at Ciri softly. She couldn't wait to solve that problem for Ciri so she could be free.

Yennefer focused on her floating books, bending to pick up the half bits and pieces that fluttered to the floor. She inspected them, pocketed the paper and then tossed the books to the dismiss pile.

She made a motion for the next load and saw another something flutter to the floor at Ciri's feet. Another letter.

Ciri followed the line of Yennefer's gaze and bent to retrieve the paper at her feet.

The sheet had been ripped from the top, most of the text missing except for a few legible sentences.

"The last delivery has been made. Your fee awaits you in Novigrad at Vivaldi's Bank." Ciri handed the sorceress the slip of paper. "This make any sense to you?"

Yennefer checked the books, keeping one aside before tossing the rest and took the slip of paper from Ciri. She read it over herself.

"None. But at least it's something to follow up on."

Yennefer slid the piece of paper into her coat to join the first letter and looked at the mess they'd made. There were only a handful of books left on the shelf and, from the looks of them, she didn't think they would hold very many answers.

She checked them, anyway.

When she was done, she stepped away from it entirely, focusing on the floor, muttering the same incantation she had when she'd sailed with Geralt to be able to look through the density of the wood to see if anything was stashed.

Ciri didn't disturb Yennefer while she worked her magic, and instead knelt beside the dead man. Yennefer had already checked his pockets, so Ciri didn't bother replicating the action.

She looked him over once more and eventually moved to tug the man's boot off. First one, then the other.

Ciri briefly worried the feet would come off as well, but the frost luckily saved them from that experience.

"It's where I would hide something precious," she explained, having caught Yennefer's dubious look. "I once overheard a story back at grandmother's court about spies who, when caught by the enemy, would take their own lives with poison instead of suffering through torment and interrogation. Some of these spies..." Ciri reached into one boot, her fingers searching the lining, "...had clothes with special secret pockets made. For concealment."

The first boot held nothing, but the second...

Ciri withdrew her hand and peered down at a circular stone in her palm. It was dark and smooth and one side carried a carving of a symbol Ciri was not familiar with.

She held it up for Yennefer's inspection.

"What is this? A trinket for luck?" She cast a look at the wrecked ship. "If so, I think it's broken."

"It's a key," Yennefer replied after a second's inspection of the symbol etched into the stone. "Reputable mages with a good handle of the craft sometimes use it to store their personally crafted spells or anything else they consider valuable. Thieves dismiss it unless they're actually aware of its meaning as nothing more than a bauble – as you did."

Yennefer closed her fist around the stone, letting slip a chant to help with its partner's location, an unseen thread that slowly and faintly began to nudge her for the outside. She followed it until she appeared on the boat's edge, an arm extended within the direction of the sea and where she knew the other half of the ship would be found nestled on the seafloor.

"That's inconvenient," Yennefer muttered.

Ciri followed Yennefer up on deck and eyed the thread of her magic, squinting to see where it ended in the distance. "I take it that is the rest of this ship? And we have to go down there?"

"If we want to know what he treasures – we do."

Yennefer closed her hand around the stone and slid it into her pocket along with the letters.

"We'll have to get a boat. Unfortunately, the location of the shipwreck is between the isles and opening a portal there or even just going down there is going to be inconceivably hard as we don't know where the other piece of the puzzle is."

They'd also have to find someone to go down there. Easily solved for a few crowns. Yennefer could make them forget afterward.

She scanned the deck, studying the room they'd been inside for the last hour and then what remained of the boat. There was nothing else to check.

"We have quite a bit of daylight left, but I'm not too sure I trust the weather holding up. I think we're done for the day."

"So we're not going down there immediately?" Ciri asked, a little disappointed. "I can be the one to dive. I can't hold my breath as long as a witcher but I can get myself out a lot quicker."

Yennefer could portal Ciri directly there since she'd been to the very spot before. However, she also knew it was dangerous and that there was a real risk of Ciri getting as sick.

"You'll get sick. You could also get hurt."

She also wouldn't be able to keep a close eye on Ciri.

Ciri grinned crookedly. "The same can be said about setting foot outside the door of Dandelion's inn. Come on, Yennefer. Can you really trust anyone as much as me?"

"No, of course not… it has nothing to do with trust," Yennefer argued, flashing back to what Kain had said in the temple gardens. She touched a chilled hand to Ciri's cheek. "I don't want you to get hurt and that water – it's freezing. There's sirens down there. Other creatures I can't even recall. Have you ever faced something similar before?"

Only that night when Ciri had taken a boat out to the tower and ended up getting attacked by sirens. Griffin had saved her then.

"Sort of, but it's different now. I can use my powers if I get in trouble."

"It's a long way down to the bottom. How are you going to be able to breathe?"

Ciri would be down there longer than Geralt was because they'd be looking for something specific. Yennefer, of course, could help her point it out – but it would take time – and trying to slow Ciri's heart as she'd done for Geralt would be dangerous. Ciri wasn't a mutant, she was human, and to do something like that would weaken her. There was another means… she could spell something…

"I was thinking of holding my breath," Ciri revealed but didn't fight her cause further. For now.

"There's a town not too far off from here. We'll go there, get a few items and a boat."

"Do you know how to use a boat?" Ciri asked the sorceress with a grin. Yennefer was so glamorous it was hard to imagine her doing any kind of physical work.

"I do. Do you know how to use a boat?" Yennefer asked, bringing up one of her hands, summoning a new portal. She took Ciri's hand and before long the two appeared on the other side, a short distance away from prying eyes, on the main road leading into the small fishing community.

"Yes. Boats, that is. Not ships. As far as I understand one can't run a ship with just one person."

With her hand still in Yennefer's, Ciri started towards the small village up ahead. She wasn't sure if she had been here before or not. It was quite possible; Crach an Craite had taken her to several of the islands when she'd visited as a child.

Yennefer and Ciri stood out among the people and were approached almost at once by competitive fishmongers, tailors, and a child hopeful about making an oren from the innkeeper. Yennefer dismissed them. Usually, she liked to walk around as hidden as possible, but her venture was unplanned and in order to achieve it she needed to shop. And she did, studying every stall, checking every herb they had to offer until eventually, she found a few she could use. She needed another means to make sure Ciri would be safe beneath the water and that she could breathe and the only way to do that was to spell a device.

Thereafter she'd have to take a break from the magic. At least for a bit.

Yennefer's hand disappeared into one of her coat pockets, removing a couple of crowns, all of which she stuffed into Ciri's.

"Go negotiate a boat for the morning. I'll meet you at the inn."

"Will do." Ciri had to admit she felt quite pleased about this turn of events. She was given more responsibility than she would had she still been that young girl under Yennefer's tutelage. And Geralt's for that matter.


	63. Chapter 63

"I don't get how it can be," Geralt complained as they set into a trot to let horses rest from extensive galloping. "How is it possible for them to have survived it?"

"I don't know, I wasn't there," Kain responded. "How exactly did she defeat them?"

"I wish I knew how to explain," the Witcher scoffed. "She was in a sort of a trance, angry, furious - like back at the Bald Mountain. She did the same thing, but rather to the dimension they were in. It started collapsing, and she whisked us away. I..." He heaved a sigh and reached for the water flask. "I didn't see enough, I'm afraid. It was hard to make sense of the chaos inside there."

"I understand," Kain nodded, his brow furrowed in heavy contemplation.

Geralt watched him for a while, then broke the silence. "What?"

Kain blinked, as if yanked from a slumber, and gave Geralt a bewildered look. "I don't know. I can't judge something I haven't seen nor felt."

"Don't fool me pretending you have no thoughts on it at all."

"My thoughts can scarcely help anything. But yes, I do have some. It's strange for me to believe she was capable of destroying all three Crones and their sanctuary despite the additional magic they drew from my blood. They should've been able to fight her, to prevent it, using the acquired Elder Blood power against hers. And yet she alone beat the three of them. You don't deem it strange?"

Geralt frowned darkly, searching himself for any argument. "Two of them were barely back, and the third was weakened by whatever she'd done to get them back," he ventured.

"Even so, you underestimate their power. They've been around for a very long time, their lands were soaked with their magic, and they had their own dimension to hide in. That wide a net requires an immense power that feeds from everything it can reach - people, marshes, animals, creatures, worshipping and sacrifices. They had a little world of their own in those swamps, Geralt. And then Ciri just shoots it to hell with one clap of her hands?"

Geralt stared at his brother, scowling, then an idea flashed in his mind. "Maybe it's what she did - send them off someplace else? Be it hell or another world, I don't care for as long as it's not here."

"Moving a dimension from world to world feels complicated. I'm not sure..."

"Once there, will you be able to sense anything?"

"Maybe... But I've been there with Yennefer, and I didn't sense their presence. It doesn't feel as if they're around, anymore."

"Then she did it? Either way, they're gone?"

"I would say they are," Kain succumbed.

"How do you explain that woman's raving? Who, or what, can be so powerful to send those swarms of drowners, hags and ghouls to attack people?"

"I wouldn't bet on the Hunt," the Cat Witcher reasoned.

"They have wizards," Geralt reminded.

"It would be strange if Aen Elle wizards could command the creatures of this world with such ease. The only creatures they use are their hounds, but we don't know whether they breed them specifically for war or tame them. I think it's former."

"Why?"

"Because their abilities are of magical nature, as well. And it's frost magic - the same kind the wizards use. Which means they rather bred the dogs. Frost magic is not a native to their world - it's an intruding force."

Geralt thought about it, and clucked his tongue. "It makes sense. Either way, we have to draw judgement once we're there. Perhaps the Crones weren't the last source of magic in the bog. Something or someone could have been waiting for their chance, and once the Crones were gone, they began to establish their own rule."

"Maybe the godlings know something," Kain suggested. "They're connected to the land and its creatures, they see and sense more."

"If we can find them."

They sent their horses into gallop again.

* * *

Ciri strolled down to the docks, unmindful of the fact she stuck out among the fishermen like a sore thumb, and continued on to one of the boats she found acceptable. Strangely, it was a woman who was attempting to secure its ropes to the docks. Old and with stiff fingers, she wasn't doing a very good job.

Ciri knelt down to help her. "This your boat?"

The old woman stood, wincing at an ache in her back as she straightened. "Aye."

That was unusual. Women not of nobility rarely owned property.

"Used to be me husband's," she explained as Ciri tied the knots. "He was a fisherman. Got himself killed by a flock of sirens two moons ago. Now I don't know what to do with the ruddy thing."

Ciri understood. She didn't think the woman would fare well trying her luck at fishing.

"You could sell it," Ciri suggested.

The old woman grimaced. "Times are too bad to part with coins unless absolutely necessary. Everyone around here have their own boats to tend to as is."

"You could rent it out. To travelers and the like," Ciri continued, earning herself a confused scowl from the woman.

"Travelers?"

Ciri dug her hand into her pocket and retrieved the coins Yennefer had given her, holding them up for the woman to see.

Her eyes went wide at the sight and when Ciri dropped the crowns into her hand, a bargain was struck.

Yennefer bought strips of cloth from the tailors, a collector's basket, two fish pies to keep their energy levels high and tea that she infused with peppermint. Then headed to bargain a room at the local tavern. A tiny room with one narrow cot was available, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Yennefer took it. If she cuddled up with Ciri, she estimated, they would fit on the cot and get some shuteye. It would suffice.

"Were your negotiations successful?" she asked, showing Ciri to their room and shutting the door.

"Entirely," Ciri said.

In the morning she presented their borrowed vessel with a flourish. It wasn't all that big. but had a sail. If the wind was on their side, at least they wouldn't have to row.

She knelt and pulled the boat close by its rope, gesturing for Yennefer to get in. "Lady Yennefer."

The boat was basically a replica of the one Yennefer had procured for Geralt and herself some months ago, only it was far less aesthetically pleasing and stained with fish guts and blood. She could already imagine the smell. She smiled at Ciri and played along with her antics, sliding onto the boat, heading for the back so she could take charge of the rudder.

She waited until Ciri was on the boat, and then freed up the ropes that held the sails so she could add taunt to it and have it slowly haul them from the side of the dock for the open sea.

They hadn't made it very far before she released the sail, gathered what she'd bought and gestured for Ciri to take over. She needed to do some crafting.

"Just keep heading east."

Ciri obeyed, maneuvering past Yennefer to take her place.

"What are you going to do?"

"Make you something to help you breathe beneath the water. I'm not sure it'll work. I've tried it on different occasions, and some attempts have worked with success, and others… not. I also had more to work with in the way of all the right trimmings."

Not that what Yennefer had was that bad, but she'd have done better with buckles, and something actually fashioned to fit Ciri's face so it wouldn't end up being a hindrance. Gratefully, it was for one time use and provide her with the means needed to hang around down there long enough to find the container with the added carving. The next issue was if it would be a chest and how heavy it might be. They'd deal with that difficulty if and when it arose.

Like she'd done with Ciri's armor, she fashioned the half mask with magic, cutting away bits she didn't need, depositing them in the ocean as if she were worried about making a mess. All the while she'd kept an eye on their heading, spitting out directives as needed until eventually the Ingdalen Isle appeared.

"Go around the outside of the isle."

She needed a bit more time and she wanted to get a better feel of the sirens. Ciri was capable of taking care of herself – as much as Geralt was – and yet Yennefer couldn't rid herself of her concern. On land she could have helped, stood by with magic, ready to shield or throw literal fire, in the ocean, beyond her scope of view, there would be nothing she could do but wait. Ciri didn't really mind the risk. This was probably as close to witcher business she'd come since the battle of Oxenfurt, and she wanted to prove to herself, as well as Yennefer and Geralt, that she could do it.

Ciri steered the boat around the two islets, gazing at the circular strait between them where she assumed they would eventually need to go. So far, no sirens could be seen up above. That didn't mean they weren't lurking down in the waters.

"How will I know which chest to look for? There might be several."

"There are several," Yennefer agreed without looking up, the breathing device—nearly at its completion—sat in her lap as she added herbs to the pouch inside, with it, and to activate what she hoped would be the ability to breathe was a symbol for air. She focused her magic on the device, letting it dissolve from her palms as she voiced an incantation. The air around them became suffocating, abruptly pushing the sails with a wisp of force that jerked the small boat and then settled to the norm. The symbol inside was alight.

Yennefer carefully set the strange facemask on her thighs, twisted upon the wood seat and to navigate the approaching shoreline, raising a hand to gesture Ciri to stop once they got close enough to the place she thought the boat was sunk.

Another spell cast, and like when she'd come with Geralt, she confirmed that the wreckage was below them, along with what she could see to be one or two sirens or drowners.

She was beginning to feel nauseated.

She freed up an apple from the strip of remaining cloth she'd wrapped around it and took a bite, reaching into her pocket for the stone, crooking a finger to beckon Ciri.

"Study this stone for a moment. It'll be carved into whatever container Amos decided to use."

Ciri took the stone and held it the palm of her hand, running her thumb across the carving, studying the rune's lines and sharp angles until she was certain she would recognize it down in the deep.

"Got it," she said, slipping the stone back into Yennefer's care, gesturing to her crafted item. "How does this work?"

Yennefer pocketed the stone again, stood and lifted the half-mask to Ciri's face, indicating lightly how she was supposed to wear it. "The purpose of what I've made is for it to cover your mouth and nose and provide you with the air and ease you'd breathe if on land."

She let Ciri inspect it, and once she was ready, moved behind her to secure the strips of cloth at the back of head with an old fashioned double knot.

"Is it hurting you?"

"No," Ciri said, her voice muffled. "Feels a little strange, though. But as long as it works."

She shrugged out of her heavy coat and removed her sword and boots. They would only weigh her down. Her dagger was allowed to stay in her belt, however. Just in case.

"Alright. Are you ready?" Yennefer looked far more nervous than Ciri felt.

Yennefer nodded hesitantly, wanting to hold her back and keep her from going into the murky water.

"As ready as I can be," the enchantress murmured, raising a hand before Ciri could jump in. "Don't go too far down before you test it. Stay at the surface… make sure it works as it's supposed to and then dive…"

"Of course," Ciri promised airily, diving in soon after.

The water was freezing. It felt like needles stabbing at her skin, and Ciri's head ached from the cold plunge.

She remained beneath the surface despite the instant urge to get back up, swimming deeper. The natural inclination to hold her breath under water didn't allow her to test the efficiency of the mask. Not until her lungs burned in protest. When she finally had to give in, she was amazed at how easy it was.

Now, only the freezing cold was a problem. She swam as quickly as she could, down into the darkness. It quickly dawned on her she should have asked Yennefer for an additional source of light. It would have given her a better overview of the crater-shaped hole where the remains of the wreck rested.

She didn't dwell on it. Had no time. She simply swam as close to the ship as possible, taking hold of the old slippery wood with her hands and allowing it to guide her as she searched.

There was nothing of interest up on deck, and only when Ciri swam in through the gap where the ship had been torn in half did she find several crates and chests. It had probably been the cargo room of the ship.

She searched the various boxes for any sign of the rune-carving but found none. So she was forced to search anew, her limbs trembling and aching from the unbearable cold, her fingers stiff and highly unwilling to cooperate.

When a set of talons grasped at Ciri's arm from behind, she acted on pure instinct, grabbing the dagger from her belt and using her power to shoot forward, letting the momentum of her speed do the work as the blade cut into a siren's skull.

The creature stilled immediately and floated to the surface. In the distance, Ciri saw its approaching sisters.

She urged herself back down to the ship again and shifted crates out of the way by use of magic until a small lockbox that had been nestled between them was revealed. Ciri reached for it greedily and felt a jolt of excitement when she saw the rune clearly atop its lid.

This was the one.

Not a moment too soon. The remaining sirens were coming for her, all slick scales and sharp teeth, reaching for her, craving blood.

With the box tucked under one arm and her dagger abandoned on the ocean floor, Ciri unleashed her own thirst for vengeance, shooting streams of boiling water at the sirens and delighting in their shrieks as they covered their faces with webbed hands.

Another few floated silently towards the surface, while the others rushed away to regroup.

Ciri didn't give them another chance to attack. She jumped back to the boat with a victorious smile concealed beneath her mask.

Yennefer hadn't bothered to sit down since Ciri disappeared beneath the water, her eyes trained on the spot she'd been, watching as bubbles rose and then faded, giving away to the natural sway of the ocean.

She was still staring at the water when she heard a rush of water and saw a body come up, floating above the surface as if once it had died it had been rejected and could no longer stay within the depths of its ocean home.

A siren.

Yennefer cursed softly and uttered the same incantation she'd used to spy on the ocean floor when she'd been with Geralt and they'd searched for the wreck. The spell gripped the boat and allowed her to see through the floorboards but no further than a few spaces before it became useless. It was too deep.

A moment later nausea washed over her and the spell fell away. She'd exerted herself and her body was beginning to rebel. More corpses followed, none—thankfully—belonging to Ciri. Yet. Before she could take a closer look or consider more magic, Ciri appeared in a flash of green, sending the small boat into a gentle rock, a lockbox tucked almost nonchalantly under one of her arms.

The sorceress wanted to hug her.

"Sit," Yennefer commanded, squeezing past Ciri to make a move for the back of the boat, wanting to put some distance between the isle's sirens.

When they were far enough away and she thought they'd have less chance being attacked, she undid the tension in the sails and got to her feet again.

"Were you hurt?"

"Just a few scratches," Ciri said through chattering teeth. "I got it." She handed Yennefer the lockbox and reached for her coat and boots to put them back on.

Yennefer took the lockbox, set it down on the floor of the boat and moved to inspect Ciri's scratches. She'd hate the girl to endure more scars because of her.

When Yennefer was sure it wasn't life-or-death she let her hands graze Ciri's arms, warming her up as she had done by the hot spring so she could get into her clothes without a struggle.

"Thank you for retrieving the lockbox for me."

"It was my pleasure. I do so enjoy adventures." Ciri was grinning, even through the cold. She gestured to the lockbox. "Are you going to open it?"

"Not until we're somewhere safe," Yennefer answered, shaking off the increasing nausea she felt intensify from the added magic she'd used.

She withdrew from Ciri and picked up the lockbox, sliding it beneath the cut off material so that when they approached the docks it wouldn't be spotted and no one would contemplate robbing them of it. They'd drawn enough attention to themselves, the last thing Yennefer wanted was to deal with was thieves before they managed to get back to the inn in Novigrad.

She returned to the back of the boat, set the sail and unhurriedly carried them back to the fishing village.

"Did the mask I made work in your favor? Do you think it's something I should look at marketing?"

"Worked as well as can be expected. Might want to tweak the design, though. Something... sleeker."

"When all this war is over you should help me with that. Any crowns made we can put toward you – your future."

"How much coin does one need travelling the world to slay monsters?" Ciri asked, pulling the coat tighter around herself. "But I will help you. Free of charge. Because I am a loving daughter."

"You are and always have been a loving daughter. That has never been a doubt. Nevertheless, don't you think you need enough coin to be comfortable and well fed? Surely you'll want to have a home of your own one day?"

Ciri shrugged. "I don't know. Never really thought much about it. I've always favored people over places."

"You're still young, that may change," Yennefer stated.

Fifteen minutes later they were back on the dock and Yennefer was collecting the lockbox.

"Do you have it in you to take us back to Novigrad?"

"Of course," Ciri said, making certain the boat was neatly tied up where she had found it earlier. "To the inn?"

Yennefer stepped off the boat with none of her usual grace. She was exhausted. The magic use had done her in quite a bit. "If you please," Yennefer said softly, hugging the lockbox to her chest.

Ciri placed a hand on Yennefer's shoulder and led her a little way off the docks, behind one of the shacks where they could travel without anyone noticing.

* * *

A second later they were in Geralt's room at the inn. Yennefer looked like she could use some time to rest. But Ciri still had to ask. She was curious.

"Will you open it now?"

Yennefer nodded and shuffled over to the bed, sinking down onto the edge, removing the cloth from around the lockbox. She let the fabric flutter to the floor, removed the stone from her pocket and slid it into the groove within the wood made to cradle it. The lockbox opened. Inside was a handful of parchment with messy script that was almost illegible (untouched by the water it had been submerged in) and half stubs belonging to an assortment of banks. One such bank she recognized was in Novigrad.

"No jewels," Yennefer teased, smiling tiredly. "However, it seems we'll have to make a trip to the bank and see if we can collect whatever Amos has stored there."

"Do you wish me to go there alone?" Ciri asked because Yennefer looked dead on her feet, while Ciri felt quite rejuvenated by their little trip.

She removed the fur coat and draped it over the solitary chair in the room, loosening her hair and ruffling it to make it look more presentable despite the effects of the saltwater.

Yennefer wanted to take Ciri up on her proposal, but at the same time she wasn't sure if her daughter had ever dealt with bankers before. They could talk circles around people.

"It's probably best if I go with you."

Yennefer sighed and lay back on the mattress to get of the rest her body desired. "How much daylight is left?"

Ciri cast a gander at the window, calculating. "I don't know. Two hours?"

Two hours was plenty, and yet, now that Yennefer had stretched out on the bed she couldn't even think about getting to her feet. She flipped the lid shut on the lockbox, murmured a word and heard the stone pop free of its spot on the box as it fell to the mattress.

"We'll wait until the morning to tend to the bank," Yennefer said, forcing herself to sit up, collecting the stone so she could pocket it and keep it safe. She pushed the lockbox in Ciri's direction and gestured to another chest pushed against the wall out of the way.

It held Yennefer's herbs, relics and other devices she'd made or bought to help her with magic.

"Put the box in the chest."

Ciri obeyed, then made for the door. "I will go find you something to eat and drink. Help get your strength back. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Don't worry with the food, I'm not hungry," Yennefer replied, smiling her thanks, following Ciri's progress to the door. She was supposed to be keeping an eye on Ciri and presently she could hardly keep them open. "Tend to yourself and keep out of trouble?"

"Always do," Ciri jibed and closed the door behind her.

Downstairs she found Zoltan behind the counter. She leaned on it with her elbows and fixed him with an imploring smile. "Is there food?"

The dwarf laughed cheerfully, closing his accounting book. "Not that ye have to ask that, Ciri - of course there is! Dinner time is comin! Ye know it's sacred, even if we don' open yet." He stepped around the counter, his mien mischievous. "Fried chicken with a siding of baked apples and cranberry sauce. How 'bout it?"

"Sounds divine!" Ciri grinned and sat down. "Are you certain you can afford to waste such good food on a non-paying customer?"

Zoltan scoffed loudly on his way to the kitchen. "Yer family, lassie."

He returned in a few minutes with a tray loaded with two huge dishes holding whole fried chickens surrounded by baked apples and peppered with spices and herbs. He set the dishes down, then two small bowls with the sauce and gave her a proud look.

"You're a treasure," Ciri said, eyeing the food with a watering mouth. "Everyone should have a Zoltan of their own."

She helped him move the plates off the tray and slipped off her chair to find them glasses.

"Nah," he waved a hand, settling across from her. "Yer just hungry. What of yer sorceress? She hungry, too? If she's around, that is. Haven't seen her since ye two bolted."

"She's more tired than hungry," Ciri explained. "She'll probably demand something a little later after she's rested." She cut a piece of chicken and ate. "So, has Dandelion not been back since the attack?"

"Demand," Zoltan snorted into his mug, then shook his head a no. "Still back at Oxenfurt. Baskin' in all the glory he can gather while he can. Triss and two of them witches are there, too. Maybe he plans on going back with one of them once they're done rebuildin'."

"And, um, what is he actually doing?" Ciri found it hard to believe Dandelion would take part in the physical rebuilding of the city's lost buildings.

"No clue. Maybe bossin' them around commandin' where which statue goes, I dunno." He shrugged, dipping another drumstick into sauce, and sunk his teeth into the juicy meat. "Ye can go see him."

"I think I will, if Yennefer is going to sleep the evening away."

Ciri's gaze drifted to the stairs where Avallac'h was just descending. He didn't spare either of them a glance and simply sat down at one of the empty tables.

Ciri chewed on her chicken, trying not to look too amused.

Zoltan granted the elf a brief gander, then sighed and reached for a napkin.

"I'll get yer friend some meal," he grumbled, sliding off the chair, and headed for the kitchen.

Ciri could feel Avallac'h's gaze on the back of her neck, burning so intensely it was hard not to turn around. She couldn't be certain of what he was feeling, but if her past experiences of taunting him with Lara had any worth, he would be silently fuming.

"You left again," he said calmly. More of an observation than accusation.

Even without looking, Ciri knew that was meant for her. There were no one else in the room since Zoltan left.

"Yes," she said simply, tearing another chunk of meat off her chicken.

"Where to?"

She didn't answer for a long time, mulling over the decision of whether to tell him the truth or not. She came to the conclusion it wouldn't truly do much harm to tell him. And yet, it felt private. Yennefer and Geralt's business more than Ciri's.

"You don't need to know," Ciri said finally.

"There was a time you would tell me everything," he responded.

Ciri narrowed her eyes, her gaze set on her glass in front of her. "That was before I learned your affection for me is false. The means to an end."

"What makes you think such a thing, Zireael?" His voice was soft. Deceptively so. Ciri wouldn't let herself be snared again.

"It's evident in the way you treat me. The way you speak to me." She just had to have someone else point it out before she could truly see it for herself.

"As a pupil?" Avallac'h asked. "A child in need of guidance?"

"As dirt beneath your shoe," Ciri answered heatedly. "As something disgusting you are forced to drag around with you for the time being."

"You are wrong," he said with that same infuriating calm. "You, Zireael, are the only one I have cared for in quite some time."

Ciri stabbed at her food with her fork, trying to block that statement out and not linger on it. She could not be drawn in by him again. No matter how good it felt to be loved by him.

Another moment of stretched silence.

"You went swimming," Avallac'h mused.

Ciri turned in her seat, a look of astonishment on her face, their most recent thread of conversation temporarily forgotten.

How did he know such things? How could he possibly know?

"Did you follow us?" she asked suspiciously, though she couldn't see how that was possible. Avallac'h could not travel by will like she and Yennefer.

His lips tilted in an almost imperceptible smile as he watched her. "No need. Your hair."

Ciri frowned. "What?"

"I know you, Zireael. We've been together for years. Your hair... it only curls like that in saltwater."

Ciri reached for her long locks. They were indeed more wavy than normal.

Avallac'h's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, even as he watched her. "Hers did the same."

She stared, confused, yet suspecting. Lara Dorren. It always came back to her.

Ciri turned back to her meal, a contemplative frown locked in place. She heard the scraping of Avallac'h's chair as he stood and soon after felt his hand on her shoulder. His voice was soft.

"I hope there will come a time when you will confide in me again, Zireael. I am the one who knows you best. The one who can help you." His hand fell away and the elf glided towards the stairs. "Tell the dwarf I will take my meal upstairs."

Then he was gone and Ciri was left feeling a growing sense of unease and longing.

Zoltan returned not a full minute later with a tray in his hands. He grimaced annoyance at the sight of the Sage's empty table.

"Ah, sod the damn elf!" he hissed, and looked to Ciri as if for an explanation. "Went upstairs, didn't he, the ploughin' bastard?"

"Afraid so," Ciri said, no longer able to eat the rest of her food. "Just leave it for the next person to come down for dinner. You don't have to serve him, Zoltan."

"Ye ploughin' right I don't," he nodded, and sighed, shaking his head. "But it's about the pride of this establishment, lassie. Not about me."

He went for the stairs.

"Pour me some ale, will ye," he threw over his shoulder, climbing the steps.

Ciri stood and moved behind the counter to pour Zoltan his drink, taking the time to clear away her own plate while he was otherwise occupied.

Her little chat with Avallac'h had put her in a mood and she now felt the need to leave the inn behind for a few hours.

Zoltan came back quickly, and announced, "Left it at his door like he's in prison," as he sat down to finish his meal. He bit another juicy piece of meat and chewed, studying her. "Ye all right? He tell ye something nasty?"

Ciri shook her head, sipping from what remained of her drink. "No more than usual. Certain elves are just... difficult to get along with."

"Certain?" he chortled. "All of them bony arses are difficult, I tell ye."

The dwarf downed his ale and picked a baked apple with his fork.

"Tell me how yer doin'. Spent a bit of time away from him - guess it felt good, eh?"

"Yes, it did." Though Ciri could admit to herself she missed what the two had a year ago. The absolute certainty Avallac'h had her best interest at heart.

"But I am doing fine. Better than fine now we're back and can start plotting again."

"Plottin'?" He perked up an eyebrow.

"What to do about The Hunt. I'd like there to be a day when we are the attackers. Take them by surprise."

Zoltan frowned, pondering as he chewed. "But hell knows where those bastards are," he reasoned. "Wasn't it another world? No mage I ever heard of could bring an army through a portal. I heard plenty of those died tryin'."

"They say I can," Ciri said, eyes on her drink. "Maybe one day... Even if I were to die, it'd be worth it."

"No, lassie, it would mean they won." He looked at her with a somber face, a bit sad. "No need to stick our noses into their damned world. We better figure out how to keep theirs from ours. Let 'em die out there like rats if we block their ways in. I wish I knew how it's done, but then I'm no mage or scholar."

"I've been to their world. It's beautiful." Ciri emptied her glass and smiled softly at Zoltan. "We'll be victorious in the end. You'll see. We are more powerful than Eredin predicted."

"Yer more powerful," the dwarf emphasized, smiling. "And yer kitten witcher. The rest of us not mages are tryin' to help the best we can. Our strength is in numbers and team work. Though them elves work well together, I should give 'em that. So we need a better plan." He pricked the last apple with his fork and sank his teeth in it.

She whispered cunningly. "That's where the plotting comes in."

Ciri stood and stretched, eyeing the door. "I think I shall go see Dandelion. Make sure he is still alive. Will you let Yennefer know if she asks for me?"

"Of course," he sighed as if the mere reminder of a sorcerer wore him out. "Ye might as well tell him he's got a cabaret in Novigrad to manage, in case he forgot."

* * *

When Ciri arrived in Oxenfurt, it didn't take her long to track down Dandelion.

The streets were fairly busy, mostly with townspeople putting away their work for the day, whether that be their merchant stalls or building materials. No point in such work when darkness had fallen for the night.

She found Dandelion in the tavern where the two had once shared a meal, fiddling with his lute and surrounded by admirers of the female variety. They didn't even look up as Ciri approached.

"Hard at work, I see."

"Ciri! Finally!" He jumped up, his lute swinging back over his shoulder with flourish of being executed for years. "Excuse me, ladies and lords, I have to give time to my precious friend here. I thank thee for your willing ear. We shall continue at another time."

He bowed and slipped through the disappointed crowd, herding Ciri in front of him toward a free table, no doubt reserved for him by the owner.

"Where have you been?" he inquired when they sat. "Where is Geralt?"

Ciri couldn't help but take some sick satisfaction in the crowd's disappointment and Dandelion's prioritization of her over them. Therefore, she had a smile on her face when she settled opposite him.

"We killed the Crones of Crookback Bog," she said casually. "Then stayed a few days with Nenneke to recover."

Dandelion gasped loudly, stilling, and slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes gaping at her over his hand. "Oh gods, Ciri! You did?! Oh, darn, I had to be there! Must have been such a grand adventure! How could you leave me out? How could you?!"

"They would have eaten you alive, Dandelion. Literally. They liked to do that."

She laughed softly at his outraged expression.

"Yennefer and I returned today by magic. Geralt and Kain chose to travel by horse."

"No wonder there," he scoffed, then frowned at her again. "I won't forgive you until you give me every detail of how it happened. And... you said recover? You had to recover? What happened and how bad was it? Is everyone all right? Or did they... eat someone's leg or arm? How's Geralt?"

"They managed to get Kain. Nearly bled him dry." Ciri lowered her voice as a couple passed their table, not wanting her story to carry to the rest of the group. "We had to get him to Nenneke to help him heal. Geralt is fine." She gave the bard a pointed look. "As is Yennefer, thank you for asking."

"Oh gods," he gasped, his face as eager as a five-year-old's when presented with a new toy. "That's awful... Is he fine now? I'm glad the rest of you came out all right. But, Ciri, how reckless of you! It's not just some monster contract. It's bigger... How did you do it? You have to tell me all of it, ALL of it. Now. You hungry? Thirsty?"

He waved a hand, and a young girl hurried from the counter to get his order - it was a bottle of Erveluce and a fried rabbit leg.

"Zoltan's already fed me, but I could use a glass of wine." The serving girl smiled and nodded and headed off to tend to her new order.

Ciri leaned in close to Dandelion again, enjoying his rapt attention. Unlike Avallac'h, he wouldn't truly chide her. He was too preoccupied with the story of it all.

"He was close to dying for what felt like ages, but after a while he recovered little by little. He seems fine now."

She paused when the girl returned with her wine then proceeded to tell Dandelion everything. Well, mostly everything. She told him of the fog and how she and the witchers had been separated, how Kain had been captured by the wily crone, and how Geralt and Ciri had recruited Yennefer's help to get them into the Crones' dimension. As well as the Crones' downfall.

"They had already alerted The Hunt. There was a scouting party in the bog a few days later, probably thinking the crones would deliver us to them all neatly wrapped up in a bow."

"Oh horror, Ciri!" Dandelion exclaimed, pouring wine. "Are they still there? Are there more? What if they come back here? We just finished making the Academy yard look decent!"

"Don't worry," she assured him, one hand squeezing his before claiming her glass. "They died screaming. Well, most of them."

Dandelion frowned, confused. "What does it mean? You've defeated the whole Hunt, too?! Really? Is it over now?!"

"Of course not. Don't be silly. I meant the scouting party Eredin sent."

"But... are there more? And what are their plans? We're still living in fear here. What if another attack is coming? So many died..."

"How would we know that?" Ciri frowned as well. "Think Nenneke told us?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we've been spending our time defeating the Crones and then with Nenneke at the temple. Where would we get intel on what The Hunt is planning further?"

"How would I know? Maybe you managed to find out anything before, you know... killing that scouting unit? It would be truly helpful to find out anything. Look at us, Ciri, we're defenseless here. Practically defenseless! Our sorceresses can do some marvelous things, but the enemy numbers surpass anything we can put against them. Well, save the Nilfgaardians, I guess." He drank.

Ciri's eyes took on a faraway look; she was deep in her thoughts. "I suppose I could have tortured them to give up their secrets. But such low status soldiers rarely know much anyway."

"Ciri," Dandelion reprimanded, "you don't have to do such things. It's a job befitting people like Dijkstra and Philippa Eilhart. Leave it to them. They might have no soul to lose anymore."

She smiled a little. "You all think I'm so young and innocent. That I am not capable of cruelty. Trust me, Dandelion, I am more than capable."

The poet looked hurt. "Is it something to rejoice about? Or you think Geralt and I should be proud of your skills in cruelty?" He sighed. "Ciri, we understand you're a grown-up, but it doesn't mean innocence is something shameful or... or silly solely befitting a child."

"Innocence in this world gets you killed," Ciri said somberly. "You don't have to be proud. But you should know I don't need anyone to perform acts of cruelty for me. If it has to happen, I can do it."

"But then you should understand that both of us would always try to prevent it - because it's you. We love you, Ciri. It's not a weakness to let yourself be loved by your family. And you get so defensive at times... It's like that love is a burden. Is it, Ciri?"

"It is if you hold me back. If you cage me." Because her magic would not allow such a thing. It had taken Ciri a long time to truly understand, but she did now; her power could save or destroy the world. And she would not be forced to hide anymore.

Dandelion was astonished. "How do we cage you, Ciri?"

"You want me to be who I was before. You want the child. The girl who depended on everyone else to save her. Because she wasn't strong enough to do for herself." Ciri drank. "I'm not her anymore, Dandelion. That girl died in the Korath desert."

"Ciri," he gasped, his hand rising to his chest as if something pinched in there. "How can you say that? We accept you for who you are, who you've become. We love you for you - not for any of our expectations. It's just..." He searched himself for better wording. "Is it so bad and unforgivable of us to want only the best for you? Do you truly blame Geralt for wishing you a life without fights and violence and torture that you have to inflict? Is it so wrong to wish you didn't have to do these things?"

"You can wish it with all your might, but that doesn't change the fact that it's the reality I live in. And have for many, many years." She drank again, her expression thoughtful. "Geralt was angry because I killed those Hunt soldiers. As if I didn't have the right."

Dandelion studied her with a sort of wariness you reserve for your trusty old mare that's suddenly bolted and thrown you off. "Perhaps you've misinterpreted his sentiments," he dared assume, while deep down he felt he understood Geralt's feelings perfectly.

Ciri shook her head, speaking into her cup. "No. It's because he doesn't trust me. He doesn't think I can walk and hold a sword without impaling myself upon it. You should have seen the way he looked at me..."

Ciri didn't even truly know how to describe it. All she knew was that Geralt had never given her such a look before and it somehow felt as though he had screamed at her.

"Of course he looked at you all funny - he was scared for you!" Dandelion argued. "I am, too! We're always scared to lose you and you insist of putting yourself in danger. It worries us and always will, because we care about you a great deal, Ciri! Don't you understand?"

Ciri tilted her head as she watched him, trying to decipher the emotion on Dandelion's face. "Geralt is constantly in danger. I don't try to make him hide," she said. "You should be pleased I am able to take care of myself. That life has taught me how to do that."

"We are! But you can't fault us for worrying. No one makes you hide - we're trying to help you get your freedom the best we all can."

"You're upset," Ciri noted, her brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because you say such things!" he nearly cried, but kept his voice low. "Such unfair things! I've known Geralt for decades and he's not what you describe. He'd never want to keep you locked or unhappy. He'd rather die."

Then why did Ciri feel like everything had been the opposite of that lately?

She watched Dandelion for a long time, trying to read his features. But she found nothing more to enlighten her. So she shrugged. "If you say so."

Shock thrust through Dandelion like a spiked sword, but he managed to keep his face on mere confusion. He reached for his glass and downed it in one swallow, his breath hitching for a moment.

"Did... um... Did Geralt tell you something that made you think these things?" he managed.

"No. Of course not." Ciri said pleasantly, closing herself off. She shouldn't have said anything. Dandelion would surely tell Geralt everything and then she would have to face more questions. As though there was something wrong with her.

Ciri drained her cup and stood.

"Zoltan asked me to remind you about your cabaret?"

Dandelion blinked, then recognition flashed in his eyes. "Wants me to return and mind the bar while he gambles the nights away."

"Oh. Do you want me to take you back? Or are you staying?"

He looked at the fried rabbit leg he had not much wish for left, and had more wine. "I'd stay another day or a few. To not blame myself for leaving them too soon, you know. It's been hard on this city."

Ciri glanced towards the gaggle of women Dandelion had been sitting with earlier, unable to help a slight smile. "Sure. Stay safe, Dandelion."

She turned and left.

He looked after her, unable to say anything to stall her, to ask, to coax... And then he didn't know if he would make it better or rather worse.

"Oh gods," he breathed, and drank his wine.


	64. Chapter 64

When the sky had darkened enough to welcome the first stars, the witchers rode into Mortara. Both wished they could ride on, but had to succumb to their horses' need for rest. They were making good time as it was.

Mortara was a small, boring town, and it seemed like many small towns and villages where nothing ever happens unless there's war burning and clashing around their fences.

The witchers trotted along the nearly empty streets until they reached the tavern. They had to unsaddle and groom the horses since the only hand there was at the stables was snoring away in the corner.

There was no problem with the room - no guests at this time; and every pair of eyes went to the newly arrived men as they proceeded to settle at the furthest table for a promised hot meal.

"Yee them witchas, ainch'ee?"

A frail-looking crone waddled up to them, her cane knocking against the wooden floors. She reached with it, dexterously catching a wooden chair from the nearest table, and yanked it to her. Grunting, she settled with effort, placed her cane between her knees, leaning onto it, and looked between them with amazingly lively, sparkling eyes, too bright to be set in a face so ancient there were only wrinkles making the landscape.

"We are," Geralt confirmed, dragging his spoon around a stew he had certain doubts about.

"Tis wondrous," the old woman said and cackled. "Be ages since I saw yee kind around 'ere. Be a manticore or some filth back in tha day. Yea... Never no filth after it. The witcha be a tall fella, yea, yea. Much handsome. Forget tha name... Much old I be, yee see. Forget thangs. Old age be curse, me gran say. Tha name tho, remind me of tha city, Vizima. Yea, yea. Vizim, tha name be mayhap. Yee know 'im?"

"Vesemir," Geralt surmised, eyeballing his spoonful of stew.

"Yea, yea, tha one!" the crone cackled, stomping her cane in emphasis. "He still round? Me gran say yee live on 'till all filth 's done for. Tis true?"

"We're mortals, just like any other man," Kain said. "We live longer, but not forever."

"Yea, yea," she nodded. "Who want forever, tis too long a time. Too long. I know... He round? Or perish? Gran say yee witchas perish lots."

"He died recently," the Witcher responded, swallowing the lump in his throat, and lowered his spoon back to the bowl to scoop another fill. "In battle."

"Aw, yea, tis nasty thang," the crone shook her head in lament. "Shame. Be such strong fella."

Her eyes were bright and curious as she flicked them between the men once again after a brief mournful pause.

"Whatch'ee doin here? A manticore again? Gran say filth be returnin until tha end of time. Tis true?"

"No manticore that we know about," Geralt sighed, scooping his third spoon he never ate. "Just passing through to Velen."

"Ai, Velen's a filthy place," the crone shared enthusiastically, leaning forth onto her cane. "Much filth happen there, yea. Much witchas be sought after in Velen, yea. Tis one time..."

The witchers exchanged looks and began to eat while the crone rode her tales out. They nodded and listened to what no towner's ear was an eager receptor any longer, and the crone's eyes shone brighter reflecting the memories as she lived through them once again.

Ciri found Geralt and Kain at a table in Mortara inn. She'd focused on Kain's energy and appeared somewhere close by, luckily out of view of the townspeople.

The old woman briefly paused her story and looked up as Ciri approached the witchers, her eyes squinted as if testing whether or not Ciri was someone she knew. She concluded that she didn't and shifted her gaze to the witchers, curious.

"Had you traveled with me you'd be eating fried chicken and baked apples by now," Ciri teased softly, aware that Geralt at the very least was not entirely pleased with his meal.

Kain had almost finished his stew and cracked a knowing smirk at Ciri's remark. Geralt snorted and shoved another spoon into his mouth.

"Yee a witcha wench?" the crone asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Ciri leaned against Geralt's back, hands resting on his shoulders. She smiled at the older woman. "I'm still in training. Maybe one day, if I work diligently enough."

"Trainin?" the old woman croaked. "Witchas be men, mah gran say. I never see wenches, not in mah long time. Yee freak like them men?"

"Oh, I'm far worse," Ciri replied with a crooked smirk. "Unique, really." She darted a knowing look at Kain. "Almost."

Ciri pushed off Geralt's shoulders and took the only available seat left.

"So, witchers, are you not going to introduce me to your new friend?"

Witchers had nothing to say, but their new acquaintance didn't lose her tongue.

"I'm Nelis," she said, grinning with her gums. "Be havin a chat with them witchas. Rare sight these days, yea, yea. Yee fight monsters here, youth wench? Shame tha beauty wastin."

Ciri looked her up and down. "Did you make the best of yours?"

The crone cackled, hunching over her cane. "Yea, I be tha wench of many a dream. Long gone tha days, yea. No miss whatcha no get back, mah gran say."

"Or what you never really had," Ciri mused, momentarily caught in her own thoughts. She snapped out of it and looked to Geralt. "Staying here for the night?"

"Yes," Geralt nodded, battling his next spoonful. "Horses need their rest. I guess it's not amiss on our side, either."

"Yea, nothin good like sleep," the old Nelis said. "Not when yee old tho. More time wastin b'fore yee grave."

"Yes, you look like you're getting close," Ciri commented absentmindedly, gaze still fixed on Geralt. "Just wanted to make sure you're safe. Like you would me."

A quick baffled look bounced between the two witchers, but Nelis seemed unoffended.

"Yea, wench, I be gettin close for long. Grave no want me tho. Them people I know be in graves now, and I be livin an' livin. Life be doin its own thang, mah gran say."

"Is that why you sought these two out?" Ciri gestured to the witchers. "Trouble clings to these two like lusty women."

Geralt chocked on his stew and coughed, staring at his ward. "Ciri..."

"Ney, jus' chat for good old day," Nelis said, sneering obliviously. "Be tellin' stories. Best time be spend with them stories, mah gran say."

"Stories are lovely. I used to love them when I was a child," Ciri mused, then stood, her attention on the witchers again. "I suppose I will check in on you again tomorrow unless you somehow reach your destination before the sun sets."

"Long way to Velen, yea," the crone said. "Be risin with tha sun to ride there."

"We shall make it a night, then," Kain said, rising.

"Yea, I be goin," Nelis agreed, and propped her knotted hands on her cane forcing her frail body off the chair. Something creaked in her joints, but then she peered up at them three with her bright eyes, too vivacious for her age. "Be seein yee witchas, and yee wench. Keep tha filth away."

She started toward the door, her cane knock-knocking on the floor.

Geralt pushed the unfinished stew away. "I guess I shall make it a night," he said, and looked a question between the two.

"I'll come soon," Kain reacted.

Ciri trailed the old woman with her gaze as well, the palms of her hands tingling.

Then something she'd said resurfaced. "Velen? You told her you were going there? Why?"

The Witcher shrugged dismissively. "Said the first name in the area to just answer her question. She wanted to know if we came for a monster here."

"We said we were just coming through," Kain added.

"So your destination is still Novigrad?" She looked from one to the other, a smidgen of suspicion to her gaze.

"Of course," they both answered, and Geralt added, "No other business until we settle our own plans. You know this."

"Mhmm," Ciri hemmed. She wasn't entirely convinced, but dropped the subject. "Have you purchased a room for the night?"

"I'm going there right now," Geralt said. "No bath for now, but I guess I'll have one in Novigrad soon enough. Everything all right in there?"

Ciri shrugged. "The sorceresses are whining. Avallac'h is sulking. Zoltan is all by himself. Dandelion is entertaining the grieving ladies of Oxenfurt."

Geralt chuckled softly at the last piece of news - which wasn't new - and felt a little homesick for the times when he and Dandelion were traveling together with no worries about any Wild Hunt.

"And Yen?" he asked.

"Keeping busy," Ciri replied cryptically. He could figure out what that meant for himself. "Everyone is missing you. So you'd best hurry back."

"It only depends on our horses." He smiled, pulling her to him for a kiss on her forehead, then turned towards the stairs. "I'll start the night and hope I sleep soon." He shot Kain a gander, adding, "Don't be long," and went.

Ciri smiled crookedly at Kain. "Does he monitor your bedtime now?"

"No, it's about traveling together," he said stepping outside the tavern for some fresh air. "Both need to be equally rested." He peered at her with wily interest. "How's your bedtime while no one watches you?"

"I wouldn't know," Ciri said, slyly pressing herself against him outside of the tavern. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she looked up at his beautiful face. "Someone always seems to be watching."

He frowned, wavering between confusion and suspicions. "What does that mean? Eredin is visiting your dreams again?"

She shook her head. "No. Not for a while now. Even without the potions. I'm not worried about him coming there anymore."

She let her hands subtly roam Kain's chest, pausing every now and then to inspect the details of his armor. "I just mean it's rare that I am alone."

He didn't move and hid his uneasiness behind a small smile. "Isn't it what you wanted while on the run? You've recovered your family and friends. Should be a blessing to not be alone anymore."

"Who said I was complaining?" she asked softly, tilting her head back slightly to look at him from behind thick lashes. "Of course, it makes it harder to find moments like these."

"Moments when you're not alone yet again?" he jibed.

"Moments when you and I don't have an audience," she corrected, resting her hands on his chest.

"Do we have secrets from your family?"

"No. But there are certain things I'd like to do to you that's not in front of Geralt."

Kain didn't like the insinuation, but kept an inscrutable mien and silence, studying her.

Ciri leaned in, gently brushing her lips over his, searching for some kind of response that he was secretly as hungry for this as she was.

His chest tightened in longing and regret. "I gave you a no, remember?" he whispered. It was physically painful to say it.

"Because you think you'll hurt me. Not because you don't want me," she whispered in return.

He swallowed. "I don't want to hurt you."

She pulled back ever so slightly so she could meet his eyes. "And what if you don't? What if you make me happy? What if I make you happy? Is it not worth at least exploring? Just to see?"

Kain sighed, his eyes closing. Maybe if he didn't see hers so close... "I don't know if it's wise to try anything while the Hunt seeks to get us both," he ventured.

"Why?" she whispered, watching him. "There might not be a later."

He took a deep breath and peered at her, firmer. "There will be if we're smart and careful enough. But I don't want to keep you suspended, Ciri. I told you no to free you. Don't wait for me."

She pushed away from him, but smiled a little. "What choice do I have when you're the one I want?"

"Forgive me," he said quietly, feeling the weight of every letter. "I can't."

She tried to swallow down the bitter disappointment, the humiliation and heartache of rejection. And she found she could. For a very brief time. Long enough to get out of his sight.

"I should go," she said softly. "Take care of my father on the road. I will see you tomorrow."

A faint nod was all he could manage, and when she was gone, he leaned heavily against the wall of the tavern, his hand clutching at his chest. Tears stung the back of his eyes, but he took a few long breaths and kept them in. They washed over his aching heart like salty waves on an open wound as he walked back to their room.

Ciri stalked off to the edge of town and ran towards the treeline up ahead. Blood was rushing in her ears, her heart pounding, and the tears that fought to escape finally freed themselves once she was engulfed in the dark forest.

She should have known. She shouldn't have pushed. She could have lived with the uncertainty a little while longer.

With her back to a thick tree trunk, Ciri sank to the ground, trying to compose herself and the emotions that raged through her body. They felt stronger than usual; overwhelming. And she struggled to rein them in.

As she cried silently, a rustling of a nearby shrub caught her attention. She stilled, more out of curiosity than fear, and watched as a grey rabbit emerged a few seconds later, its nose to the ground in search of food.

The rabbit looked so sweet, so fluffy. Ciri imagined how soft its pelt would feel beneath her fingertips. How its blood would stain her pale skin. How it would shriek if she put her hands around its neck.

She stared. The rabbit's nose twitched as it watched her cautiously through the darkness. And it did indeed scream when Ciri suddenly reached out with her magic to crush the little body, like Kain had just crushed her heart.

The death was almost instant, but the pleasure of the kill remained for far longer. Until Ciri was able to brush herself off and travel back to Novigrad.

* * *

Geralt was quiet for a while, his brow furrowed; a deep line creasing the bridge of his nose as if carved in by a dagger. He was studying Kain who sat against the wall where he slid down. "How did she take it?"

"Her face went cold, she stepped away. She wouldn't show me how she took it. But I know how it felt."

"Dammit," Geralt breathed, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe you shouldn't have cut her hope while we know she's vulnerable."

Kain looked at him, pained and disbelieving. "And then what? The further in, the more painful. Her heart would not just break but shatter. And we don't know what would happen then. She can overcome this and get stronger."

"And what if it makes her more unstable? More reckless? Or suicidal? Have you thought about that?"

"Of course I have!" Kain's eyes blazed, but it was rather fear than anger fueling it, Geralt noted. "Do you remember the Bald Mountain? Things she does for people she loves? I don't want her to burn the worlds down to protect or avenge me."

"But she will, anyway!"

"If it cools down in her through this pain, maybe she won't."

Geralt scoffed, then pondered. "You might be overestimating Avallac'h's power and plans. He can't control either of you."

"You didn't see him, Geralt. He had no doubt in his eyes that he would win either way. The stronger Ciri's feelings are, the closer she gets to where he could manipulate her. He knows how and he has his powers to calculate and orchestrate things. Even if we forget about him - there's Eredin. There's the Lodge."

Geralt fell heavily back onto his bed, rubbing his forehead. "I kept telling her to live her life and keep her heart open despite the Hunt. And what, it's a pile of horseshit now when we keep pushing her to the opposite? She's had enough of broken hopes, Kain. Why adding more until she breaks? I can't lose her again. I just can't." He bolted up again, staring at his brother almost pleadingly. "I can't, do you understand?"

Kain responded with a repentant look. "Love is not always the best solution for saving someone, Geralt. It's a blade with two sharp edges."

"A shard of ice," Geralt mused quietly, staring at the ceiling until the candle stub burned out.

* * *

Yennefer dressed after waking up alone and went in search of Ciri. She could hear a small buzz of activity in the Inn but none of the faces in the dining room below had belonged to Ciri. Was she still here? Had she got up to much trouble the night before? Yennefer was suddenly worried. She closed her eyes, using her magic to probe for the distinct energy that surrounded her daughter. She expelled a sound of relief when she was convinced Ciri was upstairs in one of the rooms. Kain's room. She walked back up the stairs and knocked gently on the door once she approached it.

"Ciri?" Yennefer called softly, pushing open the door as soon as she felt she'd given enough of a warning.

"You can come in," Ciri said, darting a glance towards the opening door while lacing up her boots. She hadn't slept much and hoped it didn't show.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?"

"Like a baby," Ciri replied and felt like that wasn't too much of a lie. Infants were notoriously bad sleepers. "And you? Feeling rested?"

"I am. I pushed it a bit too hard yesterday. You sure you want to join me at the bank today? Might be a bit of a tedious task. No ice swimming will be necessary."

"Of course. We're a team, right?" Ciri smiled and stood.

"We are," Yennefer agreed, twisting around to face the door. "Mind if we skip breakfast?"

"Not at all." Ciri wasn't hungry anyway. She felt sick. "So, what's the plan?" she asked, following Yennefer outside.

Yennefer went for their room to collect the lockbox from where they'd hidden it the night before, and then the stables, instructing the stableman to set up a horse for them.

"The plan is to see if they'll be willing to let us peek at what Amos gave them, with what little of his banking tabs we managed to find. He has been dead awhile so… it might be that they know."

Ciri nodded thoughtfully. "And if they don't let us? I assume you won't take no for an answer?"

"Do you think I should?" Yennefer asked.

The stableman returned minutes later, guiding a brown and white horse, saddled and at the ready. He handed the reins over to Yennefer, the horse snorting softly, making sounds of what she knew to be fear, tugging at the cord in her hand when it saw or thought of approaching Ciri.

"Calm," Yennefer murmured as soothingly as she could, jerking on the animal's reins, her violet eyes narrowing on it until it stilled and allowed her to draw it forward. She waited a beat and then hoisted herself onto its back, waiting on Ciri to tend to her own horse.

Ciri eyed the animal with narrowed eyes. All the horses seemed wary of her these days. Even her own mare.

But not enough to deny her a ride.

"Do you ever take no for an answer?" She climbed atop Kelpie and set off down the road.

"No," Yennefer replied, letting her heels tap against the flanks of her horse, her hand sneaking into her pocket and coming out with a small round casket made of whale bone. Women liked to keep facial cream or eye shadow in such. The enchantress opened the box, dipped her finger and applied a few dabs of cream to her cheekbones and forehead. She hid the casket and pulled on her hood as they headed through the main portion of the city for the bank located in the middle. Appreciatively it wasn't as busy as it might have been had the Wild Hunt not been such a prominent threat only a week ago. Outside guards stood in their usual positions at the ready to defend their Master's borrowed treasures. Once they cast a glance her way, however, they couldn't stop staring.

Yennefer secured her reins to one of the posts outside the large double-storey building, waiting on Ciri to do the same and then headed inside. There was no one else waiting to be served and she doubted there would be for quite some time. A threat of death was likely to neutralize any business.

She dropped the hood and the dwarven scribes working behind their desks stared away, silly smiles claiming their faces. A dozen of them jumped off their seats, offering their services and asking to show her to the bank owner. She nodded at one of them, and he beamed as if blessed by a goddess.

Vivaldi was behind his desk in his office, working on his books. His eyes widened, narrowing as recognition dawned on his features.

"Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg!" he greeted, cracking a wide grin.

"Vimme Vivaldi," she returned, applying her most charming of smiles. The dwarf grinned even wider, fussing around her pulling a chair. He barely noticed Ciri, and she had to pull a chair for herself.

"Come to check on your interest-bearing accounts?" he cooed, his eyes sparkling. "I have some letters for you, my lady. Came from our Vengerberg bank, for they believed you were here."

Yennefer had one account for each of the cities she regularly visited, using it to make sure that her bases were covered when it came to the inn and other travel expenses.

Ciri was fascinated with the way every male member of the bank staff suddenly seemed to have lost their wit. They were looking at Yennefer as though she was the sun after thirty days of darkness.

She'd seen it before. It had in fact happened during another bank-visit in Gors Velen when Ciri was a child. But it continued to amaze her.

Ciri kept her mouth shut, for Yennefer seemed to know what she was doing, and Ciri did not. She could wield a sword better than most men but when it came to trickery and subterfuge, Ciri had a lot to learn.

Vimme got to his feet, vanished for a minute, and when he returned, he was holding a series of letters. She already knew what most of them contained. Updates of the state of her business in Vengerberg.

He set them down on the desk in front of her, smiling slightly, expecting her to peel through them and to offer up any instructions should he made any changes to her account.

Yennefer drew them toward her but made no move to open them. She set the lockbox down in front of her and extended one of the surviving pieces of paper that held the details for whatever Amos var Ypsis had decided to store there toward the dwarf.

Vimme read the details, gray brows as big as caterpillars knitted together lightly.

"If memory serves this account belongs to someone who is rumored to be deceased. How did you come upon it?"

"Luck," Yennefer retorted, her smile still in place, refusing too detailed an explanation. "Does it matter? Finders keepers."

Vimme grinned and laughed softly, striding away from the counter to check his ledgers perched on their usual place on a podium out of public eye. A single guard stood beside it, his gaze focused on Yennefer like a bloodhound, his sword glinting as if it had never been used in combat. Another two guards were in the far back of the bank closer to the safe that stored the treasures, their features equally hard, and their gazes slicing across the room to fix on her face.

While Yennefer waited, she busied herself with looking over the letters.

The guards' intense stares didn't escape Ciri's notice. They were watching the sorceress as if she was a threat - which she was if she wanted to be.

It didn't matter, of course. None of them would ever get close enough to Yennefer to do any harm. Ciri would see to that. Her palms were already tingling...

"Anything interesting?" Ciri asked softly in regards to Yennefer's letters. Who was even writing her? Most of her family and friends were here in Novigrad, as far as Ciri wad concerned.

"Indeed. It's an update on the profit earned at my boutique in Vengerberg." Yennefer hadn't been around to deal with her actual business for months. She handed Ciri one of the letters to read.

When Vimme approached again, he was holding the slip of paper and another document. He set them both down in front of her.

"As you know, rumors of someone's death are occasionally incorrect and as an additional measure have forced our banks to change procedures. Without this slip, you cannot collect. However, since you do have the tab needed to make the claim, with it also comes the tax and storage fees."

Yennefer had expected that.

The Vivaldi family wouldn't be in the position they were in, with banks in multiple cities, if not for the active way they protected their reserves. She also knew that if an account wasn't tended to in fifteen years or payments were backdated or missed, that they would take it upon themselves to claim whatever they were stowing in order to make up for the money owed.

"It says here… you expect me to sign for almost nine thousand crowns," Yennefer added, a nail grazing the space beneath the inked amounts. "Is that an error?"

Vimme smiled, shook his head and proceeded to break down the amount for her. Some of the total belonged to tax, other to security, another to extra insurance and another the usual daily rate. He'd even shown her the reduction given.

"What is it?" Yennefer asked, trying to come to terms with the amount in her head and the probable nothing she could be paying for.

"I couldn't tell you," Vimme replied, remorseful, his smile ever professional and friendly.

"But you're sure you have it?"

Vimme's features softened as he nodded, desperate to satisfy her.

"If I was willing to pay you a hundred crowns, would I be able to see it?" Yennefer asked in her most flirtatious tone. Vimme's eyes widened softly and then she saw him shake his head.

"I'm afraid not."

The dwarf knew her reputation of duality and it seemed to override the added charms she'd applied. Yennefer brushed it off, letting the smile return to her face although she was exasperated.

"In that case, apologies for wasting your time."

"Not at all, Lady Yennefer," Vimme said, tipping his head courteously. "Can I interest you on the state of your own account?"

She gestured for him to do so. It had been awhile since she tended to her own money affairs.

Ciri eyed the dwarf as he shuffled off again to collect new papers, her voice low. "Can you read his mind? Does he really not know what is in Var Ypsis' vault or is he lying?"

"I already did. He gave me nothing of use. Vimme is a respectable man. He and his family don't work underhandedly and if I pay what is owed on Var Ypsis's taxes – he'd show me. Problem is, I don't know what is in there and I'm not willing to throw thousands of hard-earned crowns away on unusable paper or some magical bauble. What I need is very specific."

"I assume that we are stopping by again later? After closing time?" Ciri whispered so to not attract the attention of the guards.

"Are you suggesting we become thieves, darling daughter?" Yennefer teased.

She reached for Ciri's arm and patted gently as the dwarf returned from his podium, her investment details in hand. Vimme sat down in front of her again, his eyes darting between Yennefer and the sheet of paper he'd written the necessary details on, talking her through what he'd gathered. He was good at his job. One of the main reasons their family was so successful. "Thank you," she said once Yennefer was satisfied with the information shared. "And thank you for the letters."

Vimme nodded courteously, getting to his feet as he saw Yennefer begin to stand, his chair scraping against the floor with an inherent clumsiness she knew was uncharacteristic of his shrewd nature.

"It's been lovely to see you again, Lady Yennefer," Vimme said as he circled his desk, his gaze briefly darting to Ciri before returning to Yennefer so he could take and kiss the back of her hand. "We thank you for your patronage."

Yennefer withdrew her hand, guiding Ciri toward the door, the guards' eyes on them as they walked, Vimme a few steps behind. She glanced back and he stopped as if he realized he had no need to show them the way. She smiled lightly, slid her hood on over her raven curls and headed in search of her horse so they could make their way back to the inn.

"A lot of trouble to go through to get Geralt his memory back," Ciri pointed out when they left their horses in the care of the stableman a little while later. "Do you think it will be worth it?"

"Do you?" Yennefer countered as they made their way from the stable. "Geralt and I have spoken very little about getting his memories back and I'm trying to be patient like he implored I be. However, I guess, I'm taking his questions about what he'd remembered at the temple as a sign of hope. He hasn't said anything new to you about his feelings since our arrival at the temple?"

"What if he doesn't want to remember?" Ciri asked. "What if he is just trying to stall, not give you a definite answer?"

Ciri had been upbeat about their reunion before and now her tone implied that she was anything but, was that because Geralt had, in fact, spoken to her? Yennefer's heart took a sickening dive and her vision blurred. She positioned herself in front of the door like a weak barricade, her gaze fixed on Ciri's face.

"Has he said something to you I should know?"

Ciri shook her head. "No. Nothing."

She gently brushed Yennefer's arm aside so that she could enter the inn.

Yennefer trailed her inside.

"If you're worried you'll end up hurting my feelings, Ciri, I can assure you we're already past that. I'd rather the truth."

Ciri turned to look at the sorceress over her shoulder, pausing. "I'm not lying, Yennefer. Getting Geralt to talk about his feelings is like pulling teeth."

"A sensible interpretation," Yennefer agreed, sweeping her hood off her head gently, smoothing out the curls that had been trapped. "I wonder if Zoltan has kept us a smidgen of breakfast."

"We can make our own if he hasn't. We've got time." Ciri approached the counter. "Dandelion should be back today."

"A lot of time," Yennefer agreed. The sun wasn't bound to set for hours yet. She headed for the kitchen to look at what food stuffs they had to offer. "Zoltan's had word from Dandelion?"

"No, I did. I went to see him last night while you rested." Ciri took a seat, watching the sorceress' search.

"Oh," Yennefer murmured. She found a pan, greased it and with a wave of her hand prepared the fire within the stoves pit so it could start to heat. "Did you check in on Triss as well?"

"No." It hadn't even crossed Ciri's mind, if she was honest with herself. "Yennefer," she began cautiously, "tell me the story of how you and Geralt met. For the very first time."

Yennefer had told Ciri that Triss was sick because of something she'd caught from the people she'd been helping, so it was strange that Ciri didn't look in on her to make sure she was healthy.

Was Ciri still that mad because of what Triss had done or attempted to do with Kain?

Yennefer broke four eggs into the pan and walked it over to the oven, sliding it onto the flat surface of stone she could feel had started to radiate enough warmth.

"We met for the first time in Rinde. I'd been staying there for a while, which was most certainly a heaven-sent for Geralt as Dandelion had got himself cursed and would have died had they not found me."

"Because of the djinn?" Ciri asked. She'd heard the story before as a child but wondered if they had kept certain details from her that they might be willing to share now Ciri was grown up.

Yennefer nodded and turned the pan as needed to evenly bake their eggs.

"They'd been fishing and found a container with a mage's seal, by some arguable means the container got broken and chaos ensued."

"And did you know from the first moment you saw him that you wanted him?"

"Sexually, yes. Geralt had an energy and reputation that was exhilarating – a challenge – and I, like most, didn't mind the inkling of a short-term adventure presented by such a handsome brute."

Brute? Ciri was puzzled by that. Geralt had always been so gentle.

"And he felt the same way about you?"

Using a cloth, Yennefer removed the pan from the oven, gesturing with her free hand for Ciri to get plates.

"I would assume so, later that day we coupled for the first time. And then many times thereafter."

Ciri wrinkled her nose. It was automatic and just instinct.

"And then what?" she asked, rising to fetch the plates. "You did not live together from that moment on, right?"

"No… well, yes. It had never been a conscious aim for either of us. We never even spoke of living together at any time in our relationship back then. It just naturally happened. At first, Dandelion had joined us when we left Rinde, but by the third day he'd come to the realization that he was better off on his own and wanted to head home. One brush with death was enough and the troubadour and I had been getting on each other's nerves. Dandelion scarcely even tried to talk Geralt into going with him, and by then, neither of us were inclined to part from the other. There was still so much to explore. To know. And we did that thoroughly. Days turned into weeks, both of us working respective job prepositions as they fell into our laps on the road, until eventually we ended up in Vengerberg."

Yennefer scraped the eggs off onto their plates, setting aside the pan so she could grab them each some freshly made bread cooling beneath a dishtowel.

"Where your parents once lived?" Ciri asked, settling down to start their meal. She'd already found them cups of water. "Had they passed by then?"

"After becoming a mage I never saw my parents again. Nor do I want to, even if by some marvel they happen to still be alive," Yennefer answered and scooped some egg onto her fork.

"I know how you feel." Ciri could do without seeing Emhyr ever again as well. Yet that didn't seem to be an option. "So what is the plan for tonight? How do we get inside the bank? I assume it is protected by magic?"

Yennefer had the decency to look abashed by Ciri's agreement. The subject was a sore one.

She set down her fork and swallowed the food in her mouth, magically checking if Philippa was holed up upstairs eavesdropping on them. She couldn't sense her.

"As far as I'm aware – it isn't protected by magic. Mages can be a costly affair, and we aren't the most trustworthy of individuals, a confliction with bankers who are paranoid by nature and work hard to limit outside influence that could possibly take real control of their assets. Especially the Vivaldis. However, they have magic dampeners in their safes making it impossible to cast spells inside, a bunch of locks, and as you saw, a number of soldiers to take the brunt of any attack, day or night. Our best plan of action would be to go in through the second floor. Once on the balcony, I could make sure my information is correct about their magic and you could take us the rest of the way in. The problem would be the ledger on the first floor as it's protected by at least three guards."

"We can just knock them out," Ciri said absentmindedly, cutting up her egg. "I can take care of that. Or," she added, noticing Yennefer's dubious look, "don't you have some sort of spell that can do that for us?"

"Depends on how many guards Vimme has to secure the bank at night. Could be more. We should be able to figure it out – it's finding the item in question that'll take time. Don't suppose in your travels you happened to learn anything about banking ledgers and the codes they use for their storage?"

"Can't say that I did. I robbed people, not banks," Ciri admitted, shoveling food into her mouth.

"We'll figure it out. It can't be too complex."

That was the hope.

Yennefer finished off her eggs and bread with more grace than Ciri, rising when she was done to tend to their dishes at the back of the kitchen.


	65. Chapter 65

"Ah, Dandelion..." her voice was a bit faint and groggy, but some color had returned to her cheeks. It was a matter of a day for the celebrated sorceress Triss Merigold to finally look her beautiful self again.

"Shh," the poet responded. "Don't talk. You have to eat something and sleep some more and you'll be up and about. Doctor's promises."

"Oh... I don't think I can... eat anything... right now..."

"Oh but you haven't tasted what I brought you from _The Alchemy_, dear Triss. It's their famous spicy chicken broth! You haven't eaten such heavenly delight before, I assure you. Just try! It'll get you up in a few hours! I swear on my name, and you know how seriously I take my name!"

She smiled and it was almost the smile of the lively Triss Merigold, the youngest member of the Lodge. "Thank you, Dandelion," she breathed. "It means a lot."

He covered her hand with his, smiling. "What you did means a lot to this city. Rest well. Our battles are still to be won."

Triss smiled, then sobered. "Where's Geralt? Kain? Ciri? Are they back yet?"

"I think they went back to check if everything is fine in Novigrad," the poet lied.

"Oh... I would wish to see them... Soon, I hope."

"Sooner than you think," he promised eagerly, "if you let yourself rest a little more.

"Here," Shani smiled, settling on the side of the mage's bed with the bowl of broth. "Allow me to help." They had sat her up on the pillows - she was still weak, even though her fever had broken this morning, and her diarrhea and vomiting seemed to have stopped torturing her. Fringilla had been aiding her with magic the past couple of days, but with all the work the sorceresses had to do around the city she had little to spare without collapsing herself, and the healing process had been slow-going.

Dandelion removed himself from the room to let Shani feed her in privacy. He had a lot to think of.

Shani found him in the Academy garden half an hour later, observing a restored statue among the flowerbeds.

"Is something the matter?"

He jumped a little and turned with a slightly reprimanding gaze. "Don't sneak up to people like that! Almost gave me a stroke... How is she?"

"Sleeping. Ate the whole bowl, so now we wait. I suppose the worst of it has passed and I expect no more diarrhea attacks, nor vomiting. I think she'll keep this one in."

"What makes you so sure?"

Shani chuckled softly. "I'm a medic, Dandelion. Have you seen her? She looks much better - no more grey color. If everything is good, she can return to Novigrad by tonight. Or tomorrow."

He forced a quick smile, "Good, good." And turned back to the statue.

"You're brooding," she said softly, stepping closer.

"No, I was just... pondering her condition. How ironic is it to be such a powerful mage and catch such mundane bugs from people? So unfair-"

"It's not it, Dandelion," she interrupted. "You've come back gloomy from your _Alchemy_ performance last night, and that never happens when you perform." She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezed a little. "Talk to me."

He looked at her, pained, and sighed. "I need some good old Toussaint wine. Let's go. It's my treat."

She beamed, "I haven't eaten yet."

They took the farthest table and a bottle of the famed Est Est with their meatloaf. He drank and spoke, she ate and listened. After a bit, Dandelion, too, felt his appetite stir.

"Why is it strange?" Shani asked, refilling their glasses. "Every young person has conflicts with his or her parents or friends, different views and such be the reasons."

"But it's never been like that before!" the poet argued fervently, then sobered, pondering. "Not like she's had much of time with them since we've reunited with her. She's... I knew she changed. All of us knew that. But this... this way she spoke, the way she looked at me when she said it... It's so unlike her. It frightened me, Shani. Like suddenly it was just her face and someone else behind it, you see?"

"From what you told me, she's been on the run most her life."

"Yes."

"And has witnessed war in Cintra as a child."

"Oh yes, that was most awful! Thank gods Geralt found her in the end. Until, well, he lost her again in another war..."

Shani took a swallow of wine and peered at her friend calmly. "My point is, I've been to war. I know what it's like. And you know, too. She was a child, and she probably had nightmares after, is that so?"

"Yes! Geralt told me."

"I've seen it in many people gone through war - adults, soldiers and civilians alike. It's that trauma of such experience that embeds itself into their psyche and doesn't let go. Especially children who remember traumatic events clearer. It's not a norm, of course, but it's not strange at all, I assure you."

Dandelion was uncertain whether to feel relieved or newly worried. "Can it be cured?"

"It's not a cold or pox, Dandelion. The human psyche is so mysterious that one can never be fully positive or negative on that matter. Be it any healer or medic of any degree of experience, none will tell for sure. But I have seen some positive results when said soldiers had a loving patient family to return to. Sometimes love and care, peace and patience can mend some of those wounds."

"Peace," he drawled, forking his meat. "She won't have that any time soon."

"I know it's a long shot to hope for that, but she has love in abundance from all of you."

"If only she didn't view it as a suffocating collar," he said bitterly, sending a piece of meat into his mouth, chewing.

"She says so, but it doesn't mean she feels so. Everyone who's been young knows it."

"Maybe I'm so old I've forgotten," he grumbled.

"Oh come on, famous troubadour," Shani laughed. "Don't play the victim here. You barely look thirty and you know it."

He fought it, but the smallest of smiles still seeped through his defenses.

He felt slightly better, too.

She had to be right. It was nothing, and he was overreacting on the wave of his own stresses from the battle.

"When do you plan on returning to Novigrad?" Shani asked.

"As soon as Triss feels better."

"But Fringilla can only take one at a time?"

"Yes, and it would be her friend. I shall wait and then travel by horse, perhaps. My trusty Pegasus awaits in the Academy stables."

"Think Geralt will return here first?"

"Oh I hope so. I'd rather travel back home with him."

Shani smiled. "Yes, would be nice."

* * *

"Why haven't the Lodge come out to greet us, you think?" Ciri asked an hour later as she and Yennefer sipped wine on the porch. "I would have expected Philippa to want to chide us all for doing something without discussing it with her first."

"Margarita is in Oxenfurt," Yennefer stated, closing her eyes so she could enjoy the sun on her face as she had inside the temple walls. "As for Philippa, I didn't feel her around earlier. I assume she's gone to take care of her own schemes." Yennefer gave Ciri a thoughtful look. "You're worried they've abandoned us?"

"More worried they're plotting. Something ominous," Ciri murmured, eyeing the rare passer-by on the street outside. "Do you think they will make further demands in order to help us?"

"I wouldn't put it past them," Yennefer replied honestly. "Nevertheless, I'm sure, if it comes down to negotiation, Geralt and Triss will do their utmost to curb their greed and remind them of the good we've already done to help them."

Ciri wasn't convinced. Oh, she knew Geralt would do what he could to ensure the sorceresses' help. But she didn't truly trust Triss's intentions. The redhead had made it perfectly clear she thought Ciri should give in to Emhyr and become empress. Just like the rest of the Lodge.

"If they try to pull away, we'll punish them," Ciri said, closing her eyes as she leaned back in her seat, allowing the sun to warm her face.

"We will?" Yennefer asked. In the past she'd have been amused by that notion, yet, considering what she knew and had witnessed, she wasn't so sure the Ciri was joking anymore. "How?"

Ciri smiled, her eyes still closed. "Not sure yet. But it will be memorable enough to make anyone else who considers betraying us quake in their boots."

Yennefer stared at Ciri, a pang of remorse slicing through her at the girl's declaration. All day they'd been dealing with Yennefer's mission to find the djinn's second book and for a moment she'd allowed herself to think Ciri was better. Yennefer reached for Ciri's hand and sipped at her wine. "You'd tell me if there was something else wrong, wouldn't you?"

Ciri looked at her, a small frown pinching her brow. "What do you mean?"

"It just means that if you have anything on your mind that you want to talk about. I'll listen."

"Oh." Ciri shook her head. "No. I'm fine. A little bored, maybe."

"Only a little?" Yennefer mused and closed her eyes. She raised a hand, muttered an incantation and a moment later a book appeared in her hand. She extended it to Ciri. It was an adventure book about swashbucklers seeking some mystical sea monster that she'd kept and got specifically for Ciri during her search. There wasn't a stitch of dust on it. There had been times in the past where they loved to read together, where they'd take turns reading out loud. "I bought this for you some years back. I've been meaning to give it to you so that we could read it together, but the right time never seemed to come about. You do still like to read, don't you?"

"I do enjoy books." Not that Ciri had experienced the opportunity to read any good ones for quite some time.

She set her cup of wine down and opened the book, perusing the pages with curiosity.

Yennefer was relieved to hear that her love of books hadn't changed, her heart giving a leap as Ciri proceeded to flick through the pages.

Ciri's eyes widened slightly when it was made apparent the protagonist had some rather saucy adventures already in the very first chapter.

"What's the best sex you have ever had?" Ciri asked Yennefer, pretending to be only mildly interested in the answer.

Yennefer took a lengthy sip of her wine and then stilled. To anyone else Ciri's direction to sex might have come off strange, but to Yennefer, it was another reminder that her daughter was not transmuting into some beast with darkening desires of murder, but perhaps just a young woman riddled with sexual frustrations and curiosity.

A strange thought given the state of Ciri's life the last five years.

"There are many instances of such over the years that I can recall. The one that sticks out in my mind happened on Beltane as I wasn't expecting it to be so earthshattering."

Ciri was silent a while, her jaw subtly working back and forth as she thought.

"Who with?"

"Geralt," Yennefer answered, wondering if that at all surprised Ciri.

Ciri had expected that answer. She was silent for another good while before she asked again: "Are men ever satisfied? Why do they always jump from woman to woman as if scared they are going to miss out on the next best thing?"

"Some men can be satisfied and content with one woman," Yennefer replied, thinking back on Istredd, their history and his proposal for them to lay roots. "Others are afraid of what that might mean, what they could do to unintentionally hurt their partner or how they would feel when locked in that commitment. I know the latter has never been easy for me. Although, your point is not lost, there are a number of men and women who merely like to explore other people without any desire for ties. Sometimes it's just that simple."

"You and Geralt loved each other," Ciri pointed out cautiously. "When you lived together, you loved each other. Yet you still sought the company of other people." At least, that's what Dandelion had told her. "Was that fear?"

"Of course," Yennefer supplied. "I was never used to having someone in my company for such long periods of time or the desire of wanting them in that space. It was a little overwhelming."

"I think, if I ever take a lover, I won't want them having anyone else," Ciri said after some contemplation. "I think it would upset me greatly. Does that make me strange?"

"Not at all," Yennefer answered. "I don't like when Geralt has other lovers, either. Never have. But it is the way of one's world when you're unwilling to make compromises."

Ciri looked at her. "What sort of compromises?"

"The type of compromise that comes from being able to make room in your life for someone else. For letting them take control of certain aspects, letting them change up the state of your home so it can become a duel abode and understanding that everyone's ways are different. It's not an easy thing to do when you've been alone for as long as I have."

"It doesn't sound so bad. Not when you haven't got a home." Ciri had never pictured herself as a homemaker of any sort. Perhaps that was why the thought of sharing something like that did not scare her. "Have you ever got rid of any of Geralt's women?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I haven't thought about it."

Yennefer drained her wine glass and wiped at the corners of her mouth lightly. An image of Triss popped into her head, alongside Fringilla, the lesser of the two evils.

Ciri smirked, impish. "Triss?"

"She is the thorn that continues to insert herself in our relationship. I'm surprised she hasn't tried to secure her place in his bed given that he has forgotten all about me – again."

"I don't understand how you can be friends when she is trying to take your happiness away."

"We've history. She was my friend long before Geralt became my lover."

"That makes it even worse, does it not?" Ciri asked, eyeing Yennefer curiously.

"It makes it hurt more."

"I'm sorry," Ciri said quietly. "That you're hurting."

Yennefer reached for her hand and squeezed Ciri's fingers gently.

"I'll live."

* * *

"Think you could find her if you wanted to?" Geralt asked when they slowed down to let the horses rest.

Kain peered at him, puzzled, and noted that the Witcher was deep in thought - same as when they rode out of Mortara shortly after it dawned. "Who?"

Geralt blinked, like a man waking from daydreaming. "Visenna."

Kain considered it briefly. "I suppose I might, but I'd rather not."

"Because she told you to keep away," Geralt's tone smelled of something bitter. "At least she told you as much. Doesn't seem like she wants to talk to _me_."

Kain studied him, frowning. "Why this conversation? What are you really thinking about?"

"Do you know how you survived?" The Witcher turned to look at his brother closely, reading his face.

"I don't remember much after the Crone and her pit," Kain admitted. "I barely recall seeing Ciri - felt like a dream. And then..." He trailed off, shrugged.

"No dreams or visions or anything?"

"Nothing solid. Some bits and pieces I can't be sure of. Why, you don't think I should've survived?"

"The amount of blood you lost made you a doomed man. Our only hope was your magic, but it took its time to kick in - if it's that at all. Is it? Was it your own magic that pulled you back?"

"I was taught that sometimes people have a choice whether to live or die, and it can be made while unconscious - by the soul. Do you know what I mean?"

Geralt thought of the striga; he thought of Vilgefortz, and nodded.

"I could've made the choice to live. I think I did."

"You think that would be enough? Despite the condition of your body?"

"I was brought up by druids," Kain smiled. "They believe the body responds to the soul, that everything can be healed with the right thought."

"Hmm."

Kain watched him brood for a bit, then added, "Frankly, I'd rather bet on having had some help."

"But there was just Ciri when I woke."

"Do you think mages need to physically be someplace to make a difference? I was also taught that a mother's prayer can get you from the bottom of the sea."

The Witcher shot him an astonished look. "She said that."

"Then you have your answer."

"She didn't want to talk to me, answer any questions." His mien turned sullen again.

"What did she say, exactly?"

"That I wasn't ready. What is there to be ready for?"

"Whatever she would like to tell you?" Kain reflected. "I don't believe there's none. You're her firstborn."

Geralt gave a cold laugh. "Doesn't seem like I'm anywhere near such priority level."

"I think you want to find out."

Geralt turned to him and met his studying eyes. "You know where I can do it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't have to find her for you, Geralt," Kain said with a sigh. "You can find each other wherever you are. As your dream proves."

"I had none since then."

The Cat Witcher set his hazel eyes on him. "Have you tried?"

Geralt scowled. "I'm not familiar with those druid tricks of yours. What should I do?"

Kain smiled. "No tricks. She and you are connected. A call should suffice."

He spurred Onyx into gallop. Geralt pondered for a moment, then send Roach to catch up.

* * *

"What do you know about tattoos?" Ciri asked Yennefer a while later, when the younger of the two had tired of the book and the adventures inside. "Is it possible to spell the ink away from the skin?"

"Permanently?" Yennefer asked, thinking about the answer to her question. "The only way I know is to magically burn it away, without a decent healer at hand it would scar and be quite painful. Might be easier to glamour it. Why? You have a tattoo you're looking to spell away?"

"If it was possible," Ciri said, putting the book down. "I suppose I could simply cut it away..."

"Show it to me," Yennefer said, trying to recall if she'd seen anything on her body.

Ciri hesitated. "Upstairs. I don't wish to remove my trousers out here." That could lead to all sorts of awkward situations.

She stood and headed for the front door to the inn, letting Yennefer follow her upstairs.

Once they were locked away in Geralt's old room, Ciri undressed and showed the sorceress the red and green rose adorning her inner thigh. The mark had once brought her a sense of belonging and comfort. But now Ciri felt only shame.

Yennefer leaned a little closer to inspect the rose, but she didn't touch it, sensing the disgrace as it rolled off Ciri in waves. She'd never been able to mask her emotions.

"I'll remove it. Do you want it done now?"

Ciri ran her fingertips over the rose. It had faded slightly since the night she got it and the colors were no longer as bright. But it still invoked complicated feelings. Anger, guilt, and shame.

"Yes," she said determinedly. "Erase it."

"Lie down," Yennefer instructed, gesturing to the bed. Thankfully everything she needed was already here. She walked over to her trappings chest, murmuring a few words that automatically let the lid pop open.

Ciri obeyed, lying down and letting one leg – the one carrying the tattoo – fall to the side. It felt awkward. But it was only Yennefer, she told herself. And Yennefer had never shied away from nudity. It seemed such a natural thing to the sorceress, Ciri sometimes wondered if Yennefer had ever felt shame regarding her own body. The way Ciri had.

"What do I need to do?"

"Just relax and center yourself," Yennefer said once she'd collected what she needed, and joined Ciri at the bed.

In her hands was the salve she'd made and used on Geralt when he'd been injured all those weeks ago. It wasn't much, and despite all Yennefer knew about magic, she wasn't the most proficient healer, but with the cream at hand and what she did know, it was possible that she could keep the scarring to a minimum. An aim that felt most significant.

She handed Ciri a thick stick, carved flowers on each side of the coin-sized tabs.

"Bite down when you're ready."

Ciri eyed the stick dubiously before taking it into her own hands. "How many others have had their mouth on this?"

She did not argue further anyway and bit down, inhaled, and gave Yennefer a nod of consent.

Yennefer held her palm inches above the slightly faded ink, booking it to memory, seeing it in her mind's eye and the pale unmarred flesh she once knew had been there.

"Oczyść to, co jest zaznaczone, uczyń je czystym," Yennefer chanted, repeating the phrase until Ciri's skin began to blister and bubble with painful clarity, distorting the once colourful rose.

When she was sure the magic had penetrated enough layers and the skin had softened, Yennefer used the lid of the salve to remove it in one swift scraping motion, applying a large dollop of the healing cream with the other hand to soothe it, accompanied by a fresh chant to heal the sore.

The stick between her teeth didn't stop Ciri from uttering a cry as the magic seared her skin, eyes immediately watering. She grasped the edges of the bed with both hands, tense and rigid until the attack ceased and all that was left in its wake was a throbbing burn.

Whatever concoction Yennefer rubbed on the wound tempered the worst of the pain, allowing Ciri to catch her breath. She removed the stick and threw her head back on the pillows, wiping at her damp face with her fingertips.

"Did it work?"

Yennefer waited on the cream and the magic to soak into her flesh before answering. There was a distinct red ring around where the tattoo had been and the new flesh on top looked raw, like it might be tender to the touch, but it would heal in time.

"I think so," she stated, applying another lathering of the cream, rising to her feet to find a strip of cloth with which to wrap it so it wouldn't get dirt in it. "Does it hurt much?"

"No," Ciri lied, lifting her head to get a look at the results.

The tattoo was gone. And now she wasn't sure how to feel about it. Relieved, she supposed. At least on the surface. But there was also guilt. Like she had just spat on Mistle's memory.

"Have you ever done this before?"

"No, I never had to," Yennefer replied, her voice soft as she smoothed the fabric around Ciri's thigh and knotted the end. "To be on the safe side, I don't suggest you go rolling in the swamp for the next few days. I'd hate for you develop some strange leg rot or something should it get dirty."

"I'll try not to but make no promises," Ciri answered. There was never a sure way of knowing what the following days would bring. "Thank you. For helping me."

"Always," Yennefer said, meeting her eyes to let her know the sincerity of such a promise. Yennefer—if she could help it—would never fail Ciri again. She gathered the biting stick and the salve, and returned it to the chest, moving to sit on the opposite side of the bed.

Ciri prodded the bandage curiously, stretching and testing her leg. "Hopefully it won't get in the way of tonight. We might have to do some climbing if we want to reach the balconies."

"We can wait a day if you'd rather nurse your wound," Yennefer said, stretching out on the mattress, studying Ciri.

Ciri scowled. "Of course not. We have to go tonight. Before Geralt comes back."

"Sure," she replied.

Yennefer didn't quite agree with the urgency of their mission, being that she knew for a fact that whatever Amos had stored in the bank wouldn't be going anywhere. She had the tab and Vimme hadn't mentioned anything about the time-lapse before it would become their collateral.

She petted the cover beside her.

"Rest a little before we head out. It'll speed up the healing from the salve and the magic."

Ciri agreed only after a moment's contemplation. "Alright."

It had not been a hard decision seeing as she had barely slept the night before, and with the new pain, Ciri's body practically demanded it.

She lay her head back and closed her eyes.

Yennefer closed her eyes with the pretense of sleep, opening them once Ciri's breathing had evened out, studying her relaxed features with concern. Yennefer was curious about the tattoo and the reason Ciri had been desperate to remove it, but she'd also felt that if Ciri wanted to tell her, that's exactly what she'd do. She'd made that much clear at the hot springs.

What more could she do?

* * *

The sun was on its decline when the witchers crossed into the Crookback Bog. It was still as eerily quiet, no bird chirped, no frog squashed, not even drowners made any sounds or attacked the intruders. The swamps looked devoid of life.

"It's hard to find your way around here," Geralt muttered while they trudged around picking their way from one grassy knoll to another. They led the horses behind them; Onyx didn't seem to care, but Roach pricked up her ears every other second and looked around with wide, crazy eyes, snorting and throwing her head.

"I believe it's this way," Kain pointed after a second's thought.

It was indeed that way; the corpses lay where Kain remembered. He didn't want to see it again, but his eyes couldn't look away while Geralt crouched beside the mummified remains, studying them and the ground around with his witcher sight.

"He's dried out," he murmured. "Is that what you can do?"

"It's what _she_ can do. Our powers or use thereof might differ. I've never done anything like that."

"Think you could?"

"I wouldn't want to try."

Geralt didn't respond, but wariness wafted off him as he slowly made his way around all three bodies, giving each a thorough examination. They approached the blackened rabble of the Crones' chapel, and once again Kain sensed nothing around it. Even though Roach was getting antsier by the second and nearly bolted from Geralt when he approached to mount.

When they rode north towards the villages, the Witcher was as grim as a thunderstorm cloud.

The sky took a grimmer shade, as well, by the time the witchers reached the outskirts of Downwarren.

Geralt sucked in a deep breath and cast a gander at Kain. The latter nodded.

"I smell it, too."

Their horses did, as well, and - mostly due to Roach's inability to step over her raging sense of self-preservation for the sake of duty she had never accepted as her own - the duo left their mounts to graze at the foot of the hill the village sat on.

The smell intensified as they climbed the path up the hill; Geralt slowly drew his sword, attempting to be quiet. Though no sounds reached their ears, which reminded both of the Crones' clearing in the marshes.

The village appeared abandoned, but only at first glance - and to anyone who wasn't a witcher. If you would still and spend another moment or three on taking a better look, the sight of broken fences and crashed flowerbeds would jump at you, and in a moment, your eyes would catch a movement - on the borders of your vision. And then you'd pick up growling, and the movement would become the most prominent of views.

Growling lowly, groups of ghouls detached from what looked like heaps of dirty rags to creep toward the brothers, led by three bigger and bristling alghouls that appeared from seemingly thin air and in truth from either behind or inside of several huts with their doors open.

The witchers backed away, winning time to assess the situation while Kain drew out his Cat sword. There were seven ghouls with three bigger and smarter leaders that began to surround the men. They attacked from three sides in perfect unison, followed by the enraged ghouls eager for more blood. The wave of Igni fire cooled down a few of them, but the alghouls didn't seem to be taken aback much. They rolled away like dogs thrown by a bear, and recouped, lunging at the witchers aiming to separate them.

Geralt and Kain tried to keep together, slashing at the beasts, but the alghouls kept evading and getting away with minor cuts. Two ghouls fell twitching into the raspberry bushes, shaking the leaves and knocking berries off. The shaking stopped, but the loss of kin seemed to anger the remaining ones more. They rushed, snarling and screeching, venomous spit flying, and two more were flung away, one of them fell in different places upon meeting Geralt's blade. Kain threw his free hand forth, sending three beasts before him flying back into the huts and tool racks, Geralt behind him used Igni more and more. The closest hut caught fire on the rim of its hay roof, the orange tongues licked higher and wider eagerly like a hungry cat would spilt cream. Kain slashed at an alghoul, then flicked his hand ripping the burning piece off the roof and landing it on the monster's back. The alghoul howled, backing away trying to shake it off. But the burning hay stuck to its bristling spikes and refused to fall off. While it rolled around the ruined flowerbeds and patches of radish and lettuce, the other two lunged themselves at the offenders. Flanked by three remaining ghouls, they broke the witchers apart. They rolled, picked themselves up, and stabbed at the attacking ghouls, using fire and Igni, rolling and dodging and stabbing and slashing. The beasts hissed and screeched, another ghoul howled and rolled away burning with witcher fire. The two alghouls began to fall back and let the two remaining ghouls continue to exercise their frenzy until the witchers dispatched them. That was when the pair of alghouls felt they were done, and retreated as fast as they could.

The witchers swept their gazes around, panting. The sun was gone and the sky was beginning to darken rapidly. The carcasses of the burnt ghouls still emitted stinky smoke that coiled in the faint breeze.

"There was-" Geralt began when something big knocked him down past Kain; they rolled across the carrots and into the pea-vines, the Witcher's sword glistened dimly in the grass where it fell. Kain rushed to them, his hand shooting forth to knock the burnt alghoul off Geralt with a mighty magic push and set it on fire. It screeched rolling around, shedding specks of burnt flesh, but the flames ate into the beast like a starving swarm of killer ants. Soon enough the monster stilled, smoldering.

Kain helped Geralt up and handed him his lost sword. The Witcher was sporting deep gashes on his arms and legs from the claws. He was bleeding pretty badly.

"Dammit," he grunted as Kain crouched in front of him with his hands over the wounds to heal. "Should've remembered that bastard."

"You did," Kain said, focusing. "Just a bit late."

"It'd kill me. Unacceptable."

"It happens. It lurked waiting for its moment."

"Alghouls," Geralt growled and spat. "Hate them." He hissed, then the stinging subsided as the gashes skinned over gradually. Kain squatted down to wait out his dizziness. Geralt squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you. It would've taken me two or three days."

They checked the perimeter as thoroughly as they could; Geralt took his Cat potion and the thickening darkness didn't stave off his assessment. They peeked into the huts, noted deep scratches on the wood of the outside of most doors, bloodstains on the floors and lots of bits and pieces, bloodied flesh and bones. Some bodies were almost whole, some were eaten beyond recognition.

"Ealdorman," the Witcher said, turning the corpse's bloodied head to show something to Kain. "This ear cut off. No animals or birds got here yet and ghouls go for the gut first."

"Seems you're right," Kain nodded. "What of it? You knew him?"

"From the days I did the Crones a service. Any children?"

"Could be one, I think, but too little left to judge. No shoes, so..."

"Most children here were barefoot. While the late summer warmth lasts."

Kain went around the village one more time, lighting the torches, then approached the Wolf Witcher who was studying a sprawled eviscerated body.

"Three alghouls," Geralt mused, rising from his crouch. "It doesn't make sense for them to linger here unless there were survivors. They don't like to devour the dead."

"No cellars in the huts," Kain said. "The barn?"

"No, but I would look in the Ealdorman's house."

There was indeed a cellar door in the floor of the said house, and it was destroyed into a mess of splinters with three pairs of strong claws. The hole was jagged and narrow, and Geralt barely squeezed through.

Three men were hiding in the dark behind a mess of broken wooden shelves, broken glass and clay from the cracked jars and bottles crackled beneath Geralt's boots. When the three survivors saw a man instead of the foul beasts, all three wept in relief. The witchers helped them out - it took a while to convince them that the passage was safe. They shook and barely stood upright with fright and weakness. They settled in one of the huts with no blood inside and closed the door to calm the three men. The fireplace was lit, two bottles of moonshine of the five they found were emptied before one of them agreed to tell what happened.

"Been there for many days it feels, m'lords," he said, his voice shaking. "Them monsters came at dusk in the storm, two first, then two more. Didn't do nothin first, just stared from downhill, m'lords. Like waitin for somethin. We were afeared much, locked our babes and wives in, took 'em forks and shovels, lit 'em fires and yelled at 'em beasts to scare 'em off, y'know. They didn't leave till dawn, no matter the storm. Other demons howled horribly in them woods, stealin people. Even them wolves turn crazed, stole a babe from under them wenches' noses, bit few of them tryin to fight with forks and torches. Then we thought it a curse or somethin and sent our Ealdorman and two more to 'em Ladies to ask for mercy, but the shrine was gone! We didn't believe, ran half a village there to see, m'lords, but tis true! The shrine is gone! Our Ladies left us! Much afeared we was, m'lords, we was! Ealdorman say we don' leave, but some did. To them other places north, y'know. Ealdorman was much angry but had none to do 'bout it, y'know. One of 'em wenches took the babes from small to little and our only horse cart and fled away while we were decidin what to do. Them other wenches helped her do in quiet. Men were much angry, ragin, want to run after, but t'was much late. Ealdorman say we ought to go see the blind crone Thecla. Them Ladies keep her close, y'know. We all say it good idea, but then t'was dark again and 'em beasts return. Few them people ran, most die here. We stand no chance, m'lords. No chance with them claws and teeth. Ealdorman fell one of first, and we run to barn, but 'em monsters cut us off. We dash for Ealdorman's cellar, aye, the only way. They find us later down there, but couldn' break all 'em shelves. They left jus' now before you come."

"Yeah, they crawled out when they sensed us," Geralt confirmed.

"We owe yee thanks, m'lords," the other one uttered, passing the nearly empty bottle to his mate. "Yee save us. But more can come."

"We'll take you to another village," Kain said. "Lurtch or Lindevale?"

"My wench went to Lindevale to 'er mother," the third said after a hearty swallow. "I go there see if she lives."

"I got no one," the first one said. "I go with 'em."

"Me brother lie dead out there," the second said, his voice cracking. "I go Lindevale. Got nowhere and no soul else."

"All right," said Geralt. "We shall probably wait for morning."

"I'll get the horses," Kain said, reaching for the door. The three broken men shivered and drank. The night promised to be a long one.


	66. Chapter 66

For the next few hours and until it was pitch black outside, Yennefer hadn't moved, content to quietly lie beside Ciri, lighting the candles to chase away the shadows with a mere flick of her wrist when it was time. She'd never been a fan of the dark.

"Ciri?" Yennefer murmured gently, trying to rouse her.

Ciri stirred, blinked to get the sleep out of her eyes, and slowly sat up. "Is it time?" Judging by the darkness outside, it seemed to be.

"It's dark," Yennefer added to make it clearer. "How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?"

If Yennefer had succeeded with her healing, the pain should have diminished and become no more than a hum. By morning, should Ciri not further agitate the wound, it would hopefully be healed entirely.

"It's fine," Ciri said after taking a few seconds to decide.

She pushed herself out of the bed and went in search of her trousers.

"Are we going by foot or horse?"

"Foot," Yennefer said and stretched to limber up and work the kinks of stress from her neck and shoulders. "Can you take us straight to the balcony?"

Yennefer could do it herself, but her portals would act as a bright beacon in the night before they even got there and alert the guards.

"I should be able to," Ciri said, pulling on her trousers and boots. "But it might be best to approach the bank on foot, just so we can make sure no one is actually watching."

Yennefer nodded her agreement, pulling on her cloak, as black as the rest of her attire, confident that it would easily drag her into the shadows around the city.

"Might be easier if you check to see that there aren't any soldiers we might have missed around the bank once we get there."

"I will," Ciri assured.

They made their way through Novigrad as stealthily as possible, avoiding the most crowded streets and keeping their heads down whenever they did run into someone.

Twenty minutes later, they were across the street from Vivaldi Bank. It looked dark and closed from the outside, but as Yennefer and Ciri already knew, the place was guarded. Indoors as well as out.

"Two at the front doors as expected," Ciri murmured when she returned to Yennefer after a brief scouting-round. "No one else outside. One would have to be a skilled climber to reach the balconies and I assume they have some sort of alarm system in place in case of intruders."

"Possibly," Yennefer responded, her gaze fixed on the double-storey building ahead. Gratefully, the guards were easier to spot as some were carrying torches to see where they were going and making themselves visible. She also assumed that there were others out there who weren't.

"I won't know about the magic until I get closer."

Yennefer extended a hand toward Ciri for her to take so she could do her jump.

A second later, they were stood on the balcony furthest from the main entrance. They both stilled, waiting, listening for any signs the guards may have caught sight of Ciri's green flare.

When nothing happened, Ciri relaxed ever so slightly and stood back to watch the double doors leading to a study inside. She tried to feel for magic but wasn't sure if what she did feel came from the establishment itself or Yennefer beside her.

"What do you see?"

There was minimal light inside, echoing off the wall as one of the guards inside passed the hall. Yennefer pressed a hand to the surface of the door and let her magic extend beyond the barrier to touch the inside, to caress along the walls.

"Nothing," Yennefer said after a moment's deliberation. "It seems Vimme has resorted to using more magic blocks."

In the past, she knew it hadn't been that way, that it was as she'd said, but she assumed that with the threat of the Wild Hunt and people needing money to get as far away from Novigrad or together as a bribe, the dwarven banker was taking extra precaution. That didn't mean she couldn't work it from the outside.

She focused on the door, on the lock bridged between the interior and the outside, and heard it snap open. Yennefer waited a beat to make sure they hadn't alerted the guard inside, and then carefully opened it so they could squeeze in.

Ciri let Yennefer go first, and carefully closed the door behind them. It wouldn't do for someone on the street to notice it open and alert the authorities.

The study was richly decorated, befitting of the master of a bank. Probably where Vivaldi did most of his private business. But the ledger they needed to consult was downstairs. At least, it had been during their daytime visit.

"Are you certain he doesn't lock the ledger away come night?" Ciri whispered. "Does he trust his guards with such delicate information?"

"I'm not sure of anything when it comes to banking," Yennefer answered in a whisper. She moved toward the desk, letting her hands slide along the wood so she could attempt to open the doors or find some secret panel locked away in the wood for the really special treasures. "I suppose we should have spent more than an hour actually observing Vimme and his actions." However, it was too late for that. They were already inside and they could only hunt now. She found a set of what felt like keys, quills, and parchments, but she could see nothing in the dark.

"See if the guard has moved."

Ciri moved quietly to the door leading out to the second-floor hallway. She opened it cautiously and peered outside. There was a dim light coming from downstairs but no one seemed to currently be too close to Ciri and Yennefer's location.

"I'm just sayin', my cousin works in the city dungeons and he sees far more action in a week than we do in an entire year."

Ciri leaned forward, close to almost touching the banister in front of her. From where she was stood, she could see down onto the entrance hall of the bank, as well as the two guards who were positioned inside to watch it.

Both wore identical armor and their helmets concealed whether they were fair or dark. But their voices carried easily.

"And you think that's a good thing?" the one who had not spoken before uttered, staring at his companion through the semi-darkness.

The first one shrugged. "No one robs banks anymore. Not in the big cities. Too risky. Makes our job bloody borin'. And obsolete."

"I'd hardly call us obsolete," the second guard huffed, clearly taking offence at that statement. "Stop that!" he continued when the other used his sword to lean on like a cane. "You'll scuff the floors! And that'll come out of our earnings!"

Ciri pushed away from the two bickering and headed back to Yennefer.

"Still downstairs. Ignorant and preoccupied with other matters."

"Keep a close eye on the hallway. I'll try and find a candle."

Yennefer had attempted her magic, but the blocks were fully set in place, and, unless she knew where to find them, it was useless to try and fight against it. They varied in sizes and could be disguised as anything. The best she could hope for was candles and something with which to light them. Vimme, thankfully, did have to attend to night-work at times and the candles weren't too hard to find. She remembered them from the first time he'd led her into his office many years ago to help her open an account, and nothing had changed about where they were. Only the opulent candleholder they were attached to was useless. She snatched one of the candles free and looked for the matches to light it.

She hadn't needed to light anything in this manner in near on a decade.

She glanced in Ciri's direction, returned to the desk and crouched, lighting the candle behind the desk. A second later there was a flame and she was able to dig through the drawers, being careful not to mess it up too much or throw anything around. The ledger wasn't there.

"It must be on the podium. Or in the safe."

"Both downstairs," Ciri noted, moving away from the doorway.

She took a look at Yennefer, swept an errant lock of hair off the sorceress' shoulder, and experimentally cupped her breasts to make them more prominent. "Can you take out the guards with your... charms?"

Yennefer double-checked the desk, blew out the light, and, once it had cooled, slipped it into her coat pocket along with the matches. She was going to need it again. She moved to join Ciri at the door.

"I could, but it doesn't prevent them from seeing my face and I've no magic I can use in here to prevent them from remembering. I was hoping to avoid force. A distraction would suffice."

"Avoid force?" Ciri pondered. That hadn't been her thinking. She shot a glance towards the perch overlooking the first floor. "I suppose I can go make some ruckus in one of the other rooms. But you will have to be quick."

Yennefer frowned slightly, jotting the lack of understanding with regard to avoidance of the fact that Ciri was a lot like Geralt. They both expected to fight.

"What if they corner you in a room?" Not that she couldn't magically bounce out of it. "Let's take a minute to think about this clearly. Can you use your magic here?"

Ciri looked back into the study, and a moment later, she appeared there.

"Seems like," she whispered, returning to Yennefer's side again.

"Great," Yennefer said. The fact that one of them was able to move was a real help. "Then you'll distract the guards with a bit of noise and in the process, if you're able, lock them in the room. Or at least some of them. I know you've been practicing different branches of your magic with Avallac'h and Kain. Do you think you'd be able to do that? Lock a door? Or apply a barrier while I try and look into the ledger?"

"Of course I can," Ciri surmised. "Remain in the shadows until the coast is clear."

Truthfully, Ciri had no idea how to magically barricade a door. But she did know how keys worked.

She made her way down the hall until she found what appeared to be a storage room, filled with archived scrolls and pieces of parchment. Removing the key from the door inside, she held it in her palm and ran for the nearest cupboard, crashing into it with her shoulder taking the brunt, forcing it over onto its side with a thundering crack.

Grinning with mischief and mirth, the girl waited and listened for the suddenly alert voices coming from downstairs.

Yennefer waited as ordered, cringing when she heard the loud bang from somewhere below and the rush of curses as the guards downstairs started shouting amongst themselves.

"Did you hear that?! Where did that come from?"

"I'm sure everyone in Novigrad heard that!"

There was a distant rustling and the distinct sound of boots as the guards rushed to check out the noise. Yennefer waited a few minutes, making sure no one had decided to charge upstairs, and then slowly headed for the stairs, picking up the pace when she didn't and wasn't able to see anyone. Unlike the upper floor, these held more light, candles placed in strategic corners to make it easier for the guards to see who'd come in at the doors or windows they deemed vulnerable.

She cursed the magic blocks, her cloak gathered about her legs so she wouldn't trip as she descended the stairs at a near crab crawl.

She could still see the guards, hear their snarls of frustration as they tried to push their way into the room, threatening to cut down anyone or anything inside.

Ciri waited, her grin spreading as the guards pounded on the door until it rattled in its frame.

Then she jumped, leaving the room behind to fall in line next to Yennefer downstairs. "Need to hurry," she urged. "They won't stay up there forever."

Yennefer gasped softly at Ciri's sudden appearance, cursing herself inwardly. She'd have killed for a warning.

The enchantress surged forward, straightening as she appeared at the podium, preparing to remove the ledger from the surface so she could look at it on the floor. A quick feel around and inspection told her that the book had been secured. No wonder Vimme felt comfortable leaving it there and why the guards had stuck close to its side instead of moving it elsewhere.

"I need light," she demanded, gesturing to one of the candles already burning. "Quickly."

Ciri obliged the sorceress, grasping the nearest candelabra and holding it close to illuminate the podium. While Yennefer's attention was on the book, Ciri's remained on their surroundings. She could still hear the two guards struggling upstairs, but had no idea if there were more of them lurking nearby. In the dark, the bank seemed an ominous place indeed.

"Have they secured it with magic?"

"Chains and a lock," Yennefer answered once she'd returned with the light. She knew Ciri could take her sword to it and that they could pry it off, but putting it back would be the hard part and the integrity of the book was also at risk. She hopefully didn't need to search it that long for the answers. The code itself seemed pretty straightforward. Some she'd even recognized from past tabs she'd received from the back for her goods.

She slid a hand into her cloak for the one containing Amos's details, comparing them to every bout of numbers as she went along the lists until eventually coming upon his mention on page twelve.

There was another series of numbers beside that on the tab with only a small measure of detail.

Letters.

She made a point of memorizing the numbers.

"We need to find the room they store the treasures in."

She snapped the book shut gently, being careful not to disrupt the chain that ran through it, dropping to the ground when she heard the approach of the returning guards. There wasn't time for her to get anywhere she wouldn't be seen.

"How do you think the bookcase fell over?"

"Why did we even have to clean it up?"

"Think it was the wind?"

"Who fuckin' cares! You know Master Vimme would have a seizure if we left it in a mess!"

"Could you tell if anything was stolen?"

At the sound of the approaching guards, Ciri grasped Yennefer's arm and teleported. They appeared in a dark and damp hallway a second later.

"Basement," Ciri whispered, trying to not bounce her voice off the stone walls. "I assumed there was one. Got lucky."

The candle had gone out during the jump, and Ciri focused her powers to light it again. It was nowhere near as quick or graceful as Yennefer or Kain would have managed, but she got the job done.

"None of the rooms upstairs seemed to hold much of value. Means it's either on the main floor or down here."

"Didn't know you could teleport into places unseen before," Yennefer stated in a grateful whisper. She hadn't been ready for that confrontation. She only hoped that was no trace of them having been close to the book or that the guards wouldn't notice the candleholder that was missing.

Yennefer removed the candle from her pocket, using the one Ciri had lit to light her own, carrying it across the expanse of the modified basement. Along the walls were rows of box-shaped drawers with numbers on them. She owned one herself, so she knew what it looked like.

She recalled the code from the book, scanning them desperately until eventually, she found the one she was looking for in the middle of the shelf. This time there was no lock, and getting inside was a simple as opening the drawer. They had a lot of confidence in their security.

Inside the drawer was a letter.

She removed it and blew out her candle, returning to Ciri's side to use the light she'd been holding so she could attempt to read it. There was nothing about the book. Just a name and an address.

Maybe it would make more sense once she'd paid a visit to the other banks?

"This is starting to look like one of Geralt's search missions."

"That bad, eh?" Ciri asked, looking over Yennefer's shoulder.

"About to get worse," a male voice rang out from the darkness.

Ciri saw the outline of a guard standing by the bottom of the stairs, the light from the main floor illuminating his silhouette as well as the crossbow he had trained on Yennefer.

"Lads, they're down here!" he called to his comrades in arms, triggering the sound of approaching footsteps above them.

Ciri was in the progress of pulling her sword, but the guard clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"Wouldn't do that, lass, lest you want your mistress dead." He gestured to Yennefer with his crossbow anew, yet kept his gaze on the girl with the sword. "Drop it."

Ciri did, her eyes wide and guileless. All for show, of course. Her insides were vibrating with excitement and the sensation of power rising to the surface of her skin.

"Go home," Yennefer said, barely looking at Ciri. There was nothing either of them could do and if any one of them had the power to talk themselves out of what would happen next – it was Yennefer.

"Don't you ploughin' move!" the guard snarled, swinging his crossbow in Ciri's direction, letting it teeter back in Yennefer's direction as if he expected she'd attack.

"Go now," Yennefer repeated with determination, a demand she expected the girl to argue against but hoped she wouldn't.

"Did you not hear me, Bitch?! I said don't move!"

The noise from upstairs was beginning to increase and the guards he'd summoned were on their way. It wouldn't be long.

Ciri paid Yennefer's commands no heed. In fact, for a moment she forgot about Yennefer altogether.

As Ciri heard footsteps rush down the stairs, she dropped the lit candle, briefly engulfing them all in darkness. Her opposite hand had gone to the dagger in her belt and when the other two guards descended into the cellar with swords and torches, they found said dagger protruding from their colleague's forehead.

Ciri smiled to herself at the look of astonishment on the men's features. Then she was on them, quick as a flash of lightning, her hands clutched to either man's face. She pushed into them all the rage she could part with, all of the fire that burned so brightly inside her, and they cried out as their skin scorched and blistered beneath her touch.

Ciri screamed, too, but for an entirely different reason: pure euphoria.

Swords and torches fell to the floor but the men still fought, swinging their arms around wildly. One would have caught Ciri in the temple had she not been so quick to pirouette out of the way, just as Geralt had taught her back at Kaer Morhen.

A trill of laughter escaped her as the howling men swung for her again, blindly searching for their assailant now their eyelids appeared to have melted shut. It was a game. A game that allowed Ciri to show off her graceful evasion maneuvers.

In the back of her mind, her thoughts went to Yennefer again and Ciri imagined the sorceress to be impressed. Proud. She hoped so.

But the game came to a quick conclusion once the burns spread, first rendering the guards unable to move, and later, live.

Silence ensued.

Yennefer couldn't see much of what was going on once Ciri attacked as the men's torches had gone out, instead, she could hear the commotion, could hear gasps of shock and pain and wasn't aware it was over until Ciri started talking, the distinct smell of burning flesh heavy in the air. What haunted Yennefer most was the sounds of joy amongst the chaos she'd heard coming from Ciri. An outburst similar to the flash of her fight against some of the Wild Hunts men at the bog. The sorceress was riddled with disgust and everything that she'd never felt toward her daughter before, but, more importantly, concern. Something was wrong, something was really wrong.

Ciri eyed the smoking corpses on the floor with mild curiosity, then moved to retrieve her weapons.

"Should we hide them?"

"Yes," Yennefer answered, snatching up one of the torches, using the matches she'd pocketed to light it so she could see the damage. There were guards outside. If they left them in the bank – let them stink up the place – Vimme would know something had happened, and once he realized what was missing from his storage, he would come looking for her first. If he was smart. And he was. She had to think and yet she was having trouble pushing past what she'd heard and could now see.

But eventually, she did. She had to.

"Can you take them out to the ocean?"

"Sure," Ciri replied, slipping her sword back into its scabbard before approaching the two human charcoals.

She paused, looking back over her shoulder at Yennefer. "But perhaps I should take you back to the inn first." She didn't like the thought of leaving Yennefer defenseless and without her magic. No matter how brief.

"No," Yennefer countered, struggling to wrap her head around the carnage and the smell — _that smell_. "We've to make a couple of changes to the scene. Take them, I'll take care of the things here."

"Alright," Ciri complied, though a little reluctantly. She would have to make the journey at least twice if she was to transport the third guard as well. She only had two hands.

Ciri had blinked away, and for the few minutes she was gone Yennefer could allow herself a second to wonder what she'd witnessed – what had happened…

She'd never been more terrified.

She lit her candle, if only to get a better look at the guard with the crossbow, her eyes fixated on the dagger buried in his skull.

He hadn't had a chance.

She removed it from his head with some force and then pocketed the weapon, returning to the drawers she'd overlooked before, opening them all randomly, taking anything inside to either toss it on the floor or gather it together in her cloak so she could be rid of it later all across Novigrad. She wanted to make it seem as if the fact that the three guards were gone was no more than a coincidence tied to some opportunistic thievery. She'd even gone so far as to remove her own gold stored there.

When Ciri returned a few minutes later, she was sopping wet. She'd disposed of the guards somewhere far off the coast of Novigrad. If they were not picked apart by sirens or drowners, it would be a while before anyone found them.

She squeezed the excess water from her hair. Her powers, though grand, had not spared her from the ocean. As far as Ciri knew, levitating was not one of her talents.

"Yennefer?" she whispered, squinting through the darkness for any sign of the sorceress.

The mage had been in the middle of stacking some stuff into her cloak, along with the letters. The rest decorated the floor.

"I'm here," she responded, her candle having burned down a bit, struggling to shed real light amongst the shadows that came from her movement. "Are you able to make another leap?"

She knew that Ciri could get tired from what she did (like any witch or witcher) but she wasn't aware of the extent of her teleportation powers and how often she could do it before her body decided it was enough.

"If you can—take this," Yennefer instructed, clutching the cloak together as if it were some handy bag, holding it out toward her to take. It was heavy. "And come back for me."

Ciri took the cloak, surprised by its hefty weight. She slung it over her shoulder, groaning softly. "I'll take you as well unless there's a reason to linger?"

She held her free hand out to Yennefer.

There was no cause to linger. Yennefer had set the stage and she was sure that the conclusion would be enough to drive the banker in the projected direction.

"I didn't want to overwhelm you," Yennefer retorted and reached out to take her hand.

"I'll be alright. We're not going far."

An utterance that was proven a moment later when the two arrived in Geralt's room.

Ciri relinquished her hold on Yennefer's makeshift sack and immediately started to peel off her wet clothes.

"Will you light a fire?" she asked the sorceress, teeth chattering from the cold that had set in.

Yennefer said nothing else in response, directing that power that had been silenced at the bank directly at the fireplace. Flames sprang to life with such ferocity that she did a double-take. Yennefer hadn't lost control of her casting since her days of training as a sorceress and even then she'd never allowed it to escape her.

"Sorry," she muttered dimming the flames so that the wood stacked there could take control of the blaze. "Where did you take them? How far out?"

Ciri had blinked and staggered back in surprise at the vicious roar of the fire. She allowed herself a moment to make certain her eyebrows had not been singed off, then continued undressing.

"Far. Where the sirens rule and only the maddest of men will dare travel."

She could travel that far back and forth and not even look remotely tired? Yennefer studied her in the light provided by the fireplace, her gaze shifting to the jewels she'd stolen. They'd have to get rid of it. She could even give it to some random beggar. There were people out there in need. The likelihood that they'd get themselves killed though was great.

The only positive to come from their mission was the fact that they got a letter – a clue – to where the next portion of the book might be.

She'd have to check the following banks herself.

"I wonder how Geralt and Kain are faring on the road back to Novigrad."

Ciri shrugged and settled by the fire to warm up.

Despite the reassurance she had given Kain yesterday she would check on them, now she was reluctant. "I don't know. Do you think I should go there?"

"To check on them?" Yennefer asked, thinking it over. What more could go wrong tonight? She was being negative. "They wanted alone time, might be best we wait until morning for them to arrive."

Yennefer slipped the letter safely under her mattress, collected together the ends of the cloak filled with belongings that Ciri had carried back, and summoned a portal.

"I'll be back in a bit."

She didn't wait on Ciri's response, slipping through the golden door to somewhere safely outside of Novigrad close to the water's edge where she could dispose of the treasures one at a time.

Ciri watched Yennefer disappear, then set her gaze on the roaring fire before her, staring intently at the flames. She was lost in thought for a long time before suddenly getting back on her feet, darting for Yen's bed and slipping her hand under the mattress where she located Amos' letter.

She read it through twice before opening the chest Yennefer kept some of her belongings in, pulling out ink, parchment, and a feathered quill.

The floor was highly uncomfortable as Ciri lay down on her stomach, but she hardly noticed. She was too preoccupied attempting to make her own handwriting seem as similar to the one on Amos' letter as possible.

When she felt she had mastered it – as close as she would get anyway – she began to write on a separate sheet of paper, meticulously copying every word from the letter until they looked close to identical.

Excitement made her heart pound rapidly as Ciri let the ink dry and stepped back into her clothes. They were still damp, but that didn't matter either. Ciri had a mission to complete. And she would have to hurry.

After tidying up and tucking the genuine letter back where she had found it, with the falsified copy secured in her hand, Ciri disappeared.

* * *

Yennefer used her magic to pitch each of the items as far into the water as she could. There were jewels, bits of gold (none of her own), and other treasures she didn't care enough about to venture their importance. They all belonged to the sea now and the water had been greedy, absorbing each gift with a splash as they hit the surface and then sunk to the depth below.

She couldn't see how, or where, but she knew it was deep, that most these places were fished and rarely tended to by swimmers. The likelihood that it would be found outright was slim.

She did this for a while, mulling over what had happened at the bank. Before leaving the Temple she had wanted to ride to Novigrad with Ciri for the sake of possibly seeing her kill some necessary monster – to see the effects of what she thought might be controlling her – but what might have happened? Yennefer had never felt more out of place and out of sorts.

She scrubbed her hands against her face, feeling uncharacteristic tears of fear prick at the corners of her eyes, those of which she hadn't experienced since she'd lost Ciri the first time.

Yennefer pressed her hand to the item around her neck, the piece of jewelry that temporarily linked her to Geralt and he'd used to call her to the Bog when they'd first gotten into trouble. She concentrated on contacting him, on using it to sneak into his head.

Would it even work?

'Geralt? Geralt, can you hear me?'

* * *

Geralt straightened up, leaning on his shovel, and heaved a weary sigh, looking up at the crescent moon gleaming through the tree canopies.

"What?" Kain asked, continuing to dig. They were in the forest that framed the village; Griffin sat a bit further, busy cleaning his feathers.

"Yennefer," Geralt said. "Wonder how she's doing with Ciri right now."

"Hopefully not setting out on a searching party, since we won't show up for another day."

"Ciri will probably come if they get worried."

"Maybe they have other things to do - Oxenfurt and its recovery."

"Hmm."

Kain dug for another few minutes while Geralt kept standing still, his brow furrowed as he watched the grave deepen.

"Why did they come here?" he muttered to himself.

"Ghouls follow death," Kain said. He stopped, too, and took a deeper breath, flexing his arms holding the shovel's shaft between his knees. "And alghouls prefer a live prey."

"Three in one pack is unusual."

"It is, but stranger things happen. Beasts can behave in funny ways." Kain resumed digging.

"The strange attacks happened after we dealt with the Crones," Geralt mused. "Which was more than a week ago. The cart with that woman and children escaped after the shrine's fall and before the ghouls came. These three survivors sat in the basement for a week at least while the alghouls were working to get to them."

"Lucky they had things to eat in that cellar - they'd be dead otherwise. They're barely alive and sane as it is, thin as twigs."

Geralt didn't respond but turned to look at Kain dig. The latter continued for a few beats, then straightened up staring back at the Witcher.

"The smell," he said. "It should be worse in these warm days. The bodies look fresh."

"Moreover," Geralt added, "they're barely eaten. What took them so long?"

"Hell," Kain winced, stabbing the shovel into the soil and jogging back to the village with Geralt in tow.

* * *

Yennefer hadn't expected Geralt to be able to hear her, but she'd tried, for another fifteen minutes until the trembling of her body had disrupted her train of thought and made her stiffen.

She'd begun to cry and she wasn't even sure why.

Was it a matter of fear? Of what could be happening to Ciri? Or because in some strange way she'd once again become the cause of her daughter's destruction?

She screamed, magic spilling from her, carving through the trees and across the water with a gust of wind so strong she was sure it had uprooted one or two and set anything not fastened down sailing. When she calmed she'd found herself being able to breathe again. Her chest was not as tight.

Yennefer swiped at the tears on her cheek, making sure she was composed before recalling her portal, picking up her cloak off of the ground before returning to the inn.

The fireplace was still lit when she appeared in the bedroom—in need of another log—which she'd added with a motion of her hand and the bath abandoned. Fear coursed through her and her eyes scanned the room, almost overshooting the bed, half-expecting Ciri to have fled or disappeared.

Only she was in bed, nicely tucked in, a soft smile on her features as if she hadn't a care in the world.

Had Ciri not realized the damage she'd done tonight?

Yennefer silently walked over to her and sat down on the edge of the mattress beside her, a hand coming to rest on Ciri's back, trying to measure her energy and the magic surrounding her.

It had settled.

She lowered the hand, giving Ciri's hip a gentle pat as if to say 'good girl', and then made her way out of the room to head downstairs in search of a little wine.

Downstairs were Zoltan and Fringilla; the latter looked tired and barely able to hold a fork while the dwarf poured her a cup of mead.

"Ah, Yennefer," he greeted. "Where are ye two these days? Ciri all right?"

"She is. She's sleeping," Yennefer answered, forcing herself to smile slightly. She didn't want to alert Zoltan to her concerns with Fringilla around or without consulting with Geralt first. "As you should be," she continued, steering the conversation the woman's way. "How are things in Oxenfurt?"

"Triss is getting better," Fringilla uttered lazily, nodded a thanks to Zoltan for the mead. "The poet decided to stay while she's there. Margarita went to get her - maybe tomorrow. The repairs almost finished. All the fallen buried."

"That's good news. On both accounts," Yennefer answered, going in search of the wine. She didn't expect the dwarf to serve her even if he didn't appear to have any problem with it. "Will they be riding back? Accompanying Dandelion?"

"Rita will bring Triss by portal," Fringilla responded. "The poet said he'd like to wait for Geralt to ride back with him. Where is Geralt, by the way?"

"Got some business elsewhere," Zoltan put in from behind the bar counter. "Some contract and whatnot."

"While we're still wary of possible attacks," Fringilla added with a sardonic expression and cut off a piece of potato.

"He had to make sure the bastards didn't hide someplace," the dwarf said, shooting a glance at Yennefer.

"Of course," Vigo reacted with the same ironic twitch of her lips, eyeballing Yennefer while chewing. "What happened to you? You look awful, and I don't recall seeing you in Oxenfurt. Or have you been checking woods, as well?"

"I was there until about four days ago. Until I was summoned away by business," Yennefer lied fluidly. "Were we missed?"

"Triss has been ill for three days now, and it's been all on me and Rita, so you do your calculations." Fringilla gave her a brief cold glance and drank.

Yennefer carried her wine over to the table, smiling coolly.

"Were you expecting me to be at her side – holding her hand – nursing my dear friend back to health?"

"I was expecting you to help with repairs in her stead. Just as you demanded from Philippa and Rita so vehemently. Rita was there. You, however, whisked away for five days with your witcher."

Zoltan made a face and stole to the kitchen, leaving the two alone.

"Is that assumption made out of mere perspective or jealousy?" Yennefer asked, sipping at her wine.

Fringilla snorted a laugh. "Please, Yennefer, the only jealous one seems to be you, however peculiar it might appear. The way you look at Triss and I would be rather funny if it wasn't so sad." She granted the raven-haired mage a mock look of sympathy. "Careful, dear, you're losing your touch every now and then with how little control you have over your face that betrays your inner turmoils."

"I advise you watch what keys you choose to turn tonight," Yennefer said, amusement lacking on her features, her lips set in a thin line. She might not have much control over her emotions as of late, but she had even less control of her magic, feeling it boiling, making her eyes flash in a purplish warning.

She'd considered tossing the wine in her face, choosing instead to sip it, to glance in the direction she'd seen Zoltan run off too as soon as Geralt had been drawn into the conversation.

"I'll take the rest of my wine upstairs," Yennefer announced, raising her glass as she began for the stairs. "It's good to hear that Triss is on the mend, give her my best should I not see her myself."

"Unless you run off for another sweet getaway, you shall see her and Rita tomorrow." Fringilla smirked and stabbed another potato with her fork.

Yennefer paid no mind to Fringilla's parting remark as she made her way back into the bedroom. Thankfully Ciri was still there – sound asleep. She set her glass down, stripped her clothes, and then shifted to the other side so she could lay down beside her. Yennefer wasn't tired, not even a little bit, and for a long time, she lay staring at the walls, replaying what she'd heard in the bank over and over until eventually, darkness had sneakily overcome her.

* * *

"Still cold inside," Kain concluded, crouched beside the fallen Ealdorman. "So cold and hard that ghouls left most of the innards intact."

"Same here," Geralt confirmed from beside another dead villager. "Barely gnawed on the surface where the frost melted away from the day's sun. They didn't kill these people. Nor did the alghouls. They came after and lingered to get to the three in the cellar."

"The hounds do look similar when they move fast," Kain said, approaching his brother who stood over the corpse he had examined. "People knew no difference."

"Which means the Riders didn't come - merely set the hounds on the village. What for? To pin the crime on Ciri?"

"And avenge the lost informers. The hounds are still around, Geralt. They weren't with the dead Knights."

"We better be quick about it, then," Geralt nodded. "Can't leave them alone for long."

They found a cart in the barn and rolled all the bodies to the forest where Kain deposited them carefully in the grave. They each used their fire, then shoveled the soil over the ashes and bones. They left a huge boulder as a marker and returned to the village. Griffin refused to leave and followed them around like a dog.

They checked on the three survivors: they were asleep, snoring loudly.

"They won't wake up," Geralt estimated, blocking the door from the outside to keep them safe. "Come on."

He picked a Cat potion in his saddlebag, drained it, and winced, holding his hands to his head while the effect kicked in.

They did a thorough sweep of the village and its surrounding area, pinpointing the tracks they had missed when they arrived. They were barely possible to find unless one knew what to look for. The grooves in the soil from the claws, still slightly frosted in their depth, rare patches of cold still clinging to the ground where the hounds released their frosted spikes to impale running people. Geralt cursed himself for not seeing any of it sooner, and Kain's argument on them not knowing what they were looking for did nothing to relieve his conscience. He was a witcher and these people he had failed.

"We might not find them at all," Kain reasoned as they followed the trail into the forest with the excited griffin in tow. "They could've been called back, they could've run off to attack others. They have five days on us."

"We have to try. There were four of them. Every village around is in danger."

"Has been for five days. Whatever could've happened already happened."

Geralt set his jaw and kept following the faded tracks. They were tangled and chaotic and led them in loops and circles; they trudged a few miles around the forest, then headed in the direction of the bog. The sky was twinkling with stars like diamonds spilt over dark velvet, and they didn't notice how it began to lighten. It was still a while before the nights began to get longer.

The witchers would be trudging through the bogs for days to come if not for Griffin. He pricked up his ears, stilling like a bloodhound catching a whiff of a fox, then ran through the marshes, picking his way on grassy knolls lightly as a cat would. The witchers gave chase, less gracefully and cursing on every wrong step. A few drowners and a hag stalled their progress and drained more strength from their aching muscles. When they caught up, they froze next to Griffin, staring.

The hounds were in a clearing, all four of them. They lay on their sides, barely stirring, their heavy breathing huffs had frozen the puddles of water next to their muzzles and rushed out in white smoke clouds.

"What the hell," Geralt muttered, his hand flexing around the sword handle. He didn't recall when he drew it.

"They look dying," Kain stated.

Geralt looked flabbergasted. "What killed them?"

Kain squinted, studying the panting creatures. "Summer," he concluded. "They draw their power from frost. They've been stuck in here for more than five days. The sun and warmth killed them slowly."

Geralt thought it over, then swung his sword, striding for the hounds, and finished the job, hacking off each head with one direct blow.

Griffin croaked softly, tail jerking.

They returned long after dawn, the birds were chirping, the sun was about to rise, and the witchers were about to collapse. Kain and Griffin huddled together at the barn, Geralt picked the company of the horses inside. They had just a couple of hours to rest a little.

Neither could sleep.


	67. Chapter 67

The candles had burned down and the sun was streaming in through the window by the time Yennefer's eyes had opened again. She hadn't even realized she'd nodded off. She swept a hand across her eyes, wiping the sleep from them, and stretched, expecting to find the space beside her unattended. Ciri was still there, only her back was to her now and she could no longer see her face.

Strange.

Ciri rarely bothered sleeping in, rising as soon as the sun did so she could partake in her next adventure.

Yennefer eased out from beneath the sheets, gathered together her clothes, and without her usual consideration for a bath, she stepped into them. Another of her bits of routine that had changed almost overnight. Only she made sure to reapply her make-up, to do her hair, and when Ciri was still not awake, to check and make sure she was breathing.

She was.

Last night was pretty exhausting. Could it be she'd worn herself down that much trying to get rid of the bodies and killing them, to begin with?

All possible.

Yennefer left her to wake up on her own and quietly made her way out of the bedroom to check for signs of Geralt or Kain having returned. There was none. Their horses weren't in the stables, either, and Kain's room was still empty.

She closed eyes, reaching out with her magic once more to communicate with Geralt, to try and sense how far from Novigrad he might be. Like the day before, Geralt either hadn't heard her or she hadn't reached him.

With a sigh Yennefer headed inside, intending to help herself to breakfast, grateful that Fringilla wasn't downstairs (or any of the other sorceresses) and that the dining hall was abandoned. At least one portion of it.

"...a dump! The whole damn city is a bloody buggers muddle!"

The door slammed shut behind Zoltan who stopped raging for an instant of seeing Yennefer. As soon as recognition kicked in the next second, he proceeded for the bar counter, angry as a woken ogre.

"Can ye believe it!" he huffed. "They closed the damn market square! Even more, they closin the ploughin city! We're opening and we can't buy shit! Those stupid guards, I tell ye! They know nothin of how to run a city so it doesn't choke itself."

Yennefer turned to regard Zoltan with genuine curiosity as he stormed into the inn behind her, his face red from more than the mead he usually consumed.

"What's wrong with the guards?"

"They closed the city!" he recited, not particularly happy to have to repeat himself. "That fat-pouch Vivaldi been robbed or somethin, and now all Novigrad is rearin up like a damn spooked mare. If Dandelion decides to come back today, he ain't gettin in. Nor is Geralt."

"That's no good—have you caught any wind of who they might suspect it might be? What are the rumours running around?"

"There's plenty rumors but none mean business," he scoffed. "From damn elves to them stupid drowners. Most think it's some rampant mage of magnificent power because no other can beat their ploughin' locks and blocks."

"Unfortunate timing," Yennefer commented, studying the dwarf for a moment, narrowing her eyes to probe at his head, satisfied that he wouldn't have the defence to block her action. "Inconvenient with the Wild Hunt breathing down our necks."

"Aye, that version also sounded from a few," he nodded. "But it's all sodding nonsense for as long as the city gets blocked. No tellin when they find their thieves, but we lose on food supplies. It's a disaster now that we need to open."

Yennefer hadn't had to deal with that much apart from hiding from Radovid. So, she wasn't too sure what she could say. His head also was saying pretty much the same as his mouth. "Maybe it's for the best. This place wasn't exactly packed. Is there anything for breakfast?"

"That's the issue! We got two sodding eggs and a few potatoes!" he exclaimed. "Our supplier Valtis Briggo had to deliver today! And now he ain't gonna enter the city and I ain't-" His scowl loosened somewhat, welcoming an idea. He stared at Yennefer. "Ciri around?"

"She's sleeping," Yennefer said, considering to help him with a portal. She'd have to save the thought. "You'd like her to help you with your supplier?"

"That'd be the thought," he nodded, rubbing his hands, a hint of a smile making its appearance. "The way she blinks from place to place suits perfectly. I'll wait for her to wake, naturally-"

They turned when the door opened letting in three men: two wore armor of the temple guards, another resembled a civilian.

"Carsel!" Zoltan greeted, smiling. "I'd ask what brings ye before the sky darkens but I guess it's the same darn reason the city's closed."

"That is correct," the man nodded, gesturing for the guards to stay as he approached to shake the dwarf's hand. "This case is a total mess."

Zoltan chortled. "Of course Vivaldi makes a mess whenever a bee stings his arse. What happened there really to close the city?"

Carsel threw an uncertain look in Yennefer's direction, then sighed. "I'm not at liberty to discuss it..." His yearning to do so was, however, evident.

"Argh, come on, lad, it's me!" Zoltan slapped a hand to the man's back and coaxed him to the bar counter. "Every soul will have a dozen stories by noon, and I got no one to chat with before the night, anyhow. Ye know it. I'm too busy for this nonsense. Do tell. How bad is it?"

"It's bad, my friend, bad," Carsel confided in a hushed tone. "It's..." He trailed off, then looked guilty. "I'm sorry, let's do business first. I'm ordered to bring two of your tenants to questioning. A routine, nothing to worry about."

"Two of my-" Zoltan scowled. "Who might that be?"

"Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg and her ward." Carsel looked at the mage, bowing his head in a curt greeting. "They've been at Vivaldi's the other day."

Zoltan glanced between the man and the mage. "I see. But what is it for? Obviously they didn't do it."

"It's certainly to be determined." He peered at Yennefer, and couldn't hide a gleam of adoration in his eye. "I'm Carsel Vidus of the secret service. Would you be so kind, Lady Yennefer, as to come with us? It wouldn't take more than an hour. Just a routine, but plenty important for the investigation." He turned to the dwarf, "Fetch the young lady for me, if you please. I wouldn't like to send the guards to your rooms."

"Ah, sure, sure," Zoltan nodded, casting a quick gander at Yennefer as he headed for the stairs. "I shall be a moment."

He stopped at the door and sighed a long one, rubbing his neck.

"Oh hell..." he muttered. "Like there's not enough problems already."

He knocked.

"Ciri? Ye decent?"

Ciri was already awake and half-dressed when she heard the knock on the door.

"Partially," she called out, shaking out her shirt to put it on. "Am I late for breakfast?"

"No... err... There's..." He winced. "Something happened in the city. Vivaldi's bank been robbed or somethin. The secret service wants to ask ye some questions about yer visit yesterday. Yennefer and ye, lassie."

Ciri stilled for a moment, then rushed to put the rest of her clothing on. She opened the door while trying to tame her hair in a braid, eyeing Zoltan with mild curiosity. "Are we in trouble?"

He gave her an uncertain look, his bushy eyebrow rasing. "There a reason to think so?"

"I don't know," she whispered, frowning as she finished with her hair. "I did not even know there was a secret service. Are you certain this is about a bank robbery? They're not... they're not part of the witch hunt, are they?"

"No, no witch hunt as it was - not unless that fat ass Dijkstra forgets his promises, which I wouldn't put past him." Zoltan rubbed his neck again, studying her with both repentance and doubt. "Ye sure there's nothin there with that bank and ye two? If there's somethin, ye better tell me, lassie."

"We visited there yesterday morning. Yennefer had an errand." Ciri shrugged and threw a glance at the stairs. "I suppose that is why they want to see us?"

She squeezed Zoltan's shoulder and headed downstairs, moving to join Yennefer at her side.

"Argh, sod those darn banks and their crap," Zoltan muttered, following the girl down.

"Ah, young lady!" the secret service man beamed. "Carsel Vidus, secret service," he bowed. "Do not worry yourselves, it's a mere routine check with all clients from the day before. We shan't take more than an hour. Would you, please, come with the respectable guards here, ladies? I appreciate the cooperation greatly."

"Are the guards necessary?" Zoltan folded his arms. "Truly, Carsel. It reeks of an arrest."

"Of course not! It's a formal necessity. I apologize for it."

"Worry not, Zoltan," Yennefer interjected with her usual practiced air, moving to reach for Ciri's shoulder, encouraging her to fall in line with the guard so they could ready to leave. "We don't mind going in for questioning, it is after all a logical formality in such endeavors. The longer we argue what it looks like, the more time we waste preventing them from finding the offenders they're looking for."

Ciri said nothing, only offered Carsel Vidus and the guards a gentle smile, then followed them outside.

Carsel bowed, smiling, expressing gratitude for their agreeing, then followed Zoltan to the bar where the dwarf had poured him a shot of almond liquor.

"So, how bad is it?" he asked, pushing the shot over the counter.

Carsel downed it, grunted in pleasure, and told him.

"Ye gods and little fishes..." Zoltan whispered, paling slightly. And poured the man and himself another shot.

* * *

Outside and once they'd cleared the designated safety around the inn, it was as if Novigrad had disintegrated into a worrisome disorder. Yennefer had hardly seen the same from the people days after the Wild Hunt had made their demands and so many had been forced to leave.

Were they beginning to come back because of the time it was taking them to return, or did they think life could just go back to normal and that there wasn't a war brewing on the horizon?

Looks of contempt and curiosity met them as they followed behind one of the guards, another picking up the rear to sandwich them between the two men. Neither of the guards had spoken to either woman, stoic and determined to complete the mission. But there were more of them, a lot more of the guards than she'd have thought, ushering people to stay indoors, forcing them to stay confined.

She thought to the letter she had tucked under her mattress. She hadn't gotten rid of it yet. She'd meant to read it properly and then store it somewhere safe – but she hadn't gotten around to it. What if they started searching her room? Would they go that far? No, she couldn't let the thought manifest or her inner turmoil reflect on her face or even an inkling of concern she might have.

"They couldn't have come with horses?" Yennefer asked, casting a look at Ciri to regard her agreement or where her mind space might be.

"Would be harder for them to parade us around," Ciri muttered in reply before raising her voice. "Where are you taking us exactly?"

"To the headquarters," one of the guards said. "Please, be quiet and follow us."

"Since when does walking entail neither of us being allowed to talk? That sounds less like a helpful questioning from one of Vimme's longstanding patrons or the court of law and more like we're under arrest. Is that the case?"

"We're not at liberty to discuss this, m'lady," the guard said. "It's the secret service business. Our job is to accompany you to questioning."

"If that is truly the case, like any other free member of society, you wouldn't be trying to silence our voices in response to a harmless question."

"This is a serious matter," the other one grumbled. "We're following our orders."

They led the women through the closed market square that looked oddly abandoned with all its stands empty. Temple guards and secret service agents were everywhere. A small group stood with Vimme Vivaldi who was explaining something and flailing his arms. He looked ruffled and agitated. He didn't notice the procession as it passed up the road and past his bank.

Ciri didn't speak, but she couldn't help the smallest of smiles. Despite the severity of the situation, she was amused.

_If they only knew._

The guards continued to lead them through the city of Novigrad and it eventually became clear they were headed for the Temple Isle. Once more, visions of The Eternal Fire priests and hunters flashed through Ciri's mind and she lost some of the amusement felt earlier.

The whole city seemed to be in an uproar, but unlike when The Hunt had visited, people weren't hiding inside their houses and huts. They were gathered outside in clusters, gossip and theories being exchanged with glee and excitement.

Ciri supposed it had been a long time since Vivaldi's Bank had last been broken into. It was worth talking about.

Yennefer reached for Ciri's hand as if to seek comfort, using their physical connection to project a thought into her head.

'They're going to ask a lot of questions. We need to get our story straight to make sure we're both on the same level of thinking.'

Ciri dared a look at Yennefer when their hands interlocked, shooting her a small reassuring smile before focusing on the path ahead again. She assumed the sorceress was worried Ciri would give something incriminating away. That they might get caught.

But Yennefer needn't worry. Ciri would never let them hurt her.

Ciri hadn't responded to her thought message, aggravating her somewhat until Yennefer remembered the reason for it: Ciri's bracelets.

With everything they were presently dealing with she'd forgotten all about it. As well as canceling out the Wild Hunt, they'd keep her from being able to send such a clear communication, too.

Yennefer released her hand so she could sway in closer, hugging Ciri against her side. She lowered her voice to a whisper, her lips still reflecting a smile.

"After dealing with the bank yesterday, we headed straight to _Rosemary and Thyme_, spent some time reading on the porch to take our mind off of things, and then went to be spending the remainder of our night in our room. Don't deviate or add anything that's not necessary. Keep answers short. Did anyone else see you at the inn last night besides me? Did you talk to Zoltan? Fringilla?"

Ciri subtly shook her head. There had only been Yennefer.

"Don't worry. They have nothing on us."

"I know we've covered our bases, it's that we have to make sure our stories are cohesive."

"Proceed here, ladies," the guard was pointing to a neat building in the corner of the Electors' Square. A group of guards stood at the entrance chatting.

Ciri nodded in acknowledgment and moved where the guard had gestured, assuming Yennefer would be hot on her heels. She watched the group of guards curiously, flashed a small smile once one of them caught her eye, and proceeded inside.

The headquarters appeared to be the opposite of the streets buzzing with action and angst. The corridors were mainly empty and quiet. Eventually, the women were brought to a waiting room and separated - the sorceress was asked to proceed to another room while Ciri was asked to wait in a comfortable chair.

Yennefer exchanged a look with Ciri as they were split. She was still worried about her because of the day before and the aloofness she'd shown to what she'd done. Ciri's head wasn't in the right place.

When the enchantress entered the room, there were two people waiting for her. One she recognized, the other she didn't much care for. She could only imagine the crowns Vimme had thrown around to achieve this particular council.

Inside she was met by Dijkstra and a man she didn't know. He was middle-aged and quite a contrasting figure to Sigismund: where Sigi was huge and broad, the man looked even gaunter than he was.

"Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg, I presume?" The man smiled, it was a smile that promised nothing cozy.

"That is her," Dijkstra confirmed unnecessarily, standing at the window, his hands behind his back.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," the gaunt man sneered at Yennefer, ignoring the spy. "It's been brought to my attention you've been to Vivaldi bank the other day. Could you specify the time of day and the reasons for your visit?"

"The reason for my visit is a personal one of no consequence to any outsiders, unless somehow wanting to see to the state of my accounts had become a crime?" Yennefer asked, unshaken by the man's stature or what could be seen as intimidating airs. "However, with regard to the time, I believe Ciri and I stumbled into the bank around noon. I spoke to Vimme Vivaldi directly, I'm sure he can verify the exact time."

"That he could, of course," the man nodded, the smile never slipping off his thin lips. "But that is not of concern here, for we're talking with _you_, Lady Yennefer."

He leaned back in his high-back chair, stapling his long fingers before his chest, eyeballing her with avid interest.

"Is the state of your accounts the only thing you were concerned about the day of your visit and - as follows - the only subject of your conversation with Master Vivaldi?"

"No, it wasn't the only thing we spoke of, I had other questions about banking. As I'm sure Master Vivaldi would have shared with you, if of any importance at all," Yennefer stated.

"I would be much obliged if you refrain from telling me what anyone else we don't have in this room would say," the man asked politely, smiling on, ignoring a loud snort coming from Sigi who was observing in ironic silence. "This matter is solely between you and me at this very moment. So I ask you, Lady Yennefer: what questions did you have for Master Vivaldi? Do tell."

"Am I being arrested?" Yennefer countered, ignoring both the snort and the man's attempt to push on a subject she was inclined to share in present company.

"Oh, not at all!" the man said, highly amused by the question. "Unless you attempt to mislead the investigation or refuse to answer our questions. I'm sure you have no such intent, correct? So let us get it over with. I assure you any personal matter you're shy to mention stays in this room and never leaves it. Please, do tell us what you have asked Master Vivaldi?"

Yennefer smiled back, expelling a soft sound of disbelief that echoed Dijkstra's snort. "Then I am within my right to keep my personal business to myself, am I not?" Yennefer challenged coolly, her tight smile still in place. "I'm sure that if it were to be of interest to your investigation, then Master Vivaldi would have told you the cause for my visit and there would be no need for me to repeat it. Am I correct or is it that you're trying to attest his story?"

"It should be of no concern to you what we're trying t-"

"Argh, sod it, Yennefer!" flared Dijkstra. "Just tell the man your business or wear shackles. I never took you for a stupid woman, don't disappoint me. Answer the damn questions."

"Please," added the man, still smiling with serene pleasantry. "You're making it longer than necessary."

Yennefer's gaze averted to Dijkstra at his outburst, her smile dimmed only marginally before returning to the inquisitor. She wasn't afraid of either of them or the idea of being shackled.

"I've already told you the reason for my visit to the bank. I had questions relating to my account and a question of peculiar merit for Master Vivaldi about another banking matter. As I said, I'm sure he can clarify that fact. I make your gracious apology if that isn't sufficient enough answer to do your job and solve Vivaldi's mystery, but it is all I am willing to give for the time until you formally arrest me."

"Then we'll sodding formally arrest you," Dijkstra uttered, scowling like he'd bit into something sour.

The gaunt man kept smiling as if Sigi wasn't there. "The only thing you need to tell us is what other questions besides the account matter you had for the master banker," he explained as if to a particularly dimwitted child. "And upon doing so, you may go. Please, Lady Yennefer, none of us needs any complications for this already difficult matter. We all are going to have a very long day. Let us go through this quick, if you please."

"I already told you the question was of a personal matter, one you could easily source without my assistance as I have nothing to hide from Master Vivaldi," Yennefer argued.

Was what she had to say that important that the entire premise of their search relied on her alone? They clearly suspected her but had no concrete proof. If they did, they wouldn't have walked her here with the possibility of making an escape and they'd have used a lot of force.

They did neither.

"I'm afraid there is not much else I can do for you, lords. However, I do wish you the best with your investigation, I know how tiresome research can be. If there's nothing else—"

Yennefer glanced within the direction of the door.

The gaunt man clucked his tongue, a ghost of lament stroked through his face, briefly coloring his smile sad.

"Unfortunately, it's not that simple due to your resistance, my lady," he said, leaning forward to his desk and reaching for the seal. He pressed it shortly on an ink-soaked sponge and stapled the paper lying before him. He folded it dexterously and cleared his throat.

The door opened, and an agent walked in to take the paper from him.

"Effective immediately," the gaunt man said.

"Yes, m'lord."

The agent removed himself, and the man turned back to Yennefer with the same polite smile. "I'm very sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to linger in our... waiting chambers. They're not very comfortable, but there is nothing more I can do until this matter gets resolved. Unless you change your mind and voice that personal matter you mentioned." He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"That's all right," Dijkstra interrupted. "She made her choice. Put this on and come with me, Yennefer." He held out a pair of dimeritium shackles to her. "Your hands."

The gaunt man didn't look as remorseful as he was pretending to be and nor was she going to surrender to it. With Dijkstra knowing what Yennefer might have found about the Djinn – came Philippa to worry about, too – and the rest of the Lodge, and, as of this moment, aside from Ciri and her close few, she didn't trust anyone else.

She strode over to Dijkstra and raised her arms to allow him to put the shackles on her.

"I assume Ciri won't be getting the same treatment?"

Sigi gave her a grim look of someone deeply done with the situation. "Let's go," he said, leading her out of the room.

A guard accompanied them to what seemed like a basement dungeon with cells and two guards. Dijkstra let her into one of the cells - the only other occupied one held a sleeping drunk snoring loudly.

"You just have to be a bone in everyone's throat, don't you," he sneered gruesomely, his voice hushed. "That's all right by me. But if I find out it's your shit, nothing saves your perky arse. Not your sodding witcher, nor your freaky brat. Now," he peered at her with his penetrating azure eyes, "tell me why the fuck you wrecked them all? What kind of buggery did you aim to put me in when I barely cleaned out your elven mess in Oxenfurt? You testing my last damn nerve, huh?!"

Despite the look on Dijkstra's face and the fact that he was breathing on her, she scarcely flinched. She'd dealt with more powerful men. "This might not come as a surprise to you, Dijkstra, given what I said in your man's office, but I have no idea what you're trying to accuse me of. I haven't done anything."

"He's not exactly my man," Sigi drawled. "Don't play coy with me, I know your kind too well. Did you find what you were looking for? I won't believe you pulled this whole charade for a couple of ploughing trinkets."

"I love trinkets," Yennefer countered. "Especially the sparkly kind. You think our magic ingredients are paid for out of the skies or through generosity? It's a business. You know that I've been practising for years. Many years. It doesn't mean that I've gone and done whatever you think I have with Vivaldi. The fact that I went to visit him is a coincidence. How many other patrons did he have that day? I wonder are you visiting them with the same amount of bitter distaste in your eyes."

Dijkstra studied her with disbelief and contempt. "What about Giancardi? Checking your accounts, as well? Or sniffing out security settings?"

"Giancardi?" Yennefer repeated, laughing softly as if she was sure she'd hadn't heard him correctly. "What does that have to do with anything? Is this about some outstanding loan payment I didn't make or that I've been to slow with my feeds? You're going to have to clear things up for me. I haven't been to Gors Velen in months."

"Stop playing with me, witch," Sigi hissed. "I meant their bank here in Novigrad, you damn well know it."

"Of all the things I want to do to you at present, Dijkstra, playing is not one of them," Yennefer retorted, the amusement fading from her face. She sensed a cold trickle of dread inside her spine. She made an effort to keep her face in check and met Sigi's stare straight-on despite feeling sick with foreboding. "I haven't done anything. I've hardly even been in Novigrad. And there's a reason for that. If you don't recall, we're still anticipating a battle. What could I possibly gain from dragging attention away from that?"

"Hell if I know!" he boomed. "You were supposed to enlighten me on that. Don't make me involve Phil - we both know you two can't work well together without blowing half the land away. What did you do at Giancardi's bank and why?"

"There's nothing to work on," Yennefer said. "If you decide to involve Philippa, what will come from it, will be exactly what you predict. And for what? Because you're that desperate to blame me or because you're hoping to win points with her? Do you even have cause aside from the fact that I was there to do my banking yesterday?"

Dijkstra looked bored, but his bulging cheeks betrayed he was about to lose his shaky patience. "So you confirm you went to Giancardi's?"

"No," Yennefer countered. He was beginning to confuse her. Why did he keep bringing that one up? What did that mean, exactly? She felt scared to find out, it was a guttural feeling of some inexorable calamity. "Are you trying to say that there were more banks robbed than just Vivaldi's?"

He rolled his eyes. "Have you been drinking some potions heavy on your head or is it the old age that makes you slow? Yes, all four banks were broken into last night. And I didn't tell you they were robbed. Is this a confession, then?"

Yennefer huffed a sigh that was supposed to express utter annoyance but was meant, in fact, to hide her misgiving. "No, it's far from a confession. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, Dijkstra. I saw Vimme Vivaldi outside of the bank looking like his head was minutes from exploding off his shoulders the way he was talking to someone. And since he isn't dead, it's very easy to see you don't have me here, picking my brains because you believe I murdered him. Let's also not forget you mentioned my greed a couple times. My love of trinkets. Two plus two," Yennefer didn't pause long enough in her point for him to interject. "If it is as you say and four banks were robbed last night, just how do you think I was able to conjure up that many portals in one night, take on that many guards, and not die? Again, what would I gain from that?"

"Take out guards," he repeated, his face sourer than before. "Didn't tell you that, either. Look, if you're up to some stupid monkey business and gallows - be my fucking guest. I'll make an example of you no one will ever forget. But what I really don't need is a war with your sodding witcher and your youth. So much so I'd rather aid you. Just give me a hand here. What the hell did you need from the ploughing banks? And how the fuck did you trick the security?"

"It's an assumption," Yennefer added with an air of weary irritation. "How else would the thieves get the goods out?" He clearly had his mind up that she'd done it. If there weren't shackles biting into her wrists she'd feel complimented he thought her that accomplished, but instead she felt sick with dismay before she could fathom who might have done it.

Maybe it was all a mad coincidence.

"I've told you a million times I haven't done anything. All I did was check on my accounts with Vimme. That was it. I couldn't possibly be in four different places at once."

"Hardly it happened at once, and you've a perfect accomplice in that little Cintran freak of yours. Pray they don't find anything in your chambers, or you're done."

He was about to leave her, then turned.

"Where's your witcher?"

Yennefer's hands balled into fists, smothering the bitterness and need she had to warn him against calling Ciri a freak. Only he'd turned his back on her and was headed out. She let the anger go, knowing that there was little she could do, and pushing him would only serve to further anger Dijkstra.

"Travelling back from the Temple of Melitele. He went to visit Nenneke to make sure she was safe."

Dijkstra scowled. "And that Cat one? They together?"

"They are," she answered, not caring to elaborate. "What about me? Still unconvinced and set to make an example of me?"

"That man you were talking to is the head of secret service," Sigi said. "Had you stated your damn personal matter, you'd walk. But you had to be stubborn and now you'll sit here until they carry out your room's search. You called it on yourself. Sit tight, you'll be visited soon. Depending on their findings, there will be consequences."

Yennefer's insides twisted, the magic wanting to burst free. It had been collared, but it hadn't been silenced to the full extent. She could feel the pain in her fingertips.

"We help you get rid of Radovid and your first plan of action within the administration is to burn another sorceress at the stake before their bodies have even cooled! You're no better than he was."

He towered over her with his nearly seven-feet-tall bulk, his eyes blazing. "You should've thought about it before wreaking havoc in my city! I cannot hide this big a shitpile, Yennefer! You don't even try to help or motivate my aid. I need your damn witcher to sniff around this mess and find the one to get the burn, do you understand? Do you understand how big this is? Banks have security no ordinary mages can breach. It means the criminal should be a big deal - as the crime is. Those guards had families, and we didn't even find bodies aside from a few specks on the floors. People will want this mess to be resolved publicly. And so it has to be. Unless you give me the thief, I shall go with what I have."

"How can you be sure the guards didn't do it? That a fight broke out between them? You think the people of this city are above stealing while they're starving?"

The idea of bringing Geralt into this filled her with as much dread as the idea of them finding out that Ciri had killed those people at Vivaldi's. The Witcher knew nothing of her endeavors to find the book. She wanted to keep it that way until the very last minute.

"What you have is shit all, fucking use your head."

Dijkstra winced as if smelling something foul. "Let us not debate the guards - they're innocent victims of a vicious crime here. Unless you have anything useful to add, I shall see you later. If it's me to see you, that is."

He headed out of the cage, calling the guards to come lock it.

Yennefer, scarcely trusting she wouldn't throw herself at his back, stepped back and turned to face the wall. Her only hope was that Ciri would get out and be able to return to the room to hide the letter more efficiently before the secret service men would be able to do their search.

Before Djikstra pulled Geralt into it.

* * *

Ciri was invited in as soon as Yennefer was led away, and the gaunt man stood up greeting her.

"Please, sit, young lady," he smiled charmingly, gesturing for the chair the sorceress had occupied. "We shall do this quick, for as long as you're honest."

Ciri obeyed, casting a quick look around the room. "And Yennefer? Where is she?"

"Oh, she's fine, do not worry, young lady," the man smiled wider, the poster for friendliness. "How shall I call you?"

"My name is Ciri," she said, trying to read that shark-like smile. "And who might you be?"

"I'm secret service, Lady Ciri," he said, inviting her to proceed to the chair with another gesture. "Name's Ebert. Would you please enlighten me on your connection to Lady Yennefer?"

Ciri sat but didn't relax. "Yennefer used to be my tutor when I was a child. We became close. I see her as my mother."

Had Yennefer not explained any of this already?

"I see," he beamed, settling in his chair. "Lovely. Given the nature of her talents, shall I presume you have the same skills upon the said tutoring?"

"I showed some signs of having magical abilities as a child, which is why I was sent to train with Yennefer. But I was unable to complete my education. So I am not a sorceress if that is what you ask."

"I see," he nodded, dimming his smile into something sympathetic. "Have you stayed with her for all the years despite that fact? Or have you parted ways for some periods of time?"

"We got separated years and years ago. We only just reunited a few months ago."

Ciri fell silent for a few seconds, then attempted a cautious smile.

"I was told I was to answer some questions about the bank?"

"Certainly, we'll come to those. But before that, would you be so kind as to clear out a few things for me. In those years of separation, what was your occupancy?"

"None," Ciri answered simply. "After I got separated from Yennefer, I fell into captivity with slave traders. I managed to escape but for a long time - many years - I was forced to run. Hide. This world is not a kind place to a young girl, sir, as I am sure you can imagine."

"Oh, unfortunately, I can imagine plenty on this topic," he gave her a mournful face. "But neither of us would like me to, thus I'll refrain." A smile bloomed over his mouth like a sun peeking from behind a cloud. "I have to ask one thing, however uncomfortable. Have you by any chance participated in any hanza during those unkind years? Um, a band, a gang, anything like that?"

"Ran into several such groups in my time, but no, I was never part of one myself," Ciri lied. She was surprised by how easily the deceit fell from her lips. As though it was the truth. "Why? Do you suspect a hanza robbed Vivaldi's bank?" She tilted her head to the side, emerald eyes wide and guileless.

"There's a lot of suspicions running wild in every investigation, but it's beside the point."

He eyed her with a deceptively warm gaze that swept off her face to her chest. For a split second, no more, but he had what he wanted.

"Have you had any other tuition before Lady Yennefer's? Or after, perhaps?"

"In magic?" Ciri paused. "Triss Merigold attempted to teach me for a bit, but it was decided Yennefer was a better match." She met his gaze head-on, suddenly suspicious. "Are you the leader of the witch hunts?"

He laughed. "Of course not! Nothing of the sort. But what about other kinds of education? Besides the magic?"

"I spent some time with a hermit learning how to tan hides," Ciri admitted. "He was a kind, old man. Nursed me back to health after he found me wounded in the forest."

A slight frown one would take for concern creased his brow. "Who wounded you?"

"A man among a group of thugs. They had taken me captive. Wanted to... planned to do horrible things to me. But I managed to escape with the help of another girl." Ciri touched her fingertips to the scar below her eye. "Not unscathed, obviously."

"Sorry to hear you've been through such trials," he composed a sorrowful mien, his eyes studying her closely. "Is this medallion of yours a mere trinket, then?"

Ciri looked to her chest with a small smile, letting her fingers gently toy with the medallion. "Do you like it?" she asked, eyes alight with warmth. "I know a witcher, you see. The best witcher this world has ever seen. These medallions are special. They alert those who wear them to the presence of monsters. It can be quite useful when traveling."

"Fascinating," he beamed. "Are you a witcher?"

"I wish," Ciri said. "No. He tried to teach me a thing or two, but like with my magical training, it did not work out. Women aren't suited for the profession, apparently."

"Maybe not in the Wolf School," he mused, smiling subtly. "How does it work with you when it only works with a designated witcher? Nor do they give them out like souvenirs. They're relics."

Ciri shrugged gently. "I do not know how it works. I suppose one would have to ask a witcher about that.

"But it was won after a duel with a man who made sport of murdering witchers and taking their medallions as trophies. Geralt kept one as well."

"I see. What relationship are you in with Geralt of Rivia?"

"I was his ward for a while when I was younger. I consider him family."

"Do you share his talents and fighting skills, by chance?"

Ciri looked confused. "His talents?"

"Fighting skills and sensitivity to magic?"

"Comparing my skills to Geralt's would be akin to comparing a newborn foal still learning to stand and a full-grown experienced racehorse," Ciri replied softly. "Like I said, he tried to teach me a few tricks before he realized I had an affinity for magic. Then he sent me to Yennefer."

She paused again, sliding to the edge of her seat.

"Apologies, sir, but I don't understand what this has to do with the robbery?" She frowned. "Were we brought here under false pretenses?"

Ciri honestly could not tell anymore.

"I never mentioned it was a robbery," he remarked, watching her cunningly. His eyes flicked around her figure once again, he tipped his head, smiling. "What a lovely bracelet. Beautiful work, quite unique, I'd say. A custom order, no doubt. May I?" He held out a hand adorned with a stoneless ring.

Ciri didn't indulge him in his request. She did not want him touching her. Something about his smile...It was as cold and empty as Bonhart's eyes had been.

She chose instead to address his earlier statement. "The man who fetched us said you wanted to question everyone who had visited the bank on the day of the robbery."

"It wasn't a robbery," he said, smiling, his hand lowering to the desk. "Why do you wear dimeritium when your so-called mother is a sorceress? It's rather peculiar. As if you're protecting yourself from her."

"Not from her. Myself. People with magic and little training can have accidents. This just suppresses mine, is all."

"So you do have magic," he smiled. "How strong is it?"

"How does one measure such a thing?" Ciri tilted her head to the side again, uncertain. "Why am I here?"

"Because a crime has been committed in a place you've been. Are you familiar with another witcher so often seen with Geralt of Rivia? He goes by the name of Gwyncath of Lyria, or White Cat."

"I am," she admitted when he asked about Kain.

"How close?" he squinted like a cunning fox.

"Familiar? We first met a few months ago. I suppose we are friends."

"Interesting." He smiled. "Have you trained with the same tutors, learned the same magic, anything of sorts?"

Ciri shook her head. "No."

She felt uneasy now. And it had nothing to do with the bank. Or the possibility she might be arrested.

Ebert was asking all the wrong questions. He was showing too much interest in her.

"Why am I here?" she repeated, as calmly as she was able. "I would appreciate the truth this time."

"Oh but, young lady, I haven't deceived you!" He spread his arms momentarily, smiling like friendliness personified. "It might appear strange to a civilian like yourself, but every fact we are gathering is important for a successful investigation. Would you be so kind as to tell us one more thing: where are the two witchers at the moment?"

"They had a contract in Velen. If everything has gone well, they should be on their way back by now."

She tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "So, you have asked everyone who has come here today such detailed and personal questions? It is procedure? I have never been interrogated before."

Not by government officials.

"Yes, that is the procedure," he nodded, smiling. His eyes darted to the door as it opened letting Dijkstra in. "Very well, young lady. We are finished here for now. Thank you for your cooperation." He gave her a short bow of his head, his smile never faltering.

"I shall see you out, Ciri," Sigi said. "Come."

Ciri stood immediately, eyeing the newcomer with mild skepticism. Dijkstra.

She didn't hesitate in following him outside into the hallway.

"Where is Yennefer?"

The Regent of Redania didn't respond until they reached another room he practically ushered her in. He turned to her, towering, his face pinched in pained annoyance. "Your damn Yennefer should've known better. She refused to answer and now she has to wait for her quarters to be searched. They've finished by now, we'll know soon enough." He observed her with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. "Your family of freaks is a pain in my arse, Cirilla, and when I got pain in my arse, I deal with the splinter causing it. I don't know what horseshit you've been up to, but this shit stunk up the whole city, do you understand? I can no longer brush it under any rug - no rugs that big. I need someone for the crowd to see. If it's your witch, I won't protect her unless you tell me the hell it's all about."

Ciri tried to ignore the freaks remark, though secretly ached to punch the giant man's nose in.

The topic of Yennefer was more important. "Refused to answer what?"

"What the hell she wanted from Vivaldi, of course!" he all but yelled. "What was in the fucking letter she was denied? What was so important she made such a mess not even your sodding Hunt managed?"

"What letter?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

He made a face as if she began to reek. He thought for a long moment, worked hard on ruling himself down before he spoke again. "As soon as the Witcher gets back, send him to me. He's the only one who can save her hide. Understand me? Now go and don't think of leaving the city. I need no more problems with your clan of troublemakers."

Not the only one, Ciri thought. She didn't voice this aloud.

"Troublemakers? I resent that statement," she mused, then promptly left, all innocence evaporating from her face as she stepped out of the headquarters and onto the streets.

* * *

"Ciri!" Zoltan slipped off the chair, leaving his nearly emptied cup of mead on the table as he rushed to the girl. "What the hell happened there? What did you two do?"

"They are detaining Yennefer," Ciri said, releasing a sigh. "I don't quite understand what is going on either. They separated us from the very beginning. Questioned Yennefer first and then me. But none of the questions had anything to do with this bank-thing they are all worried about."

"What did they ask about?" he frowned.

"Me. My life, my relationships, my education." Ciri folded her arms across the chest. "What do you know of this Ebert person?"

"Ebert?" He poured a cup of mead behind the counter and offered it to her. "Ye mean Ebert Graf? The new head of the secret service, after Geralt snuffed that arsehole Menge. They say he's tough. Why? Ye seen him?"

"Yes. He was the inquisitor." Ciri sat at the counter, cradling her mead. "He smiles all the time but he's not happy. It's like a wolf showing its teeth."

She took a sip, her brow furrowed.

"Do you think they will hurt Yennefer?"

"Ye gods and little fishes," Zoltan rubbed his neck, eyeballing the girl with mixed feelings. "Lassie, between ye and me, did she pull ye into some of her shady magic business?"

"Of course not!" Ciri said vehemently. "Why is everyone so quick to suspect Yennefer? It is not as though she is some sort of infamous bank robber!"

"Their banks are so protected it's nothing less than a band of powerful mages or elves - I heard both." Zoltan snorted. "They're ready to drop all shit on elves now because there's nothin better to pin it on."

He drank, shaking his head.

"Worst thing the city's closed. And today we open. It's provisioning day - my food and wine importers won't be let in! It's a catastrophe, Ciri. We got nothin left, even for us."

"We'll live," Ciri said. "I've gone days without food before. We can manage."

She took a sip of her mead. "Djikstra told me to get him Geralt. He said only Geralt can get Yennefer out."

"Geralt comes any hour," Zoltan waved a hand. "But we can't go without provision, this is serious. Only ye can help me. Will ye, lassie? Once we settle this, we'll get yer witch out. Good wine and good food is a key to many politicians' bellies."

"Of course I will help you." Ciri stood. "Though I do not like leaving Yennefer with those men by herself."

"She's Yennefer of Vengerberg!" Zoltan cried. "She'll be fine in no time. Dijkstra ain't that stupid, he knows Geralt will be on his arse with all them teeth if he does anythin." He sucked in a deep breath, focusing. "Look, our food supplier Briggo will be outside the gate now. Ye take us outside to the forest - we can't be seen. I'll get him, then ye get us with them boxes back here, all right?"

"Not a problem," Ciri smiled, holding her hand out to the dwarf and wriggling her fingers playfully. "Prepare yourself."

He frowned looking at her hand with sudden wariness, "For what?" And took it reluctantly.


	68. Chapter 68

Yennefer had listened to Dijkstra go, her gaze shifting to the guards on either side the cells, remembering the last time she'd been holed away for nothing.

That hadn't turned out so well, and she doubted this time would be any better. Ebert Graf had been prying too hard on her information and he was too desperate for her guilty conviction. Otherwise, why bother? If he wanted answers, Vivaldi had them. So what was he really after? A scapegoat? Dijkstra had said as much and she wouldn't put it past the entitled scoundrel to do something like that for his own benefit, probably to use her to serve as a warning.

Worse still, what was Geralt going to think once he found out why Yennefer was in chains, to begin with, and what Ciri had done? That still concerned her. She was out there now, alone, unattended, and with no one to keep a close eye on her and keep her from doing anything reckless.

Desperately Yennefer reached out to try and focus on the piece of jewelry that linked her and Geralt, wincing when all it did was fill her with aching pain and nausea. Useless. She couldn't do magic because of the dimeritium and he probably wouldn't have heard her anyway. He hadn't the previous two times she'd tried.

She felt herself grow marginally lightheaded from the minor attempt at combating the shackles and moved to lean against the wall to prop herself. Thankfully they were cleaner than most prisons.

Yennefer dipped to her haunches and had her head practically between her knees when she heard movement in the cell and looked up to see Philippa.

"You can go."

"So precious," Philippa chortled and made a sweeping gesture around them to silence their conversation. Then she folded her arms, observing Yennefer with conceited mirth. "Can't take one's eyes off you for a minute, dear thing. What have you done this time, mm?"

"Too vigorous a banking, apparently. It seems asking questions about one's monetary affairs has become a crime."

"They're going to check the address in that letter," Philippa sneered. "So whether you tell me or not matters little. What I want to know is whether you did it? All four dwarven clans are thrashing in tantrums, and however hilarious it might be, the city is in chaos we can't afford. How hard was it to simply remember the damn address and leave without all of this? Truly, I'm amazed by your reckless stunt. It's like you're finally losing your mind, Yennefer of Vengerberg."

"Maybe I have lost it," Yennefer retorted, straightening up with the use of the wall. It didn't matter, as she doubted very much that the person holding onto the next piece of information would give it up for the sake of some inquisition. "As I informed the man upstairs, I haven't robbed your bank. Like I told your ex-lover, I had absolutely no reason to or need for it. We're already at war. Only it seems he doesn't care to listen to reason. So, why are you here?"

"To let you out." Philippa gave a small nasty smile. "The secret service would pin it on you. They have close to nothing, except for that letter - Vivaldi sang like a nightingale explaining how you demanded a letter for another mage's name and he denied you. The only damn thing to be taken for a conflict of interests."

"If I believed you were here to let me out that would really make me crazy," Yennefer countered, unperturbed that Vivaldi told them anything. The likelihood that anyone holding onto the letter would even hand it over was slim. That's if that was even what lay at the end of that address. "Are you here to lecture me?"

Philippa snapped her fingers, and one of the guards approached to take the shackles off Yennefer's wrists. The other walked the sorceresses out of the headquarters. Philippa took Yennefer under her arm as if they were best friends gossiping on their promenade.

"We need to kill this scandal before it blows out even more," Philippa said. "You better pray your witcher returns soon enough to pin this idiocy on some incredible creature, otherwise _you_ will be it." She let go of the raven-haired mage and nudged her. "Go back to the inn. Try to walk faster."

With that, she turned and walked away.

* * *

It wasn't as scary as Ciri's tone implied, or how Zoltan's mind had tried to paint the whole ordeal.

After a minor dizziness the dwarf had overcome quite soon, he darted toward the city walls where even from the outskirts of the village they saw all the traders that couldn't get in.

"Yee so lucky to have them ways, Zolt," Valtis said counting money while Zoltan dragged the boxes from his cart into the bushes where Ciri waited. "Me thought it's all gone - we need them money for them new seeds and such. Thank yee. Good dealin, good dealin."

"Of course, pal," the dwarf said, pulling the last sack of potatoes. "I'd be as lost."

"Good dealin," the man agreed, smiling so his chubby cheeks turned his small eyes into slits. "Yee sure yee pull them foods from there?"

"No problem," Zoltan nodded and patted the man's back. "Ye go now."

"Me goes now, aye," the man agreed and gathered his mule's reins. He waved a hand and went, the empty cart rolling toward the road where some others began to retreat. No one offered them any news on when the city opened.

"Perfect," Zoltan rubbed his hands when they were in the basement. "I'll sort it later. Now we get the liquors. Listen, lassie, there's this ship outside the harbor, gold and red, name's Baronness. We need to rent a boat in the village outside and row to them."

It was more of a drag to transport the boxes from the ship to shore, and then to the cover of shrubs and trees from where they could teleport them, and both Zoltan and Ciri were tired by the time they got back to the inn.

Yennefer was at one of the tables, a mug of ale in front of her.

"See!" Zoltan cried, grinning. "Told ye this mage won't stay locked away. Ha!"

"Yennefer!" Ciri exclaimed, rushing to the sorceress. "Did they harm you?"

Yennefer leaped from the table as soon as Ciri entered the dining hall from the basement, meeting her halfway, pulling her tightly into her arms. The maids had assured her that the girl had returned at some point after the interrogation the morning, but the more time passed, the less Yennefer believed and had worried something else had gone wrong. She'd only been able to relax when she saw Ciri with her own two eyes.

"No, I'm fine. Where have you been? Have you been down there all this time?"

"Aye, we were. Ciri was helpin me," Zoltan put in, carrying an armful of bottles to the bar. "Now we can open and astonish Novigrad with our abundance, haha!"

He set the battery of bottles on the counter and opened the accounting book.

"How did ye get out?" he asked the enchantress.

"Yes, how did you get out?" Ciri repeated, looking the sorceress over for signs of damage despite her reassurances. "Was it Dijkstra?"

"Philippa let me out," Yennefer answered. She wasn't trying to hide that fact.

When she'd first walked out of the building, she'd expected one of the guards or some other official to drag her back in by the hair. No one had. Not even once she'd reached the inn. She wasn't sure it wouldn't still happen. She had gone upstairs to check the room and found it to be cleaned. They had taken away her luggage chest and searched through all drawers and bedding. The makeup, the perfumes, and her hairbrush, however, were still untouched on the vanity table.

"I'm not too sure why," she added. "I would have thought she'd take advantage of this opportunity since Dijkstra seems set to make me an example."

"He wouldn't!" the dwarf scoffed. "Geralt would rip him a new arsehole."

"We all would," Ciri replied.

"He will. He said as much. Someone has to pay," Yennefer said, no longer all that concerned about that outcome. When it came she'd deal with it.

Ciri fixed Yennefer with a curious look. "What questions did they ask of you? Was it about the bank or... did they want to know your life story?"

"They asked me about the bank, what I did there, what other question I had to ask – which I said they could find out from Vimme – but it wasn't enough. What did they ask you?"

"About you, Geralt, Kain, my relationship to you all. As well as my education and other details from my childhood. Nothing of the bank at all."

"And what did you tell him? A highlight…"

Zoltan watched them, frowning in thought while opening a bottle of Kovirian wine.

"More or less," Ciri said. "Without revealing my true identity." She frowned. "Though Dijkstra knows. I suppose he may have told Ebert."

"Then he let you leave? That was it? He didn't say he'd want to see you again?"

"He said we were finished for now. Not quite certain what to make of that."

"Make it that yer free, then," Zoltan said, approaching them with the bottle and cups. "Unless ye guilty."

"She's not," Yennefer retorted, shooting a glance at Zoltan. "Neither of us is. But that doesn't mean he is going to care to listen. Maybe you should meet Kain and Geralt and stay away from Novigrad a few more days until all of this starts to die away."

"Me?" Ciri asked, perplexed. "Don't be preposterous. I am not leaving you."

"No one's leavin," Zoltan said. "It'll blow off soon enough one way or another. But if they got their eyes on ye and either of ye leaves, it's like confession."

"There's nothing to confess," retorted Yennefer, "because she never did anything. All she did was accompany me on an errand. They can't fault or stop her because of that."

"You're right," Ciri agreed. "They can't stop me. But they can punish you for it. It is out of the question. I am done hiding, remember?"

"Then listen to me. I'm not asking you to hide, Ciri, I'm asking you to live. This isn't your problem and you have enough to deal with when it comes to the Wild Hunt." Yennefer knew how these things could go as she'd dealt with a lot of politics. She suspected that more could happen should Geralt and Kain reach the city, too. She'd rather they stayed away and took Ciri with them. She also wouldn't mind if Zoltan went with them.

"I already told you my decision, Yennefer," Ciri said firmly. "You won't be able to sway my mind. Accept it."

"What is this rubbish, anyway?" Zoltan winced, annoyed and puzzled. "If none of ye did anythin, then why this talk? We stay put and open the damn cabaret, and then find a way to smuggle in Dandelion and the witchers. Then we decide what we do about this banking mess."

"Consider it accepted," Yennefer after a beat. Ciri could be as stubborn as she was at times and she didn't want to force a situation where what Kain confided in them turned out to be true. "You should still find Kain and Geralt and warn them. They've taken quite a while to get back, anyway."

Ciri was reluctant. The humiliation and heartache of Kain's rejection still fresh in mind.

"I'm sure they'll be here soon enough. They will probably sneak into the city and find us."

"I'm sure they'll be here any hour," Zoltan said, finishing his drink. "Ciri... the secret service lads were here, searched the rooms. I had no time to check after them. Could ye go see if they took anything of yers?"

"Will do," Ciri agreed after a moment's hesitation.

She had another large gulp of her ale, then headed upstairs.

The room she and Yennefer had used for the past few days didn't look much different at all except for one glaring fact – Yennefer's chest of belongings was missing.

Ciri was not entirely certain of all the contents in there but assumed the secret service had taken an interest in the magical ingredients and tools. Didn't matter that the witch hunts had stopped for now.

Other, more mundane belongings, such as Yennefer's flask of perfume and her hairbrush still lay neatly on the vanity. The bedsheets were rumpled and the mattress slightly askew. It didn't take Ciri long to note that Amos's letter was gone as well.

"Damn it," Ciri muttered under her breath. What did that mean for Yennefer?

She proceeded to check the other rooms available, as well, but of course, they had nothing of importance, to begin with. The familiar askew bedsheets told her that every room had been searched, however.

She paused outside Avallac'h's door, hand raised to knock, then decided against it. She feared he would be able to see right through her, and though she doubted the elf would throw Ciri into the jaws of the authorities, she wasn't eager for a new confrontation. Best left for another time.

Zoltan poured himself another drink, watching Yennefer shrewdly, silent for as long as Ciri jogged up the stairs.

"Can ye tell me now in all honesty that ye didn't make lassie do anythin she'd regret?" he asked when Ciri was out of earshot.

"I can tell you I didn't make her do anything," Yennefer said, not really lying as much as she was omitting part of the truth. "They didn't question you?"

"Nothin more than a few questions," he said. "I'm just an innkeeper." He drained his cup and gave Yennefer a grave look, producing an envelope from the back pocket of his breeches. "This has Vivaldi stamp," he stated. "Ye sure there's nothin I should know?"

Yennefer's lips quirked slightly.

"I suppose I can tell you since you saved my letter. That, in your hand, has to do with finding more information on a djinn. A book. Care to know more than that?"

"A djinn?" Zoltan grimaced. "I don't think I ought to know of any djinns. But that better not concern Ciri. She needs no more problems with any magic shite yer up to, Yennefer. Ye gotta promise me that."

"It doesn't," Yennefer assured. It hadn't until last night. Ciri had been helping her, or that had been the idea, until it all went wrong.

He handed her the letter and waved a hand toward the kitchen. "Yer coffer's in the cellar, the furthest corner. Bloody heavy, I should say. I ain't draggin it back up, either."

She took the letter, opening it so she could inspect it before destroying it as per Philippa's suggestion in the dungeon. It was too risky to keep now. "You're a saint," she commented even as her gaze skimmed the lettering, her fingertips grazing an etching in the page that seemed to ignite beneath them. A magic watermark. Dammit. If she was to get what she was looking for she was going to have to keep it. "Thank you for saving it from them. If anything, I think I'll keep it down there for a while longer. If that's all right with you?" Yennefer asked, looking up, deciding to give the dwarf a little respect given what he'd done for her.

"It's a cellar," he peered at her ironically. "Foods and wines are stored there. Once we open tonight, our cooks will go there and back. Ye don't want that. Take it back and hide better."

"Why are you opening to the public, to begin with?" Yennefer asked with all seriousness, folding up the letter so she could return it to its envelope. "What about the Wild Hunt?"

"The city is closed, and people are antsy! They need a place to feel better, to chat with others about their ordeals. It's good for business and for keepin a straight face to all them authorities and secret services. We got nothin to fear or hide. If we stay closed, people forget us, and it's bad for business, as ye damn well know yerself."

He filled both their cups.

"Ye didn't steal that letter, did ye?"

"Do you really want an honest answer to that?" Yennefer asked, sliding the letter into the top of her shirt so that she could nestle it against her breast, and for the time keep it from prying eyes should someone walk into the dining hall.

Zoltan grimaced, his cup frozen halfway to his lips. He lowered it and cussed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Ye don't joke around with this, Yennefer," he reprimanded. "All four dwarven banks are thrashed, they say. Some trinkets stolen, but all guards gone, plain gone. Floors bloody, and no bodies found. All four of them damn banks! What coulda done it, ye say? All in one night!"

Yennefer smiled grimly, but inside another needle of dreadful recognition pricked her in the gut.

"Your guess is as good as mine on that one."

"Do ye even have one?" he chortled and drank. "Whatever it is, they want Geralt to aid them, I know as much."

"Yes, Djikstra said as much about Geralt." How satirical that her life would be in his hands again because she was seeking something to do with the djinn. "Hopefully he'll arrive soon."

"Something held 'em," Zoltan mused. "Maybe even the damn blockade. Unless they went to Oxenfurt first. Woulda made sense."

"They took your chest," Ciri said when she descended the stairs, coming to a halt at their table. "Left some cosmetics, but they've rummaged through everything else."

"Of course they did," Zoltan huffed.

"Zoltan managed to save some of my possessions," Yennefer assured. She'd already seen the damage. "Did they take anything of yours?"

"No." Ciri thought for a moment. "But I don't really have anything."

"The sorceresses skipped off someplace, so did yer elf," Zoltan said. "Not much else to pick through up there."

"Philippa doesn't stay here anymore?"

"They don't report to me," the dwarf said. "I don't see any of them, nor do I miss their presence. Good riddance."

Yennefer said, "I didn't think they would, but given the fact that they take up of your rooms, I figured you'd keep a better account."

"Perhaps they are out recruiting now they can wander town freely again?" Ciri suggested. "You know, new mages for their guild."

"I bet yer Philippa has her claws all up in Dijkstra's business," said Zoltan, "and others might be back in Oxenfurt. None of them returned yet."

Yennefer nodded, "Philippa definitely has her hand in somewhere or I wouldn't be sitting here."

"Question is, what does she expect in return?" Ciri asked cautiously.

"She won't forget to tell ye, don't ye worry," Zoltan snorted.

"Zoltan's right. When we need to know, we'll know, and I doubt we'll be pleased about it."

"When we finish with The Hunt we can kill her." The words slipped from Ciri so quickly and casually even she was surprised.

She attempted a smile to recover.

"I'm jesting, of course. What I mean is, we only have to put up with them until this is all over."

In the past, and as a joke, Yennefer would have agreed mockingly, but there was nothing funny about the comment Ciri had made with what she remembered from the night before.

"Hopefully that won't be for much longer."

Zoltan glanced between them ironically. "Ye think we're close to beating the Hunt? Seems like the opposite to me for now."

He finished his wine and smacked his lips.

"I better take my behind to the pantry and sort the foods. Ye get some rest, ladies."

* * *

When the witchers and their three exhausted companions crossed into Lindenvale, it was past that time when farmers return from their fields for a supper break when the sun appears to be the hottest. Only there was no sun in sight: there were swollen thunderclouds hanging in the sky, getting darker. Soon enough something flashed in their gut, and it thundered - like a giant nut being cracked open. Soon enough the first heavy drops fell down, paving the way for a hailstorm.

They could've gotten there sooner, but given the poor state of the three survivors and their inability to travel on foot, Geralt had decided to head for the Reardon manor first. It took them about two hours instead of the fourth of it due to constant stops: the three men could not contain what they had drunk the night before, nor stay straight on horseback. Kain and Geralt had to walk leading their mounts with the villagers riding them. Dolores Reardon honored her gratitude for Geralt's previous service and let them have the old cart from her barn. She still owned no horse and had no use for it.

Roach had strictly refused to play the mule, and Onyx didn't seem concerned with being chosen for the assignment. Even with the cart and both witchers on their mounts, they couldn't afford to put some pep into their journey, for the three men were still sickly and weak.

Two of them were taken into care by Lindenvale people, and the third was reunited with his wife and her mother.

"Bad luck," muttered Geralt, watching the hailstorm through the tavern window, sipping his ale. A plate of fried potatoes with mushrooms remained untouched - he felt too tired to eat.

Kain was trying to deal with his, but with not much enthusiasm. He could barely keep his eyes open. They had caught less than two hours of uneasy slumber before rising for the journey.

He eyed his brother pensively. "What do you plan to do?"

Geralt rubbed his eyes burning from the lack of sleep. "We need rest. And then we need to go back to the bog and find the godlings."

Kain sighed and drank his ale. "We can't linger that long without letting Yennefer and Ciri know we're alive and merely busy."

"I don't want Ciri to know about it, remind her of the bog."

"Fair reservation, but scarcely manageable. You can't keep her in the dark."

"I can say it's a contract."

"She'll want to do it with you." Kain forked a mushroom and sent it to his mouth.

Geralt heaved a sigh. "I don't know. I need to think of something."

"She catches on the slightest attempts to keep her at arm's length and is touchy about it."

"I know." Geralt rubbed his face and looked at his cooling meal morosely. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Dropping by Oxenfurt before following this bog tail might not be amiss."

Geralt thought of Dijkstra and winced. Then looked out the window. Hail pitter-pattered against the glass, lightning flashed, followed by a belated thunder blast.

The Witcher picked up his fork and attempted to snack.

"You think we should leave this and focus on the Hunt and Sunstone mission like Avallac'h suggested?" he asked, forking his potatoes.

"Sounds about right," Kain mused, "but if you think about it... Even if we get that Sunstone, gather our forces, and manage to draw the elven army to our chosen battlefield, it doesn't guarantee our victory. In the meantime, we have those scout units in the bog. We have no idea whether there are more, or if more are going to sneak in. It doesn't seem wise to ignore it, either."

"Hmm."

* * *

Ciri didn't immediately move as Zoltan excused himself and went to tend to his business. She drank her ale and waited until she and Yennefer were alone. "The letter is gone."

"Zoltan managed to save it for me," Yennefer said, patting at the space on her body where it warmed against her skin beneath her clothes. "What I don't understand is how Philippa knew about the information. The address. Unless she was the one to give it to Zoltan…"

Ciri squinted in thought. "Is it possible she's had access to Amos's vault?"

"Perhaps. She is power-hungry and too close to Dijkstra. She probably has access to everything he and secret service are occupying themselves with, all information they dig up she gains, I'm sure."

"Right." Ciri paused, casting a quick glance around to make sure they were alone. Then she leaned in. "I placed a copy of the letter back in the vault."

"You what?" Yennefer asked, leaning in closer. "Why would you do that? When did you do that?"

"Last night when you were away," Ciri smiled. "Because I knew if they had found the letter to be missing, you would be their very first and best suspect."

Yennefer was grateful for that now to some extent, but it still concerned her, it worried her that Ciri had done so without consulting her. She nodded. At least that was one thing explained. But what of the four other banks?

"What do you think happened with the other banks?"

"What other banks?" Ciri inquired, eyes wide.

She knew, of course. She knew very well what had happened. But someone had yet to mention to her more than one bank had been breached. How did Yennefer know?

Yennefer frowned slightly. She'd have thought that Master Interrogator would have provided her with that information already. Perhaps he'd limited it, too.

"Apart from the bank we visited last night, three others were pilfered from as well. Dijkstra is under the impression that I made an ambiguous excursion and that I'm desperate for finance."

"Then Dijkstra is an idiot," Ciri scoffed. "How could you possibly have traveled all over town and wreaked such havoc without the aid of your magic? It has to be someone else."

Her mouth twisted in a sly grin. "Someone special."

Yennefer was about to clarify that she did have magic, that from Dijkstra's perspective it made sense, but that he didn't quite grasp how tiring it was – that she didn't have the ability to move that quickly or to subdue that many guards at once. And they were missing. Or so they'd claimed, if Zoltan was anything to go by.

"You?" Yennefer asked as Ciri's concluding words dawned on her. Her stomach had dropped, her gaze transfixed on her face. "Why—why would you do that?"

"I should have thought that's obvious," Ciri said. "To throw the suspicion off you. Each one of those banks has security measures in place that block magic. _Your_ kind of magic. And with the chaos and number of banks hit in one night, they will soon realize it is impossible for one person to be the culprit. It is much more likely to be the work of a criminal hanza taking advantage of the city in its weakened state. And, since the letter still resides within Amos's vault, the motive of the crime committed does not make sense to be placed with you."

She beamed, proud.

Yennefer had to admit that the thought behind the action was solid, but she couldn't quite bring herself to match Ciri's smile.

"Are the rumors of the guards true? Are they truly missing?"

"I suppose so. Until their bodies are found." Ciri drained the last of her mead.

Yennefer sat back in her chair at a loss of what to say. She was trying to wrap her head around how Ciri had thought that covering up one lot of bodies needed to be masked by three more lots? How long had Yennefer been gone? An hour? How'd Ciri managed to achieve that in such a short amount of time? Why would she—the girl who wanted to save people—do something like that? An image of Ciri's laugh the night before played through her mind, followed by the smile Yennefer had seen on her face when she'd returned from getting rid of the other trinkets they'd stolen and found her in bed. Ciri had been happy then, she was indifferent now, as if she didn't care or feel anything about what she'd done.

Yennefer didn't say anything, so Ciri assumed they were done with the topic.

She felt a tad disappointed. She'd expected Yennefer to be proud, to praise her for her clever ideas and bravery. But perhaps that was not something one did with adults. Only children who were still being taught.

So Ciri did not linger on the thought.

"I suppose you will have to wait for a bit before you can seek out the address in the letter?"

Yennefer nodded absentmindedly. The letter and following up to find out the information on the Djinn had become secondary, and a part of her that worried for Ciri regretted involving her at all.

"It's probably best to wait for a few weeks at least."

"Geralt will most likely find out what you're up to by then," Ciri warned. "He may try to stop you."

"Given the fact that Dijkstra is determined to pull Geralt in to solve this crime – I wouldn't be amazed. It might be best to be upfront from the beginning."

"Probably," Ciri agreed. She wasn't certain how Geralt would react, but she imagined he wouldn't be happy. He'd already confided in her he did not want any more magical disturbances to his mind.

"We might take some care to send them a message. Warn them about what's happening in Novigrad before they get here or one of the other officials get to them first."

"Not a bad idea." Ciri sat up a little straighter. "Will you teach me how?"

"You know I would happily do so," Yennefer stated, again finding it odd that she wasn't volunteering to check on them. "Is there a reason you don't want to take it to them in person?"

"I told you," Ciri said, getting to her feet. "I am not leaving town while you are here. Not now.

"I'll go ask Zoltan for some paper and ink."

Yennefer didn't know what to say since Ciri sounded so defensive about it. Had something else happened?

She nodded again. "The sooner we get it done, the better."

Ciri didn't take long in her quest to locate what they needed to write a message, returning to Yennefer after Zoltan had donated some scraps of parchment and a quill.

"What shall we write?" Ciri asked. "If we worry them too much, they will come galloping expecting war."

"Tell them there has been an incident at the Novigrad banks, that both you and I have been questioned and that Dijkstra is looking for him to help solve the mystery. Tell him it's imperative that once he reaches the city – that he comes to see us first."

Ciri scribbled down what Yennefer has said, almost word for word.

When she finished, she put the quill down and held the paper out to Yennefer. "What is the next step?"

"Gently close your hands around the message, push your magic to the forefront where you can feel it in your fingertips, focus on Geralt's face and repeat after me: Tak długo, mój płomieniu, nieś tę wiadomość."

Ciri did as instructed, cradling the sheet of paper and closing her eyes so she could focus on Geralt. It was always easy to find her connection to him.

The words were harder. She faltered twice and was forced to start over before she felt something happening.

A light crackling along the palms of her hands. When she opened them, the paper was gone.

"As long as you have a connection to someone or something – a tangible connection – you'll always be able to send a message or ask for help."

Yennefer took Ciri's hands after she'd completed the task, satisfied that the darkness she worried about hadn't taken her over completely. Yennefer wanted to say something, relay her concerns, but she wasn't sure how to do that without scaring Ciri away.

"I shall remember that."

Perhaps if Ciri had known earlier, she could have found Geralt and Yennefer sooner in the past.

Or perhaps not, considering Ciri had been so disconnected with her magic she had thought it gone forever.

"A shame they will not be able to respond. Unless Kain knows how."

"I'm sure Kain has picked up some form of communication," Yennefer agreed.

"What kind of calamity has happened around here?" asked Margarita, coming down the stairs. "And where is anyone I can ask for two hot meals for me and Triss?"

"A bank robbery, apparently," Ciri replied, looking over her shoulder at the sorceress who had just joined them. "As for a meal, you should ask the maids."

"Where's Triss?" Yennefer asked, seeing Margarita descend the stairs alone. "Is she still bedridden?"

"A robbery!" Margarita raised an eyebrow with surprised amusement. She stopped at their table, folding her arms. "Something new." She looked to Yennefer. "She's upstairs, resting. She's mostly well, just a little fatigue left."

"Didn't Philippa tell you? She seems to be involved in the investigation."

Margarita gave her a bewildered look. "I only just arrived, I haven't seen anyone but you two. Though her involvement doesn't surprise me - surely Dijkstra is, as well." She smiled subtly. "The poet passed his regards," she added, mostly to Ciri. "I believe he wants to wait for Geralt to return here together."

"Why?" Ciri frowned. "Is he frightened?"

Rita shrugged, "Never said so. Nor reported his reasons. Why would I care to ask?" She strolled toward the kitchen, hips swaying, skirts flying in soft waves.

"He was strange the last time I spoke to him," Ciri told Yennefer. "More sensitive than usual. I think this whole Hunt thing is getting to him."

"Who? Geralt?" Yennefer asked after Margarita had left them to tend to getting her food.

"Dandelion," Ciri replied. "He seemed reluctant to come back here at all."

"Do you blame him after Oxenfurt? That was a hard blow. What of his lover? The cheery blonde..."

"I don't know. He was preoccupied with other women when I found him."

"Other women? As in tending to them?"

Ciri hesitated. "More like enjoying an audience to his tales."

"Of course," Yennefer retorted. "He never could shy away from telling a story."

"Is Fringilla around?" Margarita asked, carrying a tray with bowls and a loaf of bread. "I assume Phil isn't."

"Fringilla was around last night," Yennefer answered, shrugging. "I haven't seen her this morning."

"I've yet to see either of them," Ciri added, turning towards Margarita with a curious look. "What was wrong with Triss?"

Rita rolled her eyes, "Caught some ailment from one of the wounded she's been treating. Fever, diarrhea, vomiting, all pleasures of mortal life. Too much magic use made her susceptible, we suppose. That redhead medic put her back together rather artfully, I should admit."

"So the diagnosis is that Triss will live. Good news," Yennefer stated.

"Of course she will," Rita smirked. "Not many mortals die from it, either. Though I'm no expert in their... health predicaments. You can go see her when you like. I'm sure she'll love it. She's been asking about you all constantly."

"You mean Kain and Geralt?" Ciri wagered with an uncertain look. She stood, brushing her hands against her thighs. "I suppose now is as good a time as any. Do you wish to come, Yennefer?"

Rita didn't answer and proceeded for the stairs.

Yennefer considered her choices, and then rose up off her chair. "Zoltan asked me to move my chest from the basement. I'll do that and then join you. Did they rustle up Kain's room much?"

"Not at all," Ciri said. "Nothing to take."

She followed in Margarita's wake and jogged up the stairs to the third floor to find Triss.

That's where Yennefer would keep her chest for now then. He wasn't present to mind. She followed Ciri with her eyes and then headed for the basement.

Triss was fully dressed but resting on her bed. She wasn't asleep and sat up slowly when they came in.

"Ciri!" she beamed with genuine warmth. "Oh, how happy I am to see you all safe and sound! I missed you. Are you all fine? Yennefer? Geralt? I feel so guilty for my ailment that prevented me from coming sooner and with Dandelion, he had to stay behind..."

"We're fine," Ciri assured her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Geralt and Kain are yet to return but they should be on their way. How are you feeling?"

"I'm so much better thanks to Rita and Fringilla - they took turns with Dandelion and that lovely girl, Shani. She helped so much." Triss smiled. "I'm all good now, just a little weak from all the lying down I've been doing."

She accepted a bowl of chicken soup from Margarita and sniffed.

"Smells delicious," she sighed. "Now that I feel I can finally keep it down."

"I am glad you are feeling better," Ciri said with a small smile, watching as Triss took her first tentative spoonful of soup. "And how are things in Oxenfurt? Still chaotic?"

Triss shook her head subtly, darting a quick glance to catch Margarita leaving the room.

"It's almost back to normal now, all buildings repaired by both us and people. Many of the wounded got well, others are getting better." She swallowed another spoonful and peered at Ciri like a kicked dog would. "I'm so immensely sorry about before, Ciri, my darling, I would never suggest any horrible things about you and Kain. Phil... she has her own views which are impossible to sway her from. She has an image of the realm she wants to make real. I don't want to make any enemies, nor make her push me away - then I won't be able to help you and Yennefer in any way."

"What is that image? That Philippa has?" Ciri asked cautiously.

Triss shrugged her shoulders timidly, looking into the bowl. "She doesn't offer her visions as openly as before when we formed the Lodge. But it does include you on a throne where you get the most power to make changes to how the Continent people live. She believes it's your destiny to rule. And that your child - should you have it with the best candidate - would be even more powerful."

Ciri nodded. This was not exactly surprising news.

"And that candidate should be someone of her choosing, I suppose? Like with that Prince... Tankred?"

"King Tankred now," Triss smiled. "He offered me the place of his advisor in Kovir. I thought I would stay there, but then Geralt found you, and the Hunt... All of this started, and I had to return."

Ciri would normally have felt guilt at that. For tearing someone she loved away from where they wanted to be. But she didn't. She didn't feel it at all. Yet she knew she should.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh no!" Triss touched a hand to her cheek gently. "No, Ciri, no regrets. I would always come to your aid. Any time, my little sister. Don't be sorry."

"Will you be able to go back there when this is all over?" Ciri asked.

"I would, of course." She took another spoonful, eyeing Ciri wistfully. "Would you want to go with me and look at that land? Tankred is a wonderful man, very educated, smart and... incredibly handsome. Taking after his father at that."

Ciri rolled her eyes. "I am not breeding with King Tankred. Don't ask me to."

Triss laughed. "I'm not proposing his hand, Ciri - though I'm fairly certain he would ponder it if he met you. I wish for you to meet him and see for yourself what kind of man he is. That is all. One more friendly face in the world never hurts, does it?"

Ciri leaned in a little, elbows on her knees. "Triss, compared to the men at court, I am a savage. Not a one would find me remotely attractive or suitable as a mate."

But what were the chances of this visit even coming to fruition with everything else happening?

"Perhaps once The Hunt is defeated. I would like to see new lands."

Triss smiled warmly. "You're too harsh on yourself for no reason. You're one of the most beautiful princesses I've seen, and I've seen many. Your life, experience, your scar - none of it makes you a savage or anything less than wonderful. You're wonderful, Ciri, you merely need to accept it."

"I don't feel wonderful," Ciri admitted softly, then chose to push through and change the topic. "Are there still things that need to be done in Oxenfurt? Somewhere I can lend my aid?"

"I don't believe so," Triss scraped the spoon over the bottom of the bowl, gathering the last of the soup. "The Academy students and masters alike have done all that we could not, and the citizens have been working hard on repairs. The city looks its old self, save the people's memory. That takes more time to heal."

"If they ever do," Ciri mused. She looked at Triss's empty bowl. "Shall I bring that downstairs for you?"

"Oh, no need, darling. I wanted to take a walk to my house - Fringilla told me it was returned to me after the witch hunt was finished. But with what seems to be going on it's hardly a good idea. It can wait. I can walk around here, though."

"Perhaps then you'd like a companion in that walk," Yennefer said as she stepped into the bedroom. She'd been eavesdropping outside to hear what Triss had to say. It seemed that whenever they talked lately it was devoid of sincerity or honesty – constantly at odds. Yennefer knew they always would be, but it didn't change the fact that they had history, had been through war together on multiple occasions.

Triss beamed, "Of course! My little house must be in a horrible disarray after all the searches by Witch Hunters, but I shall clean it once I can. I'll be glad if you come with me."

"Consider it done," Yennefer responded, returning Triss's smile with a half one of her own. "You're looking far healthier than the last time I saw you."

"I'm much better. You should've seen me two days ago. It was horrible." She looked between them. "Is Geralt all right? And Kain? It's been seven days or so, I've lost track of life..." She rubbed her temple, remembering. "Kain was wounded... and you, Ciri. I'm happy to see you're all right."

"Kain healed," Yennefer said, keeping the information on that limited, saving Ciri from having to explain in depth. "Geralt is healthy, too. They're on their way back from Nenneke's temple. They opted to ride. They should have been here already. We sent them a message. If they don't respond and aren't here come the time we decide we've had enough of the day, we'll have to make a point of searching for them, make sure they didn't find new misfortune."

"They could've been held up," Triss suggested, setting the empty bowl on the tray Rita had left on the table. "You know Geralt, he often is asked for help and rarely refuses."

"Yes, I wouldn't be surprised. They didn't seem in a hurry to return," Ciri said. "They would still be in Ellander if I had not insisted we go back."

"Ellander," Triss grinned. "Oh, I would love to go back there, too. For a little moment of peace. He must have missed Nenneke. I do, too. Has anything changed there?"

Yennefer shook her head once. "Not in the least. I doubt it'll ever change."

"It's good," Triss said dreamily. "There should be places like that in such a turbulent world like ours."

"Why did you choose Novigrad to live in?" Ciri asked curiously. "Because of your students?"

"I have no students," Triss said. "I found work here before the Witch Hunt broke out last year. And then I was in hiding, trying to help my fellow mages, secretly arranging their escape to Kovir where they were welcome thanks to Tankred. If not for Geralt, I'd be caught. I was trying to aid him in finding you until I had to flee. And then I came to Kaer Morhen to fight with you."

"And now you're here again," Yennefer stated, moving to sit down on the foot of the bed. "What are your plans for after we defeat the Wild Hunt? Kovir?"

"Perhaps," Triss said reluctantly. "It's too early to make plans. A great lot of things can happen between now and then."

Yennefer nodded as it was a fair assessment.

She only wondered if her friend meant battle-wise or with where things might go with Geralt. Yennefer didn't doubt for a second that she was keeping a careful eye.


	69. Chapter 69

_**~ WRITERS' NOTE:**_

_**Greetings, our dearest readers! We came to almost 70 chapters, an incredible amount of words, events and scenes, and we want to acknowledge your loyalty to this story and the efforts you put into talking to us providing your comments. We're immensely happy that you still read us and review our work. It means the world to us! Thank you so very much and stay safe! ~**_

* * *

The hail had exhausted itself after an hour, but the rain refused to subside to more than a drizzle. It added no good to Geralt's foul mood. He had scarcely managed a short nap before an unexplained fire had burst out on the nightstand that was blamed on the candle and exceptionally worn out wood. He didn't feel like continuing to sleep in a room reeking of smoke, and they left the tavern upon purchasing a loaf of bread and a bottle of Temerian wine.

"Perhaps you should go to Oxenfurt or Novigrad to see your friends," Kain suggested, "and I'll try to find the godlings or that old woman."

"No one knows where she is," Geralt said, chewing on a piece of bread. "One told me she used to live in Oreton, another swore it was Drudge."

"I was sworn to it was Frischlow. And some man said he heard she lived up in Benek."

"I've been to Benek not long ago, haven't seen her there, nor heard of a blind crone."

Kain chuckled. "Why would you, unless you searched every hut."

"She's an old woman that can't see. Wouldn't it be her last pleasure in life to warm her bones in the sun outside her house?"

"Benek is a windy place - no old person would like it there. And it's a bit outside of the Bog's area. Besides, she wasn't that much of a cripple with those eyes, as we've seen."

"What if the Crones gave her that power and now it's gone?"

Kain shrugged. "It's possible. But then the only thing you gain from seeing her is getting a confirmation of it."

"That would be good enough. Someone, or something, is stirring the bog's creatures, making them attack people. Something attracts the Hunt. I have to investigate all the connections."

"That's a damn lot of work, Geralt. Especially now."

"Nevertheless, we can't leave until this is settled."

"Fair enough, I suppose. Will you go back to Oxenfurt?"

"I don't like to send you to the swamps alone, and the godlings know me. I need to be the one talking to them."

"I can visit a village or two while you're gone, then."

Geralt considered him. "You're not inclined to go back with me?"

"This way we don't lose time and... I'm not, really."

"She won't hate you."

"She's hurt. Hardly she'd want to see me. It should ease a little."

"Ease for her or for you?"

"I'll be fine."

"Hmm."

They rode to the bridge, leading to the island where Mulbrydale and Hanged Man's Tree lay. They stopped short of the crossing.

"I'll go to Oxenfurt," Geralt said. "It's closer and there's someone I'd like to talk to before picking our route with this. Where do we meet?"

"I will visit the boatmaker and then Oreton or Drudge. Depends on what else people tell me, if anything."

"Come to Oxenfurt tomorrow by dusk."

Kain nodded. They bid their farewells and rode in opposite directions.

* * *

At the decline of the day, nothing new was discovered on the bank problem, but _Rosemary and Thyme_ was filling with guests rather rapidly. Zoltan was hosting, shaking hands, exchanging opinions and rumors, laughing and promising some rounds of Gwent later to lighten the atmosphere, while the maids fussed with trays and bottles, hurrying on their way between the kitchen and the hall. The courtesans strolled among the patrons, glasses in their hands, and masks on their faces; a mixed band of humans and elves played on the stage where a trio of women danced seductively, wearing close to nothing.

Most talks were about the banks and how anyone could pull it off. The majority believed it could be no other than magic users, others thought the bankers conspired to make a fuss and withdraw some large sums or rob some clients of their jewels and coin. There was no version of the event to satisfy all conditions, and thus a lot of arguments broke out, more wine was consumed, voices raised, and more food ordered to ease the agitation.

"Any word from witchers?" Zoltan asked, catching a moment to seek out Ciri who was standing on the stairs observing the crowd.

Ciri tore her gaze off the table that was playing Gwent to focus on the dwarf.

"No. None at all. I sent them a message, but..." she shrugged. "Maybe I did it wrong."

Or maybe they just did not want to answer her.

That thought stung.

"Darn," the dwarf said, disappointed, but then his face composed a smile for Ciri's sake. "It's all right, lassie. Another day or so. Long way from Ellander."

"Yes. If only there was a quicker way," Ciri mused sarcastically.

Zoltan burst out laughing. "Aye, lassie, ye don't get to see him jump that offering. Ye wanna go down, drink and gamble a little?"

"Don't have any coin at the moment," she said, eyeing the crowd. A smirk claimed her lips. "And I'm not sure I'm willing to offer up anything else they might want."

Zoltan's smile dimmed a notch at the innuendo, but he decided not to sharpen his attention on it. A slip of tongue, mayhaps? She's been through questioning, after all.

"All good, suit yerself. Yer witch all right?"

"As far as I can tell. Probably tired, though. Being interrogated and suspected of crime wears on the mind, I'm sure."

"Aye, it does. Well, here's to hope they find who did it sooner than we all lose our patience and freedoms." He patted her arm and went back to the patrons, joining one of the game tables.

Ciri watched him go with a thoughtful expression. "Yes. Wouldn't that be wonderful."

* * *

It was long after midnight when Geralt walked into _The Alchemy_ to book himself a room. There were no free ones, and even Dandelion's eternal reserve was given to a couple of merchants. Stjepan the Innkeeper was incredibly sorry to disappoint the famous Geralt of Rivia, but there was nothing he could do, given the situation in Novigrad. Icy dread locked Geralt's spine when he asked the innkeeper to elaborate, but before the man could, a melodic voice from the room called the Witcher's name.

"Took you long enough," Fringilla remarked, eyeing Geralt with her cunning green eyes candlelight danced in. "We finished a few days back, and your poet still lingers waiting for you, as he explained."

"Where is he? Something happened?"

"Not here, no. Triss got sick in her usual manner, spent a week or more in bed. Margarita took her back to Novigrad earlier today. She's fine now, just a bit weak. And I came here for your poet friend, but he refused me, said he'd wait for you so you could ride. I've been sitting here ever since."

"Why?" Geralt asked, sneering a little.

She shrugged like a cat stretching. "Call it a hunch. Thought you'd come."

"What happened in Novigrad?"

"Some amazing thing – all the banks were broken into and robbed. Dijkstra is digging dirt with his hooves, demanding you. Phil is antsy. Yennefer and Ciri have been questioned by the secret service – they've been to Vivaldi the day before the robbery. Both set free, though, so don't worry."

Geralt scowled, digesting. And worrying. "Dijkstra wants me, why?"

"Investigation isn't getting far. They got nothing, as far as I know. The magic blocks did nothing to prevent it, and all bank guards are missing, except for the signs of a fight."

"I see. Couldn't be the worst timing."

"Indeed," she sighed and smiled. "Trouble picks no time. It strikes."

"We shall ride there, then. Dandelion at the Academy, I presume?"

"At the clinic, more likely. They spend a lot of time with the medic girl."

Geralt smirked. "I see. You going back?"

"I can take you, but one of you. The city is blocked – they shall let _you_ in to bring you to Dijkstra, but not Dandelion."

"Hmm. Means I have to ride, and you should take him. If he wants to go, that is."

"You look rundown, Geralt. I should take you."

He pondered. "Can this whole mess wait a day?"

"Yennefer seems to be a good suspect for them unless you find a better one. So probably not."

Geralt cursed, scoffing out an exhale. "They locked her up?"

"Not yet. Philippa said it's undecided."

"All right. Take Dandelion if he's willing, and go. I'll ride."

"Geralt…"

"I'll be fine."

"Very well." She stood and strolled for the door. Both the Innkeeper and the witcher watched her go with a pleased twitch of their mouths.

* * *

Ciri was in the process of undressing for bed when she sensed a portal appearing somewhere in the inn. Fringilla or Philippa, she reasoned. Either way, it was of little interest to her.

She slipped into the bed Kain had abandoned more than a week earlier and set her mind on rest.

* * *

"Are you ploughing joking with me?" Dijkstra raged. "I'm in shit up to my damn nose and you come here belated to fucking play hard-to-get like a damn virgin? You think I'm jesting with you and your witch-cunt? Watch me send her back to cells in manacles and let them guards have their way with her, it's the least I can get for all the trouble!"

Geralt was glaring at the spy with his arms folded, his jaw set. He didn't interrupt until there came a natural pause in Sigi's spit-flying speech.

"I didn't deny you," he said in a quiet menacing tone. "All I said was I need some shuteye before I go in. I'll need a potion, it's draining work and I haven't slept for-"

"Look closely at my face, Witcher, and tell me if any of the pores in my skin betray that I care about your fucking sleep! I don't even know what sleep is in this shithole, trials and problems keep piling up like no one's business, and then you come to me mumbling about your sodding shuteye! You know what, go and have your sleep while your sorceress entertains the guards, how about that?"

"Do you want me to solve your problem, Dijkstra, or you want me to eviscerate you?" Geralt asked, deceptively calm. His eyes shone reflecting candlelight, and it made him look like an undead. Sigi felt an involuntary quiver deep in his gut.

"The whole shitload of people will be on you when it's daylight," he argued, fisting his hand on the desk. "Better do it now when you can and then go fuck yourself to sleep if you must. Someone broke through the magic blocks and your damn sorceress was the only witch visiting the bank that day. I got no one else to pin it on, so I swear to gods and monsters I shall throw her under the axe."

"She has no motive."

Dijkstra laughed, the sentiment was devoid of mirth. "It's hilarious how you still believe you understand their motives, Geralt. Where's your White Cat?"

"Dealing with a contract elsewhere."

Sigi leaned forward with a nasty smile. "I bet he's not doing it from his bed. Listen, Witcher. You go in and sniff those banks out and tell me of anything you find. And then you get your shuteye before you drag the criminal before me so I rub the secret service in their incompetence. You, your Yennefer, and your little devil Cirilla - all win from this. How much do you care to let them sleep this night in peace?"

* * *

Geralt's footfalls knocked obnoxiously loudly against the polished floors of the best wood that could be ordered for import. Dwarves never believed in cutting expenses when it was about the luxurious face of their business. They believed in the face value and rarely went wrong. The smell was saturated and burning his nostrils despite it being more than a day old. The potion sharpened his senses to extremes and he felt sick to the core, mostly so due to horrible fatigue.

The papers and drawers were in disarray, but Geralt found no evidence of anyone else's tampering with them but the dwarves' own. Dijkstra had told him about the evidence Vivaldi had provided of a possible conflict between him and Yennefer who was denied a letter addressed for another person. How she tried to bribe her way to it.

What could possibly be in that letter, however, Dijkstra didn't say. When Geralt had asked, he had shrugged his significant shoulders and said, "That's beyond the matter of importance for your job."

There was blood spatter on the walls and floor, smeared trails painting a short but fiery fight with a fatal outcome for the men guarding this bank. Geralt discovered a few bits of burnt flesh stuck to drawers and a chair, but other than that, there was no trail of their existence. Like they vanished. Evaporated.

Teleported away.

"What kind of magic does the bank security block?" he had asked the spy.

"Hell if I know the whole damn list. Hypnosis, telepathy, portals, witcher signs, and spells."

It would take a long time to get rid of the bodies through a portal, the Witcher thought. Especially if they were oozing blood or shedding burnt skin. There were no signs of any body being dragged, not in any of the assaulted banks. Only the same smells, the same conditions.

"I don't know of any creature or person that could've pulled it off in one night and with such ease," he informed Dijkstra outside of the Giancardi bank, the last on his list.

"You better get an idea," Sigi said. "We can't afford to end up with none."

Geralt sighed, rubbing his forehead - a headache began to pound harder behind it. "I need rest. And afterward, I'll need to examine the security with a help of someone who understands how it works. Preferably a sorceress."

"Don't even think about it," Sigi grimaced. "It will be Phil."

"Triss."

"It's decided."

"Then you can stuff this investigation up your ass and dance around the market square trying to pin this on Yennefer while I'll holler from every corner how it's been your scheme with Philippa all along. Let's see whose version they like best."

"Sod you and your threats, Witcher, you can't win this."

Geralt stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "I'm your only chance to win this."

"Fuck you."

It was scarcely an hour before dawn when Geralt finally made his way to _Rosemary and Thyme._ It was empty and quiet. He could hear Zoltan snoring - he was the loudest upon drifting away. He was up late - judging by the smells, the cabaret had been working.

Geralt was climbing the stairs and ruffled his hair still damp from his little detour for a swim. He'd figured he couldn't endure a bath, but the urge to wash off all the things he had dealt with in the past days had been insufferable.

Yennefer was asleep in his bed; he walked on cat's feet, smiling at the sight of her. There was a wrinkle on her brow, her sleep not quite serene. He climbed under covers next to her, planting a gentle kiss to her temple before the slumber claimed him.

Yennefer had steered clear of the opening festivities after her brief visit with Triss, holing herself away in her bedroom until eventually sleep consumed her.

A lot had been on her mind, and it had taken off from where it had left off once she opened them again many hours later, feeling a familiar body behind her, one whose scent was as definable as it was comforting.

She hadn't even heard him come in.

It was still dark outside but she could smell the sunrise on the air as if everything around them was beginning to shift. Without a word, and not wanting to get into the troubles that would soon face the both of them, she reached back for his arm, circling it around her waist, reveling in the temporary security he provided while she could. The last two days had been nerve-wracking beyond measure.

* * *

The insistent knocking on their door yanked both from their sleep.

"Geralt! We need to go. Wake up! I'll wait downstairs."

They heard Triss walk away down the corridor for the stairs.

Geralt heaved a long sigh, rubbing his eyes full of sand. They burned. His head was starting the pounding again in the middle of his brain. He felt sick at the mere thought of moving.

Yennefer had meant to wait until Geralt woke up so she could talk, fill him in on what happened at the bank, but she'd fallen asleep in the embrace and Triss's voice had cut through like a splash of cold water. She was almost expecting guards to come barreling in after her one at a time. They didn't and for a time she was able to relax, to twist around and take in the exhaustion on Geralt's face.

"You're going somewhere with Triss?"

"Yes, the banks. Dijkstra seized me last night at the gates and made me examine the banks. He wants someone to hang or behead publicly, and if I don't find that someone, he's not opposed to it being you."

"He said as much when he put me in shackles yesterday," Yennefer stated, not all shaken by that news. "How's Triss meant to help?"

"I might need some consulting about their security in the banks, and Dijkstra insisted on Philippa. I guess I won that argument for someone more friendly to you."

He grunted sitting up, wincing at the ache in his neck.

"Your perfume still lingers at Vivaldi's," he added, peering at her over his shoulder. "What happened there, Yen? I got nothing thus far to exonerate you. Aside from the magic-blocks that they say weren't disarmed."

"I was there," Yennefer began and sat up, reaching for his knee to keep him from getting out of bed to quickly, her right hand shifting so she could silence any outside interference and keep anyone from listening in magically. She met his eyes. "But not only once. I returned later in the evening—after dark—to take an unlawful look at the item I'd been denied by Vimme. It was meant to be above suspicion and as quiet as possible. Unfortunately, it didn't go as intended. Ciri was with me."

"Ciri?" he frowned. His skin bristled with gooseflesh in foreboding. "What happened?"

"She slaughtered them," Yennefer said, her choice of words bitter on her tongue. "And that's not even the part that terrifies me. While it was happening, she sounded like she'd enjoyed it, like she was celebrating in seeing them burn alive and felt nothing for it when it was all over."

He was staring at her with glassy eyes, trying to comprehend it, and the revealed truth was like a slimy eel he had just pulled from a pond. It kept slipping out between his fingers, drawing blood with its teeth.

He tried to swallow, but the invisible lump in his throat didn't let him. "Why... why were you there?"

"Does that really matter right now, Geralt?" Yennefer asked, touching a hand to the side of his face. She'd been struggling herself to accept the truth but she needed for him to focus and grasp what she was saying, there wasn't much time with Triss already waiting downstairs. "What you need to know is that after it happened I made her get rid of the bodies and take them as far from Novigrad as she could. She dropped them in the ocean somewhere. The trinkets we stole, to make it look like an actual theft, didn't follow too long after. I had hoped that by painting the picture that way Vimme might assume the guards had gotten greedy, fought amongst themselves, and ran away. Apparently he doesn't believe that and Dijkstra refuses to shift his own opinion."

"Four banks," Geralt uttered with effort. "All four banks. What did you need in all of them?"

"Geralt!" Triss called from downstairs. "Hurry!"

Yennefer wanted nothing more than to squash Triss's throat. Could she stop? It had been what, five minutes? She couldn't explain any faster than she was. Geralt was on slow mode.

"I didn't need anything from the three other banks. Ciri did those without consulting with me as she thought she could make it look like some uniformed gang attack."

Something pinched inside his chest; he let out an abrupt exhale and hid his face in his hands, rubbing it. His mind refused to accept the thought of Ciri's crimes.

"What was so important that you had to break in there in the first place?" he asked wearily.

"A letter," she answered, withdrawing her hand, limiting herself to just as much honesty as she could without telling him the truth of her search for the djinn information. "A clue that relates to an influential magical book."

It didn't console him one bit, but he had no steam to question her further. Whatever the book was about he might not understand, anyway.

He made himself get up and slowly pulled his trousers on, then reached for the shirt, his face a mask of tired apathy.

He felt numb. He didn't think he'd like the alternative better.

Yennefer lay back down as he got out of bed, finally able to breathe now that he knew the truth and could help her tend to the larger issue that was Ciri.

"Is there anything you want us to do?"

"I have no idea what to do," he said, buckling his jerkin.

Yennefer slid from beneath the covers, moving to help him with the buckles on his armor, tightening anything he wasn't already doing himself. "Just do what you do best and steer things in the direction they need to go."

* * *

Ciri had woken to who she assumed was Triss calling out to Geralt. Which made no sense. Unless Geralt had made it to Novigrad during the night.

The girl reluctantly slipped out of bed and sought her clothes, pulling them on before peering out into the hallway. It was empty, but she heard several voices from downstairs. Breakfast time, she supposed.

The door to Geralt's old room was closed. Ciri stared at it intently and focused. She could feel him close by. Her lips curved in a pleased smile.

* * *

He looked at her, bewildered. "How am I supposed to solve this?"

Yennefer gave one of the buckles a jerk, touching a hand to his face, smiling slightly. It hardly surprised her that he had a problem with deceit. "You don't. It's already solved. What you have to do now is make sure that what you see and find once inside the bank—and what I've told you about the gangs—is what Dijkstra and his consorts believe. He trusts you."

"You don't understand or pretend not to," he hissed. "I got nothing, just like their secret service. Ciri's power is uniquely capable of this, and there is no possible alternative to present to Dijkstra for his scaffold."

"He doesn't know the degree of her powers. Nor should he or anyone else," Yennefer retorted sharply, removing the hand from his face to grip front of his armor as if she expected him to break away. "Don't let Triss open her mouth for anything other than advice, and if it comes to it — and there is absolutely nothing else — then you keep with what Dijkstra's decided."

"You can't be executed for things you didn't do," he argued. "I won't let you take the blame."

"If it comes down to protecting Ciri, then that's what we do. It's what we've always done." Even if he didn't quite remember that, either. She finished the last few buckles on his armour, checking to make sure it was on correctly, and then took a step back to let him finish what the remainder of his attire. "At least eat before you go. I doubt they're going to care much if you collapse out there or not and you look tired. Where's Kain?"

Geralt didn't care how, but he intended to avoid pinning it on Yennefer at any cost. "He's in Velen on a contract," he responded habitually, thinking he could use his brother's help here. He wasn't sure he could do this alone.

"Don't take all of this on yourself, Geralt. I'll help you as I can, you just need to tell me what you want. We'll keep communication open."

She showed him what she meant by projecting the conclusion into his head.

'You're not alone.'

"I want to find a way to save you," he said. "If there is anything I could blame this on - you should tell me."

"The letter, it could also be that it would attract unsavory people. Those willing to kill. I can't point a finger at anyone off the top of the bar, but it is a possibility. But it's not worth it. The best we can do, with what Ciri herself has tried to do, is guide the investigation in the direction of a Hanza. There are more than enough to choose from and none of them are enthused about polities or those within the council."

"Geralt!" Triss called again from the stairs. "The guards are here. We have to go!"

"Coming!" He turned to Yennefer with urgency. "I can't lie about a hanza - no human could've done it, and all of them know it. I need a magical criminal." He sighed and leaned to kiss her. "I'll see if I can find it. Stay put and watch Ciri. She... ehm... maybe she's upset and acting out. I have to go."

He picked his sword belt and pulled the door open.

She was surprised that he wanted to kiss her after all that had been revealed, at least in part, but she'd taken returned the gesture and followed him to the door, peering out into the hall behind him.

Ciri looked from Triss' direction to Geralt as he came out. She was leaning against her own doorway.

"You're both in a hurry."

"They've a lot to do today," Yennefer stated from over Geralt's shoulder, making a gesture for Ciri to come join her in the bedroom once they'd shared their greetings.

"Dijkstra doesn't wait," Geralt added, his heart aching at the sight of Ciri. He couldn't even make himself smile and felt the horrifying numbness again.

Triss met him on the stairs with an embrace he returned. "I'm so happy to see you," she whispered. They proceeded outside where the guards waited to take them to the bank.

"What the heck is going on here?" Zoltan demanded, strolling from his room. He glanced between Ciri and Yennefer, then turned away from the latter given her state of undress.

Ciri frowned. Geralt had barely looked at her, barely acknowledged her presence. He was not happy to see her. That much was obvious. She just did not know why.

"What's happened?" she asked Yennefer, assuming by Zoltan's equal confusion he did not know more than her.

"Was Geralt here?" Zoltan asked. "I thought I heard somethin."

"He was," Yennefer clarified, pulling Ciri in front of her to shield her nudity from Zoltan's gaze should he turn to face them. "He's been called away. They want him to start with the bank. He should be back later."

"That ploughin' Dijkstra doesn't let anyone catch a break," Zoltan spat. "Both them witchers gone?"

"The other Witcher is attending to a contract in Velen," Yennefer said, meeting Ciri's eyes since she'd missed that portion of the conversation. "My guess is it'll take him a few more days to get back to Novigrad. Probably for the best."

"If the city opens at all by then," scoffed the dwarf. "Ye two will eat? I'll see of our cook is up yet."

He went for the stairs and down.

Ciri's lips thinned. Kain was taking contracts now? That was new. It was far more likely he simply had not wanted to come.

"Yes," she called absentmindedly after Zoltan. "I could devour a horse."

Yennefer didn't bother to respond.

With everything that happened yesterday and her fluctuating appetite, she could eat, too. Had Geralt stopped to grab something as she'd suggested? He needed all the energy he could get.

She doubted it.

She took a step back into the bedroom, tugging Ciri in with her, and then gently closed the door, reactivating the spell that had broken when it opened.

"I told Geralt about us breaking into the bank so he knows what's going on."

"And he's angry," Ciri deduced, folding her arms over her chest.

"You believe he shouldn't be?"

Ciri shrugged. "I believe he has done plenty of reckless and daring things in his past. Many of them illegal. Why should he judge us so harshly?"

"Because, as you know, Dijkstra is threatening to make an example of me should they not find someone to pin the robbery on, as they don't believe our tale of the hanza. I've asked Geralt to do his best to convince them otherwise."

"I bet it's Philippa influencing Dijkstra. She has always longed to get rid of you," Ciri pointed out, perching on the unmade bed.

"Probable. I haven't quite figured out her approach yet, nor am I sure why she was the one to let me go yesterday. My guess is that it was nothing more than a demonstration of power."

"It doesn't matter. If they try to pin it on you again, we'll make them regret it," Ciri said. "Now get dressed so we can go eat."

"I don't think violence is the way to go about dealing with this incident, it'll only make us look more distrustful. The best we can do is find someone believable to blame this on."

"Frame an innocent person?" Ciri's lips quirked. "Geralt will never agree to that."

"And you would?" Yennefer asked, unhurriedly climbing into her clothes.

Ciri thought about that for a moment. "Better them than you."

That was Yennefer's opinion where Ciri was concerned, but she didn't feel as good seeing it as indifference on her daughter's face. "I'll meet you downstairs."

"Alright." Ciri got to her feet and headed for the door, closing it behind her to give Yennefer privacy to finish dressing.

There weren't many people downstairs. None of the sorceresses, nor Avallac'h. But the kitchen was staffed and she could hear Zoltan puttering around behind the bar.

"Is it too early to drink, you think?"

He cast an uncertain look at her from his accounting books. "Depends on what ye mean to drink, lassie. But who am I do stop ye?"

Fringilla made her languid descend and settled at one of the tables. Zoltan headed for the kitchen.

"I'll see about yer breakfast," he said.

Ciri would normally have felt more discomfort in the presence of one of the sorceresses, but this time as she watched Fringilla approach, there was none of that. Strange.

"Did you return with Dandelion?"

"He decided to linger," she said, eyeing Ciri with lazy interest.

Ciri rested one elbow on the bar, turning towards the sorceress. "He say why?"

"I didn't interrogate him on his reasons," she shrugged. "Perhaps he'll tell you if you ask him."

"I wouldn't have to if he was here."

Ciri dragged the nearest stool closer and took a seat.

"He seems to like it there better. Or it's someone who's there that he doesn't want to leave." Fringilla allowed a small smile.

It was strange, Ciri thought, for Dandelion to leave all responsibility of his inn to someone else. But there was no reason to linger on that thought.

She eyed the bottles behind the counter, pondering what would go best with her breakfast.

Zoltan and one of the maids emerged from the kitchen with trays. They served Fringilla and Ciri on the same table. It was fried eggs with slices of smoked bacon and a siding of grilled vegetables. A bowl of baked apples in honey was for a dessert.

Ciri thanked them and reminded Zoltan Yennefer was on her way, as well.

She dug into her meal, eyeing Fringilla with mild interest every now and then. It felt funny doing something as mundane as eating next to her.

"Triss was up early," Fringilla mused. "I presume she went with Geralt?"

"Guess so. I wasn't given a report."

"I suppose not," the sorceress smiled, forking a carrot. "Shame the other witcher didn't arrive - they would've finished with this sooner. They seem to work well together. Makes one wonder why a witcher is supposed to be a loner."

"Too few of them left, I suppose," Ciri said. "Keeping everyone in the same place would be inefficient."

"Isn't it stupid when they die one by one taking up missions alone while they could've survived working in duos?" Fringilla cut herself a slice of apple to go with bacon.

"You'll have to take that up with them. I fear I have no influence on that decision making."

"Oh, no, thank you," Fringilla laughed. "It's none of my business, just a fair thought."

Zoltan came back with another tray for Yennefer who was yet to appear, and offered Ciri a bottle of apple cider.

"Does that go for drinkin?"

"It's perfect," Ciri said, smiling up at him. "Thank you, Zoltan. You spoil me."

She pushed her plate slightly to the side to make room for the bottle.

"Have you already eaten?"

"When did I have time? Only goin to. Geralt and Triss haven't, either, far as I see." He tsked with his tongue and went for his own meal.

"No. He didn't even have time to say hello, apparently." And Ciri was slightly bitter about that.

She stabbed her vegetables with her fork, gathering several before sending them to her mouth.

"Matters of state never leave space for personal moments," Fringilla said, cutting her apple.

"Do you intend to rejoin The Lodge if Philippa decides to bring the sisterhood back together again?" Ciri asked.

"I don't suppose Nilfgaard wants me back," she shrugged. "Nor do I want to be back there. So yes, perhaps. Unless I find a better place to be."

"Was The Lodge a good place to be? Back in the day?"

"It was complicated. We were supposed to be equals, but we hardly were. And all the striving for power and influence is a rather tiring endeavor. However, having it all aids a lot in life. We all love a good life, and nothing comes without its price."

Ciri nodded, mute in thought for a while as she helped herself to a few more mouthfuls.

"Are you one of the ones who don't like Yennefer?"

Fringilla chuckled softly. "We were rivals at Sodden. My spell blinded her. I suppose it doesn't qualify as friendly. We've always been on opposite sides when it came to picking such. But personally, I don't despise her, if that's what you want to know."

"You were once close to Emhyr? Knew him, I mean?"

"One would think that. However, he's not the one to let anyone closer than necessary for giving orders."

That was disappointing. It would have been nice to have someone who could tell Ciri of Emhyr's personality and quirks.

"What is he like as a leader? Fair? Or a bastard through and through?"

Fringilla snickered. "I haven't met many people who would be a bastard through and through. Emhyr is a talented conqueror and politician, but it has little to do with a good or bad personality. He guards his personal feelings rather well for a mortal. When he's upset with how his orders were carried out - he's not shy in expressing it."

That didn't really tell Ciri anything that she didn't know, either. Though she couldn't fault Fringilla for that. If Emhyr was as impenetrable as she said, maybe there was no one who truly knew him.

"Is that why you became his prisoner?"

"He doesn't appreciate any side activity that doesn't include his orders and affairs."

"So it's not that he doesn't like sorceresses then," Ciri mused. "I have heard rumors he is quite fond of elves. That he admires them. So perhaps, when it comes to equality between the races, he is not as bad as Radovid in that regard."

"Oh, he's very fond if elves and all their culture and science. He also loves to have significant numbers of powerful mages at his disposal. But it all serves rather selfish purposes of expanding his own power and influence." She poured herself more tea. "If we have to compare to Radovid - I suppose he would be a slightly lesser evil where non-humans are concerned."

Yennefer took her time applying her makeup, twisting her curls to give them renewed bounce before making her way downstairs. She paused briefly in her descent when she saw Ciri and Fringilla locked in what seemed to be a serious conversation. Her last encounter with the rival sorceress still pricked at her.

"That's something," Ciri muttered. It didn't make her feel much better about being related to the emperor, but it was a small comfort.

She saw Yennefer on the stairs and gestured her over.

"Come eat, mother."

Yennefer moved over to the table and sat down beside Ciri. She wasn't eager to fall into whatever they were discussing.

"You look tired, Yennefer," Fringilla remarked after a quick look at the sorceress. "Is that bank matter so exhausting on you?"

Yennefer dared an irritated look at the woman. She'd just applied every coal and cream and that was the second time in as many days that Fringilla had commented on her exhaustion.

"Not at all. Just concerned about the Wild Hunt and their next plan of attack."

"Odd, considering our good old Dijkstra threat is much more prominent for now," Fringilla reacted. "I would've ordered some oysters if I were you, if you know what I mean. A very nice delicacy to allow oneself when manacles and cells loom on the horizon." She gave Yennefer a wink and stood from the table, strolling away up the stairs.

Yennefer shadowed the woman with her eyes, not bothering to reply since she hadn't stayed to listen. If she took Fringilla's advice and thought to run, then she'd look infinitely more guilty.

When they were alone, she helped herself to something from Ciri's plate.

"I think you should go help Kain with his contract."

Ciri was frowning. The comment about the oyster had gone straight over her head.

She eyed Yennefer. "Help Kain? Why?"

"He almost died recently. I'd have assumed that, with Geralt here trying to help us sort out the banking issue, you'd want to make sure he's well."

Ciri narrowed her eyes. "Stop trying to send me away, Yennefer. I don't like it."

"I would never dream of doing that, if I didn't know you'd come back," Yennefer stated, smiling softly, helping herself to a tomato off Ciri's plate. "Geralt's here with me, doing everything he can, if he wasn't, he'd be with Kain. Aren't you concerned about him?"

"No. He can take care of himself," Ciri said, sipping from her mug.

"We all have the ability to care for ourselves, we've demonstrated more times than one could count, but it doesn't mean he doesn't need the assistance. I would have thought you'd be eager to do so. Has something happened between you two?"

"He doesn't want me to come, Yennefer. If he wanted to be anywhere near me, he would have come with Geralt. Not suddenly taken on a contract as though he is a witcher again."

"He never stopped being a Witcher. They never do. Can you really expect him to overlook a village that might be in trouble?"

Ciri shrugged. "Can we talk about something else? Like what we are going to do if Geralt can't convince Dijkstra of your innocence?"

"If Geralt fails, then I'll take Fringilla's advice and run. What else is there possibly to do?"

"War," Ciri mused. "But I don't like our chances."

"Neither do I. However, there is nothing to do about it and all we can do is wait. Which is why I proposed you might desire to go off on an adventure and help your friend keep his head."

"It is not what I desire. So drop it." Ciri drained her mug and rose to her feet. "I am going out to get some air."

Yennefer sighed with a hint of frustration as Ciri got up and left, helping herself to the last tray of fried eggs, bacon, and grilled vegetables. They were a little cold but she didn't mind, contented to eat in silence.

Ciri left the inn in her wake and made for the streets. They still weren't terribly crowded, except that there appeared to be guards posted around every corner. Not many of them bothered ushering the people of Novigrad back into their homes like they had the day before, but they kept a shrewd gaze on those few who passed. Whether they were clad in fineries and escorted by guards of their own, or hauling barrels in wheelbarrows, it didn't much matter.

Ciri was annoyed. And it was all Kain's doing. Why did the image of him insist on staying in her mind? And why was it always accompanied by butterflies in her stomach and a fluttering heart?

Why wouldn't her mind protect itself from harm now it had been made clear Kain did not reciprocate Ciri's feelings? Why did the useless feelings continue to linger? How dare he take up so much space in Ciri's heart?

Yennefer's probing had not made the situation better. Ciri could not imagine opening up about this, to admit how the boy she had fought so hard for had rejected her, humiliated her. She did not even want to speak the words aloud. It would hurt more then. It would be real.

She walked with her arms folded across her chest and a deep scowl on her face. No one dared approach her, and without delay in her journey, before she knew it Ciri had reached _The_ _Kingfisher Inn_. She could already hear the music coming from inside. Someone was playing the lute, or some other string instrument Ciri had never bothered to acquaint herself with. It did not matter. The music was cheerful and welcome.

Ciri entered the inn. Just as it had been out in the streets, the establishment was not crowded. It was too early for that. Likely to have just opened. But a few people sat at the tables in front of the stage, nursing their cups of mead. Those who had someone to talk to did so quietly. No one paid Ciri any mind. She took a seat by the colored stained windows and reveled in the brief solitude.

At that moment she was just a girl like all others, come to enjoy the music.


	70. Chapter 70

_**~ WRITERS' NOTE:**_

_**RedHood001, we're happy to see your review and congratulate you from the depths of our hearts with your college progress! Keep up the good work!**_

_**Yes, Ciri is the worry of many readers, including us. But there are things we can't help her with and she will have to go through them and emerge with whatever lessons she will learn. We'll watch how she does it. Hardly Yennefer is at fault here, but we all know how fervent her wishes and desires can be and how they can scorn her and others.**_

_**Geralt and his relationship with Visenna is one thing he never knew exactly how to deal with. What is simple for Kain is nearly fantastic for Geralt who never had more than one real conversation with her before and the rest came in dream-like sequences. He's confused, scared and angry and a little bit hopeful all the same. He needs to sort it out for himself.**_

_**grotesk, we're happy to see your reviews and thank you for your dedication! **_

_**Yes, Geralt finds himself drawn to Yen as she soothes his stresses and adds something he's missing in life. It's promising, given he had to build his trust anew since the start of the story.**_

_**And Ciri has indeed a dark side that has been left behind in books but couldn't possibly be forgotten and left untouched, for she has still so many things happening to her that stirs her anger, and we all know she's always had anger issues. We shall see what happens.**_

_**MoreBonesPlz, thank you for your dedication and reviews, they make us happy! We love hearing from you.**_

_**You're right, Geralt doesn't rely on memory with Yen, but on his newly discovered sense of comfort he finds in her presence. There is some intimacy forming, and it's good for both of them.**_

_**Ciri is acting out on many things that get to her, and certainly Kain is one of the big factors. He tried to avoid it from the start but sometimes there are things we simply cannot change, and we all know the saying about good intentions paving the road to hell. We'll see how it pans out.**_

* * *

"See this crystal here? It only looks like a decoration. Another one should be somewhere there," Triss waved a hand in the direction across the vast hall of Vivaldi Bank. "It's one of the few set in specific places to form a net of magic suppression. They were grown specifically for this task with the implementation of dimeritium and some powerful spells. It's very expensive, but bankers can afford it. Especially the most successful in their field."

"And that's it?" Geralt asked. "They rely on a few crystals spiked with dimeritium?"

"It's been working well until now."

"What could have possibly ignored that security?"

"I have no idea. Can't think of any mage capable of breaking through such a fence."

"And yet they want to blame Yennefer," Geralt smirked with bitter irony, surveying the hall. He wished to have missed something important that would allow him to think of any way to sway the blame from the raven-haired sorceress, but there was nothing he hadn't noticed or checked before.

"Because of some letter? It's silly."

Geralt turned to fix her with a mute look; she blushed a little.

"Philippa told me. Yennefer and Ciri were here, and Yennefer wanted to see some letter. Such an unfortunate timing for a bank visit."

"I'm sure she wasn't the only one visiting that day."

"The only mage," Triss said in a tone close to apologetic.

"She didn't do it," Geralt stated through gritted teeth, and considered her. "You don't believe she's innocent?"

Surprise swept through Triss's face. "I don't believe some letter is a reason enough for anyone to pull off such a stunt, especially her."

"But..?" Geralt narrowed his eyes.

Triss sighed. "She didn't speak to me about it, so how would I know? She stopped trusting me, she believes I'm conspiring with Philippa against her and Ciri."

"Does she have a reason to think so?"

"Geralt! Of course not! She keeps misjudging me. All I ever want to do is help protect Ciri and ensure her best future."

"What is that best future? The throne?"

"I would never force her to choose things she doesn't want! I love her, Geralt! I took care of her. I merely want her to be safe. But you, too, know that safety doesn't always equal happiness."

He heaved a weary sigh. "It's pointless to discuss it now, Triss. Better help me solve this."

"What can I do?"

"What can I blame for all of it?"

"Oh, if only I knew-"

"It's obviously a work of magic, and some magic that was capable of breaking through the barrier."

"I don't know of anyone or anything capable of such. Do you?"

"It should be unexplained magic, something no one knows about to reject it." The Witcher pondered, then peered at Triss with his eyebrows rising slowly, surprised to have thought of it. "What about a djinn?"

Triss looked flabbergasted. "Well... It's not utterly impossible," she was reluctant to admit. "No one knows for sure the nature of their powers and what the most effective way of stopping them would be."

"Then it's perfect," he began to smile. "I'll say someone scorned by Novigrad authorities released a djinn."

"They will demand you find that someone and prove it."

"No one would find such a person - it'd be a perfect crime. How can one trace a djinn?"

"I'll support your findings," Triss said. "But I doubt they will believe you."

"For as long as it saves Yen."

"If it does. Dijkstra is whimsical. And Philippa will enlighten him how slim the odds of anyone finding a djinn are."

Frustrated, Geralt went to the window and looked at the sky gauging time.

"I have to be in Oxenfurt by sundown."

"Why?"

"Meeting Kain. He could have an idea."

"I can take you there."

He looked at her. "You sure you're well enough?"

"Oh yes," Triss smiled. "I want to help Yennefer. I'm well enough for that."

* * *

"As far as I am aware, you drink for free at _Rosemary and Thyme_. Why then, do you choose to spend time at this establishment?"

Ciri looked up to see Avallac'h standing beside her table. She had not heard him come in.

"Needed a change of scenery," she said, turning her attention back to the musician on stage.

Avallac'h sat down in the chair opposite from her. The innkeeper may not have noticed Ciri as she entered a few minutes earlier, but he'd certainly taken note of Avallac'h. She didn't blame him. Avallac'h easily stood out among his usual patrons, in height, beauty, and clothing.

The innkeeper approached the table. "What can I get ye?"

Ciri hadn't brought any money and so expected they'd be asked to leave. To her surprise, Avallac'h produced several coins from within his robes and offered them up to the innkeeper. "Wine. Preferably from Toussaint," he said. "And two glasses."

"Certainly," the innkeeper responded, hurrying back to the counter with his prize to prepare the order.

Ciri watched the elf curiously. "Since when do you carry money?"

"Since we have resided in the same world for more than a week," he said smoothly. "It comes in handy."

"Have you come to chastise me for leaving the inn?" she asked.

Avallac'h shook his head. "Not this time. Of course, I would much prefer you to stay where you are safest. But I also have my doubts Eredin will show his face in Novigrad anytime soon."

Ciri turned in her chair to face him. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Just a feeling."

That was a lie, Ciri thought. Avallac'h always had a firm reason for believing what he did. He was simply reluctant to share any information he did not have to.

"Interesting, this whole bank ordeal," he continued casually.

Ciri eyed him warily. "How so?"

"Rumors say your sorceress is the number one suspect despite her obvious inability to have used magic at any of the locations. Almost seems as though someone wants to see her arrested. Executed. Gone."

"Dijkstra seems to have his mind set, yes," Ciri said. "Possibly due to Philippa's influence. She and Yennefer have never gotten along."

Avallac'h smiled, ever so slightly. His gaze was set on the stage. "The Lodge certainly would profit from getting rid of her. Without her motherly protection, you would be much easier to claim."

Ciri folded her arms across her chest. "Are you saying Philippa is trying to frame Yennefer?"

They both fell silent as the innkeeper returned with their wine. When he left them once more, Avallac'h said: "It would not surprise me. Of course, The Lodge would not be the only ones in favor of ridding you of your protectors. The Hunt would also enjoy the downfall of the sorceress."

Ciri looked dubious now. "You think Eredin sent someone to wreck the banks?"

"We both know who did it," Avallac'h said, meeting Ciri's gaze.

Her heart skipped a beat.

_He knows. _

Avallac'h continued: "But everyone else will speculate. And if they decide Lady Yennefer is the most likely suspect, we can always help sway their decision."

* * *

The orange glow of the setting sun was still spilled over the sky above Oxenfurt when Kain arrived. He had sent Griffin away earlier and trotted through the Western Gate, his hood low over his face. The guards saw the Cat's head sword pommel and let him through. Another guard he met on the street nodded with recognition - the guard was one of the assault survivors.

The city looked well again, but people seemed quieter. The market square wasn't as crowded, and everyone hurried for the taverns to be around their fellow citizens and lose themselves in cards, wine, and entertainment.

Kain found Dandelion at _The Alchemy_ surrounded by a cheering crowd yelling ballads' names. The poet readily obliged and granted their wishes, made them spill a tear over the fall of Cintra and the emotional reunion of the Lion Cub and Witcher. His fingers never stilled on the strings, flowing into another story of the raven-haired sorceress and the famous golden dragon hunt.

Kain sipped his cider waiting for the duck breast on baked apples. It was a while before Dandelion took a break and excused himself to join him.

"Thank gods you're all right!" the troubadour greeted, plopping on the chair across from the Cat Witcher. He put his lute carefully on the chair next to him and regarded Kain with raging interest. "I expected you and Geralt to never part these days. Is he around?"

Kain sensed a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "I hoped so, for we were supposed to meet. I had business in Velen, he went ahead to meet you all."

"Business? A contract, I presume? Well, he never bothered coming here, it turns out." Dandelion gave a bitter scoff.

"He must've expected you to be back in Novigrad."

"I would've been, had it not closed." He smirked seeing Kain's eyes widen in surprise. He leaned forward over the table in confiding fashion. "All four dwarven banks were robbed last night. Guards missing, as well as some valuables. No one knows who could've done such a thing given all the protection against magic they have inside all of them. They closed the city, and all the traders and farmers who failed to get in with their produce came here instead. Some are staying at the inns, some go back home. Everyone's been talking about it, but no one knows. I've heard they blame a sorceress. According to the description, it's Yennefer. Why, though - I don't know. Not knowing is so hard on me!" He leaned back with a dramatic sigh. "But they wouldn't have let me in had I gone back."

"But Geralt got in, I presume," Kain mused.

"Dijkstra would want to have a word," the poet shrugged and grinned as two maids brought their dinner. "Finally! That strike of fame and performances are beginning to get heavier on my voice and fingers." He flexed his fingers, fisting and loosening them, and winced. "Haven't had so many performances with so little time to rest between them in a long time. Ah, I'm losing my shape! It's awful."

"Has it kept you here so long? Performances?" Kain studied him, sipping his cider, then set the cup aside to start on the duck.

"First repairs and keeping people's spirits up, then... I don't even know. I had a good time here, reminiscing and working on my memoirs. It felt right." He cut one of the apples on his plate in two. "I was going to join Geralt on horseback to return together, but you restless lot went to that swamp! Ciri told me all about it. Oh, I should've been there! To write a story, a hero ballad! Now I'll have to use my imagination. My imagination is of the highest order, I have to admit without any false modesty. But still, it's so much more vivid when I witness the adventures with my own eyes!"

"It wasn't exactly an adventure," Kain said. "The Crones were a bit too much for us to take on their own turf. They would no doubt get you to hurt Geralt. You mean a lot to him."

Dandelion didn't even try to restrain the widest conceited grin. "We share a bond," he agreed, but then his grin lost a speck of its brilliance as he peered up at the Cat Witcher from his duck on apples. "Or perhaps I should've said we _shared_. It's more and more apart that we walk our paths these days. These... recent days."

"Those paths became increasingly dangerous these days," Kain said. "He's scared to lose you to one of those dangers, Dandelion. You've been his brother for many years. Nothing would change the way he feels about you."

The poet looked up at him, eyes glistening in inspiration. "You believe so?"

Kain smiled. "I know so. Everyone close to you and Geralt know."

"Well... Of course, it's frustrating that he doesn't trust me to take care of myself, even after I've been here in the middle of an unprecedented attack... Ah, Kain, perhaps I'm a bit moody and jealous with not much reason for it, but remembering how wonderful our travels were brings unsatisfactory feelings."

"Understandable. Life changes all the time. Your times of fun and travels might yet come - if we defeat the Hunt."

Dandelion beamed. "Of course! We shall kick them out of our world, one way or the other. Even though it seems so unlikely every time they attack."

He chewed on the apple, reflecting, his brow furrowed slightly. A shadow passed through his face, he looked uncertain for a moment.

"Has Ciri been all right?" he asked finally. "With you and Geralt?"

Kain frowned, regarding him. "You mean something specific, don't you?"

Dandelion paused, battling with himself, then sighed. "To be frank, there's something bothering me about her. Our last conversation has been a bit funny... She seemed strange."

Kain took a sip of cider to wash down the meat. "Agitated and impatient? She gets like that a lot when it comes to the elves. She's had a bit too much with their chase, it's clear she can't defeat her anger. It's not ungrounded."

"Yes, yes, all that is clear enough," Dandelion nodded, pensive. "But it's more like... aggravation towards Geralt and Yennefer and everyone around her who, in her own words, hold her back. She said we're suffocating her with worry for her, we take her for a child when she's a grown person capable of violence and torture. She's very vengeful, very aggressive. More so than usual."

"It's been a long time the hunting for her - from both men and elves - took place and damaged her life. It took away the years of her childhood, innocence, her family. It's hard to make peace with it. I don't expect her to heal quickly."

"I do understand it all, believe me, I do," Dandelion waved dismissively. "But something in her scared me. She was so... relentless. So... cold."

Kain kept his face inscrutable, but inwardly he understood very well what the poet meant. "She lives with her pain every day, and tries her best," he responded. "But sometimes it gets too much, and then she rebels with her anger and she can say scary things. Best she stops at saying it instead of acting on it."

"Oh yes, no doubt," Dandelion nodded fervently. He raised his cup and smiled at Kain. "Here's to breaking this vicious circle as soon as possible to let Ciri have the life she deserves."

They drank and focused on their meals.

* * *

Ciri swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. Her mouth felt dry, so she took a sip of wine. It was good. Sweet. Avallac'h knew his wines.

"How did you–?"

"Know?" Avallac'h cut her off. He watched her closely, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

Ciri knew the gesture well. He didn't have to use words. She knew what he was saying.

_I know everything._

He would never tell her the intricate details of how he deduced his conclusions or how he sometimes knew the future. That knowledge lay with the Aen Saevherne. The Sages.

"What are you going to do with this information?" Ciri asked, putting her glass back down on the table. She was prepared for a fight.

Avallac'h studied her again. "That is not the question you want to ask," he said. "Try again."

He could be so infuriating.

Ciri inhaled sharply. "Are you going to tell anyone?"

Avallac'h was silent for a long time, both in speech and movement. When the silence broke, he reached for Ciri's hand. It was a rare move on his part. Especially these days.

"Do you truly think I would?"

Ciri wasn't sure. "If it benefited you, perhaps."

A flash of anguish reflected in the elf's eyes. "How would your execution at the hands of foolish dh'oine benefit me, Zireael? What would allow you to even think such a thing? We have been together for years. You and I. Have I not proven myself worthy of your trust? Have I not saved your life on multiple occasions while endangering my own?"

He had. Several times. In several worlds. She simply was not sure of his motivations.

Ciri looked down at her hand in his; how small and fragile she looked compared to the elf.

She felt uncomfortable and pulled away. "How can we sway Dijkstra and The Secret Service's decision?" she asked, hoping Avallac'h would allow her to get away with the sudden change in topic.

He did. But she could see it pained him to not get the answers he wanted. The answers he could not make out for himself.

"I keep telling you, Zireael. You can do anything you put your mind to. Implant thoughts and memories into the minds of others, if that is what you need. If you wish to save Yennefer from the clutches of this town, you can."

He drained his glass swiftly and stood.

"Once you unlock the secrets of your powers, little one, you will be unstoppable."

His robes swayed regally behind him as he swept from the inn, leaving Ciri with a mixture of emotions: guilt, curiosity, hunger. None of which she currently enjoyed.

* * *

After Ciri had left _Rosemary_ _and_ _Thyme_, Yennefer had strayed to Kain's room to check on the letter she'd stashed in her magic case—to make sure it hadn't been taken—and then returned to her own room for a book she could read outside until the sun went down and a chill began to set in.

She hated waiting on her fate, on expecting answers when she could very well go out and get them herself, but Yennefer knew she was being watched and there wasn't anything she could do about that except impede the investigation and add to the fault. She had to trust that, even though she wasn't remembered by Geralt fully, she could rely on him to do everything he could to protect her.

Whatever that was.

When the sun had faded, she'd headed inside and seated herself at an unoccupied table, her hands wrapped around a cup of wine, her nails drumming at the cover of her book.

Ciri had yet to make her return and Yennefer tried her utmost not to worry too much about it.

She'd been deep in thought when she saw Avallac'h enter the inn. Zoltan had mentioned he'd left, hadn't he? Why was he back now?

The elf pulled his hood off upon entering and strolled languidly across the hall, his eyes flicking over Yennefer. The smallest of smiles touched the corners of his mouth.

"Surprising to see you wait for your fate to resolve," he remarked, stopping his progress next to her table. "You're not the one to leave it all in other hands and out of your own."

Yennefer wondered if he'd read her mind, if he had, she hadn't felt the intrusion.

"Not customarily. Unfortunately, I don't have much choice. Heard anything new?"

"There are always choices," he said. "Not all of them influence the outcome, however."

"Were you this evasive when it came to answering simple questions while traveling with Ciri?"

Yennefer could only imagine how frustrated Ciri must have been in the years she'd been stuck with him as she'd never been shy of asking questions.

He allowed a brief smile, very faint, and barely noticeable. "You humans rarely have the patience to read between the lines. Given how short your lives are, it's understandable. You need to rush through it, whereas races like mine are in no hurry. But you - your powers freed you from such limitations, and yet you continue to live with them. Remarkable."

"What's life without the charms of mortality? With all the time you've spent on the run with Ciri over the last few years, I'd have assumed that by now you'd have come to appreciate at least some of what humanity has to offer."

"And what would that be, in your opinion?" he raised his eyebrows.

"The unpredictability and raw emotions," Yennefer mused.

"I'm Aen Saevherne. Nothing is unpredictable for my kind."

Yennefer scoffed lightly.

"You're telling me that Ciri has never done anything that has surprised you?"

"I'm not easily surprised. What about you, Lady Sorceress? Has Zireael surprised you recently?"

Yennefer narrowed her eyes.

"More than I would have anticipated."

He hemmed. "She's Elder Blood. She is beyond any of your expectations. The question is how you will cope."

"That's still to be seen," Yennefer said. She wouldn't know how she'd be coping until she actually knew the outcome of tonight and what Geralt had managed to accomplish.

"There are various possibilities," he mused. "Some more prominent than others."

"Good or bad?"

"It's strictly subjective. Depends on many factors." He studied her with mild interest.

"Enlighten me," Yennefer said, studying his stony features. He gave nothing of his thoughts away.

He seemed amused. "Some years ago I met Geralt, and he wanted the same thing - to know whether he could find Zireael. And when I told him that his actions would do nothing to aid him in this quest, he preferred to ignore it. He asked if he would find her in the end, and I told him he would, but only to lose her again. He didn't care for it." He considered her. "Would you care if I told you she couldn't be changed? That what you see in her now - what frightens you so much - has been a part of her long before this day?"

"I don't believe that," Yennefer said and got to her feet. "If you can look at Ciri presently, and believe her to be the same person you've come to know after all these years of travel together – with the same heart – then you don't know her at all."

Avallac'h might not understand the full extent of what she was referring to, but it didn't matter to Yennefer because she wasn't prepared to elaborate or divulge more than he already thought he knew.

"Just as one would expect from humans," he murmured, heading for the stairs.

Yennefer snatched up her book to still her trembling hand, to keep her mind from spiraling to the truth of what Avallac'h might have predicted. What if Ciri was, in fact, this person who killed multiple men doing their duty for no more than a disguise with chilling indifference? What if it wasn't as dismissible as Yennefer believed or jotted down to some kind of curse? Could she accept that?

Yennefer exhaled, knowing that if it came down to it, that's exactly what she'd do.

* * *

Ciri was in a hurry to get back to _Rosemary_ _and_ _Thyme_. Avallac'h's words stuck with her, had probed her curiosity. And she could no longer wait. She wanted to know the results of the investigation. And she wanted to know now.

Once outside, the girl teleported to the third floor, right outside the room inhabited by Triss. She pressed her ear to the door, listened for sounds of movement from inside. But it was quiet. And as she entered – empty.

In her conversations with Zoltan, the dwarf had more or less implied Philippa no longer resided at the inn. Ciri supposed it had never been up to the sorceress' standards. But he did not know where she was keeping herself these days. Ciri briefly considered Dijkstra and his abode, wherever that might be. But it was a theory that quickly fell apart. Philippa was the type of woman who would rather have a residence of her own, one not ruled and constantly watched by a man. It was much more likely she had procured something to suit those needs.

Ciri assumed the other sorceresses knew her location, but doubted they'd be very forthcoming with that information unless specifically told to be so. No matter their bravery and strength, they all had a bit of fear of Philippa. It was easy to tell. She was the dominant party of their group. Even now they were no longer officially a guild.

Inside, Ciri rummaged through every book and piece of paper, searched beneath the mattress and behind pillows, attempting to find some clue as to where Philippa was keeping herself. Surely there had to be something. A slip of paper with an address or something of the sort.

But once she had looked everywhere and found nothing, Ciri began to doubt.

They are witches, her mind whispered. Of course, they do not conceal by normal means.

She sighed and thought. And as much as she loathed it, Kain's face sprung to mind. What would he have done in Ciri's situation? How would he seek out the information he needed?

He would use magic.

Ciri closed her eyes and focused, imagining her power – her very essence – to spread through the room until every insignificant corner and possible hiding place was covered. The word that escaped her was not her mother tongue, but rather that of the elves. Elder Speech.

"Reveal."

A click sounded somewhere to her right and when Ciri opened her eyes, she found that one of the paintings on the wall, the one depicting a bowl of fruit, had swung away to reveal a compartment behind it.

Clever.

She hurried over and peered inside. The only object in the compartment was a feather. She picked it up and examined it carefully. If she was not mistaken, it belonged to a snowy owl.

Thank you, Vesemir, Ciri thought, for it was, in fact, he who had taught her to make such distinctions.

As she held the feather in her hand, she once more applied a tactic Kain would have urged her to do, letting her magic soak the object and absorb all information she could gather from Philippa's lost talisman. In her mind's eye, Ciri saw cobblestone streets and tall houses. Her view narrowed in on one in particular. Dark bricks and a red roof-shingles. A tree in bloom on its left side. A small balcony on the second floor. A beautiful woman with braids and eyes that seemed just a little off.

"Got you," Ciri said with a satisfied smile.

She replaced the feather where she had found it and pushed the painting back into place before she left. A clear purpose in mind.

* * *

"Triss! I'm so glad to see you so well!" Shani got up from the table to hug the sorceress. Triss was smiling brilliantly.

"Triss! Geralt! About time!" Dandelion refrained from standing - their meals, a couple of desserts, and two bottles of Est Est of Toussaint made his legs a bit unsteady. Shani had joined him and Kain shortly after they settled for dinner, and the dinner had turned into a very nice jolly of three. By the time Triss and Geralt arrived, the troubadour's table was awaiting its third bottle and two more fruit sorbets.

"I see you're not going to beds anytime soon," Geralt observed, settling down.

"We should," Shani said. She was a tad tipsy, her eyes glistened, her cheeks held a nice, subtle blush that added to her loveliness. "But it's been too good."

"Oh yes!" Dandelion grinned. "Shame would be to pass on a good time after such a trying one, wouldn't you agree, my friend Geralt?"

"I certainly see your point, Dandelion." The Witcher met Kain's gaze; the latter was amused, sipping water. Geralt thanked the maid who brought more cups and another bottle, and opened it, pouring another round. "Here's to more such nice times," he raised his cup, his companions mimicked and drank.

Triss and Shani fell into some topic that held them both very engaged, and Dandelion had to grant the newly arrived patrons a couple of ballads everyone knew and loved and sang along to.

Kain and Geralt snuck out for a bit of fresh air. Geralt told him about the bank findings and his ordeal. Kain's frown deepened as he listened, he was shaken and could barely hide it from his brother's keen eye.

"Just now Dandelion told me she was telling him strange things," Kain shared. "That she's grown and capable of fighting for herself and wouldn't hold back."

"What do you make of it, though?" Geralt asked. "What happened to her?"

"Oh, Geralt, had I known..." Kain looked repentant and pained. "I shouldn't have pushed her away."

"Stop it, it's not your fault."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Geralt exhaled impatiently. "She killed the Riders before you had that talk. She took out the bank guards because they were a threat to Yennefer and her."

Kain winced and shook his head, "We'll have to deal with this later. Right now you need a solution."

Geralt's face darkened. "I do. Think djinn would suffice?"

"Their magic is chaotic and unpredictable, and in theory, it could be possible for a djinn to create that mayhem. But would Philippa accept it? She probably knows it's not a djinn."

Geralt scoffed, irked by the thought. "Had she known, why hiring me to investigate?"

"Getting rid of Yennefer is beneficial to her and the Lodge. Especially if it looks like they had nothing to do with it and tried to help exonerate her. So they get to console Ciri and pull her to their side."

"Hmm. I'm not helping with it. But djinn was my only option."

"Boys!" Triss emerged from the tavern. "Are you coming back?"

"Yes, another moment," Geralt nodded. She observed them with a suspicious curiosity and was reluctant to leave, but did.

"There might be another option," Kain said, gaining Geralt's attention. "You need to speak to someone who knows more about strange magic than we do."

Geralt cursed quietly.

They went back inside where Dandelion and the two women were laughing over something.

* * *

It took Ciri no more than thirty minutes to locate Philippa's lodgings, allowing her earlier visions to guide her.

It was a nice building not too far from St. Gregory's bridge, a place where most of the residents had their pockets lined with money and a finer status than those who lived down south in the city.

With the streets mostly empty, Ciri didn't hesitate to teleport upstairs onto the balcony. The doors were open, the delicate curtains within gently swaying to the breeze.

A bedroom lay beyond. One illuminated dimly with a dozen candles. It was dark and gloomy, but in that luxurious sense sorceresses seemed to enjoy. Velvet and silk. Exquisite furniture and art.

Atop the ornately carved bed were two women. One of them, the brunette hovering over a redhead, was clearly Philippa. The other, Ciri had no knowledge of. She quickly became introduced to the redhead's naked body, however, as she was splayed out in all her nude glory beneath Philippa's skilled hands.

The sorceress herself was still fully dressed.

Ciri watched them, saying nothing. It took almost a full twenty seconds before Philippa turned in her direction.

"I see your witcher failed to teach you manners," Philippa commented as her gaze landed on Ciri in the doorway. "Don't you knock?"

She didn't truly seem offended. In fact, she appeared quite amused.

The woman beneath Philippa gasped and quickly moved to cover herself with her discarded clothing, cheeks flushing with shame.

"Get out," Ciri told her.

Philippa nodded, gesturing for the woman to heed Ciri's command. She scrambled off the bed, dressing as she went, her eyes wide with confusion and embarrassment as she rushed from the room.

Philippa moved to sit on the foot of the bed, arms propped behind her as she watched Ciri.

Ciri stepped inside, eyeing the bedroom with mild curiosity. There was no doubt whoever had paid for the apartment had a great amount of coin to spare.

"You're fucking him again," Ciri said.

A coy smile made Philippa's lips curve ever so slightly. "Turns out Dijkstra still has some use." She admired the pretty room with a pleased sigh before turning more somber. "Never for free, though. There is always a price. You should remember that, Cirilla."

Ciri wasn't sure what that meant and did not feel like asking. She had not come here for a simple chat.

Philippa knew that, too. "What can I do for you?" the sorceress asked.

"The banks," Ciri began, turning to face the woman. "You're inclined to blame Yennefer."

"It is not what I want," Philippa said, her tone sincere, even if her eyes said something entirely different. "But unfortunately, evidence and suspicions are stacking up against her."

She stood, smoothing the skirt of her dress.

"But you shouldn't worry, Ciri. That is why Geralt has come. To prove her innocence."

"And if he fails?" Ciri asked. "What then?"

Philippa was silent for a moment, contemplating. "We will do everything in our power to save her. She may not be one of us anymore but I know how much she means to you."

Lies. All lies. Did Philippa truly think Ciri that stupid? That naive?

She wished then she was able to do what Avallac'h had suggested.

Implant memories and thoughts. Change what already lay within the mind.

But she didn't. Would not even know how to start. There was only one logical thing to do, one that had burned with desire inside Ciri ever since she'd caught Philippa's scent.

She was on the sorceress in a split second, the momentum of her power easily knocking Philippa back onto the bed. Ciri straddled Philippa's thighs, one hand wrapping around her slender throat.

"I want to make something very clear," Ciri hissed in a dangerous tone, tightening her hold for emphasis. "If anyone in my family comes to harm because of your political ploys, if Yennefer is placed upon that scaffold, whether or not it was you or someone else entirely who gave the order, I will destroy you, Philippa."

Philippa stared up at Ciri with what could only be described as surprise, trepidation, and a spiking curiosity. Ciri could feel the rapid rhythm of her pulse against the palm of her hand. But the sorceress did not speak, nor try to fight. She simply watched Ciri as though she was the most interesting thing the enchantress had seen all day.

"I will pick you all apart – you, Fringilla, Margarita, and anyone else who still wants to be associated with you at that point," Ciri continued, a jolt of arousal hitting between her thighs as she continued to press Philippa down into the mattress.

She unsheathed her dagger with her free hand and brought the tip perilously close to Philippa's right eye. "I will pluck those pretty new eyes of yours from their sockets and feed them to your lover."

Philippa's hand lifted to wrap around Ciri's wrist, gently but insistently, and Ciri flinched at the contact as if it had doused her with a bucket of cold water.

She pushed off the sorceress with a scowl, slipped her dagger back in its holster. "Fix this, Philippa," she uttered before vanishing into thin air.

Philippa sat up slowly and absentmindedly rubbed her throat, a look of astonishment creasing her beautiful face.


	71. Chapter 71

Geralt closed the door upon entering the room, and considered the elf before him. Avallac'h's facial expressions were often unreadable, but something ironic in the way the Sage was observing him made the Witcher think he had been expected.

"You know why I'm here?" he asked.

The elf gave an imperceptible shrug. "The only reason you and I ever have to see each other hasn't changed. How do you assume I can help you this time?"

"The banks. What do I tell them about what's done it?"

"What do you wish to tell?"

"What do you know about djinns?"

"Enough to see it's rather ludicrous. Any other ideas?"

Geralt folded his arms, watching him with aggravation. "I wouldn't be here if I had any."

"I'm aware." He peered at the Witcher with a wistful amusement. "Your goal audience is the citizens, and none of them is familiar with what exactly a djinn is. There is another enemy, however, that's no less mysterious but known to them all since quite recently."

Geralt watched him, scowling. "Are you jesting?"

"Do I ever?"

Geralt scowled deeper, and gave it some thought. The Sage waited serenely.

"Dimeritium bombs disrupt the Hunt's portals," the Witcher stated eventually. "So how could they have bypassed the banks' security?"

"The effect of dimeritium on Aen Elle magic is unavowed. Portals are a means to connect our world and yours, it's less stable than the rest of the craft they use here to kill and subdue."

Geralt frowned. "How does it help me now, exactly?"

The Sage sneered. "Can your straightforward mind get a little bit more creative when the circumstances call for it? Think, Gwynbleidd. If the portal magic is less stable, it's where it went wrong, isn't it right?"

"Hmm."

"Gwynbleidd?"

Geralt turned to him from the door, raising his eyebrows - his hand was on the handle and he was about to leave.

"Keep an eye on Zireael. She will probably create more issues for the people around her."

"You know what's wrong with her?"

The Sage smiled condescendingly. "Remember what I told you when we first met? You asked me if you'd find her. And, for now, you have."

Geralt's face darkened, he went out of the room.

* * *

"You two getting along now?" Ciri asked as she saw Geralt exit Avallac'h's room. She was in the progress of entering her own.

A chill traveled down his spine at the sight of her, and he hated it. "I wouldn't call it that. I was surprised to see him around, is all. I thought he was on Skellige."

"Guess he got lonely," Ciri mused. "How goes the investigation?"

"Slower than everyone would like."

"Dijkstra still set on blaming Yennefer?"

Ciri leaned back against the wall, arms folded across her chest. Geralt was yet to hug her. To touch her, even. She felt a distinct pang of sorrow at that. She wasn't sure what had happened to make him so cold. Was it simply that he was angry about Ciri and Yennefer's bank stunt?

Geralt shrugged. "Dijkstra wants any possible face to blame it on as soon as possible. I don't suppose he is specifically set on it being Yen's." He studied her. "What do you think I should do?"

"The Hunt," she said after a moment. "They've already attempted to alienate me once. Now they've moved on to my allies."

"The Hunt, eh?" Geralt considered her with interest and felt an inward pang in his heart. "A rather crafty plan they must've cooked. Knowing exactly how to set you up."

Ciri tilted her head to the side, assessing him. "You know what happened, Geralt. Yennefer told you. But you are looking for a way to twist the truth in our favor, are you not?"

"Indeed." The word tasted bitter in his mouth. "But I seek for truth that would be believed."

"And what have you come up with so far?" She let her gaze fall to the floor. "Are you going to give me to them?"

"You know I wouldn't do it. I'd rather tell them it was me."

"You have no motive," she said with a crooked smile.

Geralt's mouth twitched in a faint sneer. "I'm sure I can think of a few."

"I'd destroy this wretched world before I'd let you go to your death, Witcher," Ciri said, her face entirely serious. "You and Yennefer both."

"I thought we wanted to save this world. What changed, Ciri?"

"We do. But not at the cost of your lives."

"This world is worth more than our lives."

"This world is awful. Filled with cruelty and suffering," Ciri said. "It's worth nothing to me if you aren't here."

Geralt sighed, approaching to lean against the opposite wall face to face with her. "Every world has its cruelty. It's not for us to judge, for when we start to judge, it fogs our mind and robs it of clarity. Everyone has the power to try and make the world a better place. Especially you, with all that's gifted to you."

"You still believe that?" she asked solemnly. "Even now you have lost your faith in me?"

His breath hitched deep in his chest and his heart shrank painfully. He stepped to her, taking her face in his hands. "I'll never lose my faith in you, Ciri. Never. But it seems you have lost yours in me. It's as though you're rebelling against me."

She reveled in his touch, but still frowned. She didn't understand.

"Why? What have I done?"

"You killed a lot of people who did nothing but their designated work. It wasn't their fault. They weren't supposed to die because Yennefer needed some letter. Witchers don't kill people. They kill monsters, remember?"

"They were monsters standing in the way of my family reuniting," Ciri said, reaching for Geralt's face to cup his cheek, to try and make him understand. "They were in my way."

It petrified him. The way she looked at him, the certainty he wasn't able to sway.

"Ciri," he tried, his voice a little husky, "they just happened there. They weren't in your way. They were doing their work. _You_ were in theirs - you weren't supposed to be there in the first place."

Ciri didn't comprehend a word he'd said. She couldn't manage to have it make sense.

"They were just men, Geralt. They meant nothing. Nothing compared to you and Yennefer. Don't you see that?"

Geralt nearly groaned. "They were people, Ciri. With lives. With children. This world is full of people. They mean everything to those who love them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but they are not _mine_," she pointed out, more bewildered than ever.

It took all of him not to change in his face. He squelched the tremor of terror in his gut and battled the weakness in his knees as he slowly stepped back from her. "You need to rest," he said. "Have a good night, Ciri."

Ciri, however, did not disguise her pain as Geralt stepped away from her. He wasn't with her anymore. Not in spirit. She could feel it.

"Why are you being like this?" she implored, but didn't follow.

He frowned, "Like what?"

"You look at me as though I am a stranger!" Ciri exclaimed, tears gathering in her eyes. "You think I don't notice, but I do."

Despite the shock and pain pulsating in his heart, Geralt couldn't bear to see hers. He pulled her into his arms. "Forgive me, Ciri. I've a lot on my mind and lack sleep."

A small weight seemed to lift off Ciri's shoulders when Geralt put his arms around her, and suddenly she could breathe again.

She pressed her face against his chest, letting his shirt dry her tears. She needed this. She needed him to love her. Because without it... who was she? What was she?

"Are you going out again?" she whispered.

"No." He held her, going numb. He needed to be numb to get through it. He would think about it later. "I'll try to sleep."

She swallowed and reluctantly pulled away, swiping at her eyes. "Yes, you should. You look tired."

He looked at her warmly. It was impossible to perceive how come his little witcher girl was killing people simply because she could.

"Unless you want to have a drink? And talk? Is there anything bothering you?"

She smiled a little, feeling almost silly for having cried now.

"No, it's alright. I just want people to stop coming for Yennefer. They want to see her gone and none of the reasons have anything to do with banks."

"People have gone missing, and their families want answers," he said, watching her closely. "Just like you would in their place."

"I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about The Secret Service. Ebert, and Dijkstra, and Philippa."

"Nothing will happen to Yennefer. She didn't do it. Both Philippa and Dijkstra know it."

"That's my point; they don't care," Ciri said. "Just be aware."

"I won't let anything happen to her. Or you."

"And we won't let anything happen to you," Ciri assured him with a soft smile. "Go. Rest."

He smiled back, "You too."

* * *

Yennefer hadn't been able to do much while she waited on Geralt's return, and Ciri's, keeping an ear for activity in the inn, probing every now and then with her power for their energy.

When it found fruition, she patiently waited on one or both of them to find her. When neither came, she focused on the outside, checking on them, eavesdropping on part of the conversation.

When the door opened and Geralt stepped inside, she was already on her feet, striding over him to help him out of his armour.

"Dare I say you're back to actually make use of your bed and not prepare me for worst news?"

Geralt looked at her with exhausted anguish. "Nothing could've prepared me, but things she says... How she says them, Yen... I don't know what to do." He ran both hands through his hair. "I don't know what to do."

"Nor do I," Yennefer answered softly. She'd been prepared to downplay what she heard of their conversation, but like him, she'd been as concerned about Ciri's view. Not because she particularly cared about the people involved, but because it was a vast difference of who Ciri was inside.

Yennefer plucked at the buckles she'd tightened that very morning, loosening them, pushing them from around his waist before helping him out of it and sliding the jerkin onto a chair for the night.

"At least you managed to talk and not have her run away. I, on the other hand, appear to be saying the wrong thing every second of every day. Did something happen between Ciri and Kain?"

He sat down on a chair, propping his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor between his feet.

"I wasn't present for anything to happen," he said. "If Kain's account is to go by, he told her he couldn't be with her as she wanted. She was hurt, and she left."

"When did that conversation unfold?" Yennefer asked. The last time she knew of them talking was at the temple. Had that been the reason Ciri wanted so desperately to leave?

"Before we reached Velen, a few days ago."

Yennefer frowned. "Ciri didn't mention she'd seen you. Explains why she didn't care for any of my requests to look in on you both and why she kept refusing my suggestions to help Kain with his contract," she explained before he could bother to ask her logic. "I hoped that being in his company might keep her a bit more grounded. Do you believe a broken heart could be the cause for such a vast shift in her?"

Geralt shot her a reprimanding look. "It's not his fault, he has his reasons. She killed the Riders before they talked. And the banks... She wouldn't be there if not for the circumstance. She wouldn't deliberately kill people to take her hurt out on them. It's not Ciri."

"I never said it was his fault," Yennefer countered. To be fair, very briefly, she had thought Kain guilty. A broken heart could be tricky. "Do you think it could be her magic? The Elder Blood? Avallac'h tried to convince me earlier that maybe this is who she was – has been – all the time. It worries me because he's the one that's spent two years with her. But I also know that she hasn't been as dependent on him lately and that he might just be trying to throw some doubts or changes around to create friction."

"He can't know her as well as he boasts," Geralt said, bitter. "I won't believe it's who she is. Whatever shifted her in the head, we will figure it out. Whatever it takes, I have to figure it out. I won't lose her again." He peered at her pleadingly. "I can't lose her again."

"We won't. I won't let it happen," Yennefer vowed, striding over to Geralt, taking his face into her hands, observing the dark circles beneath his eyes. He'd had a long night the day before and even longer day today. She wanted to probe about the investigation, but knew, if there was anything she desperately needed to know, he'd have told her. She had to trust that. "How about I make up a bath for you, give you a massage to free up your tense muscles and help you in beneath the covers. I trust our troubles and desire to talk about them will still be here come the morning."

He felt a lump in his throat it was hard to swallow, and leaned into her, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. It didn't calm him right away, but something loosened slightly in his chest.

Her heart picked up pace at the intimacy of his hold, at the relief she could feel coming off of him, heartened and struck that it was without their usual cause of distracting desire.

She let him hold her as long as he needed—finding that she, too, had been yearning for the comfort—and once he'd had enough, tended to both him and the bath as promised before curling up beside him in their shared bed for the night.

* * *

Kain left Onyx to graze in the backyard and went to the door. Fealinn was waiting in her doorway. She embraced him.

"You were waiting?" he asked, following her inside.

"I felt you'd come."

She poured them herbal tea and listened to him closely without interrupting. Her beautiful face turned preoccupied and sympathetic. When he finished, she pondered for a bit, a small wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows.

"It's not an easy judgement to make," she admitted eventually. "I've only had one session with her, and it's been a while back. Something could've changed in her since then."

Kain drank his tea in silence, eyeing her expectantly.

"It's not new, though," she continued. "She's had something dark harbored within her when we met. It's rooted in her past, her turbulent journey through childhood and adolescence. She's never worked through it, never let it go."

"She tried to," he said quietly, staring in his cup. "I saw her attempt it, she truly wanted to let it go. When we healed her scars."

"She hasn't healed all scars. It's not easy, Cath. With everything that's happened to her - she never told or showed me, but that tangled ball of hate, pain, despair and rage - it couldn't be buried for long. It was bound to come out like bubbling milk escaping its pot. Her emotions are always too close to surface. A mere spark is enough for her flames to burst."

"I shouldn't have poured oil on it."

She reached for his hand, squeezed it; her voice was soft. "What was the alternative?"

He shrugged helplessly, shook his head. "She asks for what I cannot give."

"Cannot or will not?"

He set his jaw, staring into his cup.

"What are you afraid of, Cath?"

He downed his tea, set the cup on the table, and rubbed his face with a shaky sigh. "I don't know. Every time she wants to get closer, it scares me. As though I've had a dozen stories that ended in heartbreak. But... it somehow feels like that. That I would lose her and myself. I can't explain it. And I thought one day there would come a moment of clarity when I'd know. But it never came. And I hurt her..."

She stroked his face, gentle and tentative, pulling his chin to meet his hazel eyes.

"You're not wrong to want to understand yourself, Cath. You'll find that clarity in its time. Everything has its time, and no one comes late to their date with destiny."

He chuckled softly. She smiled and got up, pulled him after her.

"Come. Let me help you a little. You need it."

He did, and he followed her. He closed his eyes and let the fragrance of her oil and flickering of her candles take him away for a while, ease his mind and loosen his tense muscles.

He slept.

When he opened his eyes, his mind and body didn't feel as heavy, anymore.

"How long was I out?" He rubbed his eyes, sitting up, and began to dress.

"Twenty minutes or so," she said. "You look better. Your night shall be restful."

She walked him out and they embraced. Their lips brushed in a brief, gentle kiss.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Always," she said, and nudged him, smiling.

He returned the smile, his teeth gleamed in the moonlight; he clicked his tongue at Onyx that came trotting from behind the hut. Kain hopped on and sent the stallion into a light gallop to the other shore for a quick swim.

Ciri stepped back into the shadows of the treeline, watching Kain and Onyx from a distance as they rushed by.

She'd intended to seek out Fealinn for a repeat of her earlier session. The elf had made her feel so calm and relaxed, like she could let go of some of her anger and focus her attention elsewhere.

That would have been lovely tonight as well. Ciri wasn't exactly sure what was happening, but she did sense that something was different. She felt everything so intensely these days, as though her nerves were laid unprotected and bare at all times. It was exhausting.

But all plans of visiting Fealinn had died the moment Ciri saw Kain exit the hut.

Was that what _taking on a contract_ meant? Had he been staying with Fealinn this whole time in his quest to avoid Ciri? Was Fealinn the reason Kain did not want to be with Ciri in the first place?

Tears stung her eyes again and she quickly wiped them away. Even now when she was entirely alone, she did not want to let them escape. It made her feel weak. Weaker. Kain had already laid the foundation for that.

Part of her hated him. Part of her wished he had never come into her life at all.

But another, a more vivid part laying close to the surface, still craved Kain's closeness. And that made Ciri hate herself as well. What a pathetic girl she was.

She spent some time among the trees, trying to rule down her emotions, to compose herself as best she could. Then she followed him. It wasn't hard. She still felt his presence like a magnet.

She found him in the water, his back to her as he washed and swam.

Ciri remained on shore this time, arms folded across her chest.

"The city is locked down. How do you expect to get inside with your horse in tow?"

Unless he hadn't planned to go there at all. Perhaps he was intending to go back to Fealinn.

Her voice startled him - he was deep in thought and paid too little attention to his surroundings.

He turned around and observed her figure on the shore. He could tell she was angry. There were dark specks in her aura tainted red.

"I'm a witcher," he reminded. "They'll let me in."

"You're not Geralt," she commented. Geralt was who they'd wanted to aid in the investigation. "I can take you back to the inn. Onyx, too. Unless you're not going?"

"I am going, but I counted on using my feet." He splashed water in his face, sweeping the bangs off it. "Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ciri had initially intended to ask him about Fealinn from the start, but now she was beginning to doubt the intelligence of that plan. If Kain wanted her to know, he would tell her himself.

He opted for honesty: "You look agitated. What is the reason?"

"Your eyes deceive you," Ciri said with a shrug. "I am fine. How was your contract?"

"Resolved. Another one needs more investigation, which can wait." He walked toward her, shaking water from his hair.

Ciri didn't turn away like she normally would. She didn't feel the need to give him privacy. She didn't feel like being the bashful and blushing girl he had come to know.

"Are you aiding Geralt in the investigation, then?"

"I believe he's figured it out himself. But I'll aid to get it to the finish, yes." He ruffled his hair to dry and reached for his trousers, pulling them on.

"I'm sure you will."

Ciri turned and started back for the trees where she could travel back to the inn without being spotted by onlookers.

If Kain did not want her help, she would not force it upon him.

"You won't walk with me?" he asked her turned back, putting on his jerkin.

"They won't let me in through the gate. Dijkstra ordered me to stay within city limits."

"They'll let you in." He started toward the city with Onyx in tow.

She turned to watch him over her shoulder. "Because you will it so?"

"I was going to go with convincing." He smiled at her, not slowing his pace.

She hesitated. And eventually followed. She was curious to see how he was going to pull this off.

There were five guards at the Oxenfurt gate. Two of them tried to shove away two travelling merchants, one of which was significantly drunk and barely standing. Three others focused on Ciri and Kain.

"The city's closed," one of them said.

"I'm a witcher, White Cat, working with Geralt of Rivia," Kain said and nodded toward Ciri. "And this is one of the famed Lodge members."

The guards sneered.

"Don't they travel on their brooms? Nah, Witcher. You can pass, but your little lover maid will have to go back to her village or wherever you pulled her from."

"Splendid," Kain smiled. "And I shall tell Philippa Eilhart that her closest friend Margarita Laux-Antille was punished for her innocent whim to have a stroll with a Witcher after the important task we had to perform for the investigation."

The smiles drained from the guards' faces. One of them brought his torch closer to take a better look at Ciri. Kain leaned to him, touching his hand wrapped around the torch.

"I don't advise looking into her eyes," he suggested.

The guard blinked and stepped away. "You can pass, Lady. Witcher." The rest mimicked his move.

Kain and Ciri went, Onyx on their heel.

"What would you have done if they knew who Margarita is?" Ciri asked quietly as they strolled in the direction of the inn. "Knocked them out?"

"No. I'd convince them of seeing Margarita in you."

"How?"

"Average people are rather susceptible to convincing," he explained. "There are tricks to strengthen the effect - a touch, looking in the eye being two of such. And if it's someone difficult, magic helps - to some extent. Someone like you wouldn't fall for it unless you allow it."

Ciri would have to try it for herself sometime soon. According to Avallac'h, she was more than capable.

"Someone like me?"

"You're special, but even if we dismiss the nature of your magic, your mind is rather strong on its own, especially when it's focused. It's hard to trick you."

Is it, she wondered. He'd certainly managed.

"Right," she said, pausing in her stride for as long as it took for Onyx to be deposited into the care of the stable boy at _Rosemary and Thyme_, before heading for the entrance to the inn.

"Thank you for my admission ticket."

He watched her with a deceivingly open face and hidden doubts that crawled in his gut like worms.

"No need for thanks," he said, following her inside.

Ciri headed straight for the bar. She was not tired. Nor did she truly have a place to sleep now Kain had returned to claim his old room. He didn't need to know that. She didn't want him to.

Instead, she found herself an empty tankard and poured herself some of Zoltan's ale.

He lingered, observing her with growing unease. Something was definitely wrong, and some of it was due to their last short conversation, but there had to be something else. He couldn't put a finger on it.

"It's rather late," he remarked. "You're not going to bed?"

"Not yet," she responded, taking a seat at the counter. "I'm thirsty."

And she wasn't sure she'd manage to sleep, anyway, now he was here. Too many thoughts racing through her mind.

He nodded and proceeded for the stairs, his heart felt heavy in his chest. He didn't want to stay in the room, he realized when he entered it and cast a look at the bed. He yearned to go to Griffin.

He shrugged off his jerkin and took off his shirt to hang them on the back of a chair in front of the fireplace he had lit. And then he saw Ciri's sword. It was standing against the wall.

He sighed. And put in his jerkin back, took the shirt, and went back downstairs.

"I'll spend the night with Griffin," he told Ciri. "You can return to the room."

Ciri looked up from her drink, brow furrowed in confusion. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "You're staying there now, so you can go back. It's fine."

She shook her head. "You need sleep more than me. After your contract, and all. I'll be fine."

"I'll get my sleep in Griffin's cave. It's all right. Truly." He gave her a smile and went for the door.

"Griffin's cave," Ciri mused and drank. "Is that what we're calling Fealinn's bed now?"

He turned around, peering at her in shock. "Of course not. Why are you saying that?"

"I saw you with her," Ciri said, eyes on her tankard. "It's where you truly were, right? You haven't taken on contracts for ages. It was strange that you suddenly chose to now.

"Is she the reason you can't be with me? If so, you should have told me from the start. It would have made sense. Instead, I've been running around consumed with questions of what is wrong with me. Of what I have done wrong." She drank again. "You should have told me."

A wave of heat traveled through him as if her words were washing over him with boiling blame and hurt. He tossed the damp shirt on one of the chairs on his way to the bar.

"You're wrong, Ciri, on so many levels," he said, stopping behind her. "Geralt took the contract on our way back and I stayed longer to question a few possible witnesses. Fealinn is not a reason for any of my decisions. We've never been lovers. Ciri, look at me."

Ciri relinquished her hold on the tankard and turned in her seat, elbows on the bar behind her.

"That's not what it looks like. And I wouldn't even blame you. Not really. She's beautiful and kind and skilled. Uncomplicated."

Everything Ciri was not.

She swallowed the urge to scream in his face, trying to remain calm.

"You knew from the start that what I wanted from you, you didn't want to give. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you make it perfectly clear? Why did you let me continue falling for you, Kain? Why did you give me hope where there was none?"

It stabbed him, deep. Not as much with how she had twisted things in her mind, but with that strike of reason he felt guilty for. He could've cut her hope had he not have his own stirring and worrying inside his heart. The one he tried to squelch.

"Forgive me," he said, eyeing her with a repentant face. "I answered you when you asked, not before. I never wanted you to suffer and hope in vain. But it has nothing to do with any other woman. There is no other woman. There won't be any other."

He was lying. Ciri could tell.

She shot him a disappointed look, one that mirrored the feeling currently clutching her heart.

"Lies drip from your lips like honey," she whispered, eyeing Kain's lower lip as though she could actually see the imagery in her head.

A moment later she blinked and resurfaced, slipping off her seat and heading for the door.

"You take the room. I won't sleep anyway."

"Ciri! I never lied to you!" He wanted to stall her with his magic, badly, and talk some sense into her, but at the same time realized it was futile. In truth, Kain didn't know how to change her mind.

Ciri didn't pause in her stride, afraid that, if she did, Kain would manage to draw her back in, to make her confused and hopeful again.

If she were to get through all this with her sanity intact, she needed to put some distance between them. She needed to start seeing him as what he was - Geralt's brother.

Already, her heart rebelled at the thought but Ciri forced herself to continue, slamming the door to the inn shut behind her once outside.

Kain leaned back against the bar counter, as though his knees suddenly weakened, and stood there, getting his pulse and breathing in order. Neither wanted to cooperate.

He wanted to think it should be for the best - for her to fully detach from him and thus never fall for anyone's manipulations of her feelings for him.

But his heart felt broken, nonetheless.

After a while, he took his shirt and left for the forest. He couldn't stay in the room. Her sword was still there.


	72. Chapter 72

Yennefer was still soundly asleep when Geralt carefully slipped out from her embrace and their bed to get dressed. His time for the banks investigation was running out.

Yennefer had slept light, so, despite the quiet of his movements, she woke up, watching him for a time as he got dressed in the semi-darkness. "Headed back to the bank or to check on Ciri?"

"I didn't want to wake you," he apologized, buckling his jerkin. "I need to finish with the banks, but first I need to speak to Kain." He approached the bed and bent to kiss her. "You should sleep some more. You need it."

He'd been showing her so much affection over the last two days, kissing her without prompting, last night's comfort, she had to wonder if what she wanted to reverse with the djinn was even necessary. Could it be that their relationship could get to a point that was even better than it was before? Or was it that without his knowledge of who she was it was all another lie?

"I will," she assured and reached for his collar, keeping him bent low for the time. "You didn't tell me what happened with the banks yesterday. Is it coming together? Is there anything you need me to do?"

"I have ideas," he said, smiling. "But I need to find the best way to do it. Keep an eye on Ciri," he added, sobering up. "We can't afford any other accidents."

"She's hard to keep track of," Yennefer admitted, fluffing one of the pillows beneath her head. "Like I said last night, I keep saying the wrong thing. She keeps running from me. Kain's back?"

"He should be back by now." He straightened and picked up his sword belt, fastening it. "But if they're at odds, you're the only one to watch her."

"I'll do what I can," Yennefer assured, curling up a bit tighter beneath the blankets, exhausted by the thought of walking on eggshells around Ciri. She didn't like that their relationship had currently reached that point and that there was nothing she could say or do to make it better.

"Once this bank matter is behind us, I'll get to the bottom of what's going on with her," he promised. "I'll figure it out."

He stepped out and closed the door behind him quietly.

She heard his parting words as the door closed, wondering when it had become so easy to trust that Geralt would be able to do what he had vowed.

Was it after the spell broke on the boat? The fact that in spite of all he'd said, what she'd struggled to believe, she had critical proof that their love did exist and that it wasn't some fictitious form or curse he'd bestowed on them to protect her? Was it really that easy or was she just tired of the fight? Of trying to accomplish it all on her own like she had in the past?

She groaned and swept his pillow onto her face, inhaling his scent until she'd calmed her raging new thoughts down and she was able to take his advice and sleep a while longer.

* * *

Avallac'h turned in his chair in front of the smoldering fireplace and observed his bed where Ciri stirred.

"It's been a restless slumber," he commented. "Anything bothering you?"

His voice came to her from afar and it took her a moment to register the words spoken.

She opened her eyes and blinked to get rid of the sleepiness, but refused to relinquish her hold upon the pillow she'd been cradling to her chest most of the night.

"Why? Did I talk in my sleep?"

"One doesn't have to talk to sleep restlessly," the elf responded. "What upset you so much that you confused rooms and beds?"

"I wasn't confused," Ciri admitted, watching the elf from where she lay. "Kain has returned. Means there is one bed less. I know you don't sleep much."

Which meant the likelihood of Avallac'h agreeing to lend Ciri his bed for the night was plausible.

"Kainar didn't sleep in his bed last night."

Ciri's cheeks burned with humiliation, pain clutching her heart so tightly it was hard to breathe.

He'd gone back to Fealinn?

"Oh." It was all she managed to utter for a few seconds. "I did not know."

"Wasn't it what he told you last night before he left the inn?" Avallac'h's mouth twitched in mild amusement.

"I left before him," she whispered. "I just assumed he would stay. No reason not to."

"He finds his beast a more favorable company."

Ciri sat up and glared. "Thank you. What a lovely reminder."

She threw off the blanket she'd been sleeping under and got out of bed. This day was already horrible.

"Do you not favor your own beast you named Kelpie?" Avallac'h inquired.

"For years I had no one else," Ciri said, searching for her trousers. "Even before you."

"I believe he has the same story of that bond."

"That doesn't mean I abhor everyone else's company." Not most days, anyway.

She pulled on her trousers and claimed her boots.

The elf raised his eyebrows, "Did he tell you that?"

She shrugged. "He doesn't like being with others. Told me so when we first met. Wanted to be alone. Maybe I should have let him be."

"You've changed since you and I first met. Why wouldn't he? Many things changed since then. He knows it."

Ciri frowned. "How have I changed?"

"You stopped rebelling against me so openly," he smiled. "We have built our trust. Haven't we?"

"Because you stopped blackmailing me into shagging elves," she grumbled, fastening the laces of her trousers before regarding him anew. "But yes, things between us did improve."

"All I've ever done was to help you, Zireael," he said, unperturbed by her biting remark. "As well as now. That didn't change."

She stood, a little saddened by how things had changed between them since they'd reunited with Geralt and Yennefer.

"Because you need me to stop The White Frost," she said, her voice soft. "I know."

Avallac'h stood up and approached her, gently took her chin in his fingers, a warm smile on his lips. "I need you to live, Zireael. I wish the best for you. Not because of the Frost, but because of _you_."

Ciri looked up into the elf's eyes, searching him for signs of deceit. She was so unsure who she could trust.

"Do you love me?"

Avallac'h smiled and opened his arms invitingly. "Do you doubt, Zireael?"

She stepped into his embrace willingly, wrapping her arms around the elf's waist, her gaze set on the single window in the room.

"Because I am _her_ daughter?"

"Because you're _my_ Zireael," he said, holding her.

Ciri wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but she didn't hate how those words sounded.

Strangely, no one had made her feel as wanted in the last few days as Avallac'h.

"Thank you," she whispered, squeezing him a little tighter before relinquishing her hold. "I should go see if Geralt needs any help."

"Of course," he nodded, letting her go.

She gave him a gentle smile, then stepped out into the hallway.

* * *

The Witcher found his brother downstairs sipping water at the bar. He got up when Geralt jogged down.

"You're up early."

"I spent the night with Griffin in the forest," Kain said and waved a hand when Geralt was about to ask. "I'll explain later. What's with the banks?"

"He advised to pin it on the Hunt. But I need proof."

Kain pondered, and looked at his brother, smirking. "We have proof. We merely need to bring it closer. And we need help."

"Whose?"

"Ciri's."

Geralt frowned. "You certain?"

"She's the only one who can do it quickly."

"Very well."

Ciri jogged down the stairs but came to a sudden halt when she noticed Geralt and Kain. After Avallac'h had told her Kain had slept elsewhere, she hadn't expected to see him back so soon.

Inhaling deeply to prepare herself, she took the final step and headed for the bar to find a drink of her own.

"Ciri," Geralt greeted. "Good thing you're up. We need your help."

"Really?" she asked, surprised by that. "What can I do?"

They explained.

* * *

"I don't know if I should laugh or throw you out of the damn city," Dijkstra stated. He was scowling at the Witcher from across his desk. "Do you understand how it all sounds?"

"It sounds like what happened," Geralt played back, his arms folded. "Oxenfurt wasn't their final goal - it's rather small for Aen Elle, you do realize it yourself, Dijkstra. They wanted to hit both cities, but something went wrong with their portal. They accidentally got locked on the magic that guards the banks. Perhaps the first place that misguided them was Vivaldi bank. And the rest of the portals locked on similar magic - other banks. The blocks disrupted their portals before they fully established, creating disarray inside the banks and catching the guards in that torrent."

Dijkstra sneered and applauded slowly. "You amazed me today, Geralt. I should admit I haven't expected anything more twisted than a bunch of rogue vampires or mages. But this! This is worthy of a seasoned storyteller like your friend the poet."

"And I thought it was rather interesting," Philippa said from her chair at the desk next to the Witcher. "But even more curious will be to see how you prove it all."

Geralt reached into his pocket and threw something on the desk; the few small things bounced and skittered with metallic clangs. Sigi and Philippa leaned to look.

"What is this shit?" Dijkstra asked, picking one up.

"Parts of their armor," Geralt replied.

Sigi sneered wryly, peering up at him as if the Witcher was attempting a joke. "Is this your proof?"

"Just a part of it. I found them under the furniture in the banks. Some must've been kicked by secret service boots."

"What's the other part?" asked Philippa.

"Outside of the city limits," Geralt said. "It's what Kain's been busy searching for all this time. He found it. And we can show it to you as proof."

"Very well," Dijkstra said, getting up. "I assume you won't object if we bring our head of the secret service and his men to witness it."

"By all means," said Geralt, heading for the door. "When you're ready."

They were ready within an hour, as though the promised proof would dissolve and pass into another world. Geralt brought them into a thin forest south from the harbor of the city where Kain was waiting.

What Dijkstra and his chosen group of authorities found was a clearing stricken by some sort of magic that blackened some specks of grass and broken some shrubbery. There were several bodies that looked like broken toys thrown around in a fit by a child. Some belonged to the Riders, some burnt bodies in broken armor belonged to the bank guards. A few dead hounds lay among the men and elves.

"Remarkable," Ebert Graf, the head of the secret service, uttered, dismounting. He and a couple of his subordinates moved around the scene carefully, crouching here and there for a closer look. Dijkstra didn't bother, staying on his horse, pressing a perfumed handkerchief under his nose. Philippa was smiling.

"I apologize, my lords and lady," Ebert Graf said, returning from his examination. "But the group of intruders seems too small to have been planning to assault our grand city."

"And there are only three guards," one of his subordinates added. "Where the rest?"

"Apparently the rest of the portals shot onto the sea," Kain said, and waved a hand to the seashore beyond them where the waves rolled in and out and clashed against the rocks. "We found one more body of a bank guard in the sand. The others, I'm afraid, are lost to the waves and sea monsters."

"Well, that solves the riddle," Philippa commented, turning her horse around. "I shall remove myself, if you allow. You shall do with it without my aid."

"Not before I get my reward," said Geralt.

Philippa cast an ironic gander at him over her shoulder, then looked to Sigi. Dijkstra cleared his throat.

"Yes," he said with visible distaste, "this clears the name of Yennefer of Vengerberg. I suppose you shall pass the news to her, witchers."

"We shall," said Geralt, performing a bow. "What are we to do with the bodies?"

"The guards shall be buried with honors for defending our city," Sigi ruled. "And the sodding elves should rot with their bloody hounds."

"We will burn them," Kain said. "Their bodies shouldn't remain in our ground."

"True," Dijkstra nodded. "Do it. The city thanks you for the service."

"Indeed," Ebert Graf smiled and mounted.

The witchers stood and watched the procession ride away.

"One problem less," Geralt sighed, leaning against a tree to rest.

"There's something I need to tell you," Kain said. "About Ciri."

"Fine. Tell me while we sort the bodies and burn the elves."

As they did, Kain told him about the night before and Ciri's conclusions.

* * *

Ciri would have liked to have joined the witchers during their display of proof but understood it was in their best interest she stay behind. After all, to prostrate herself in front of Dijkstra and The Secret Service would only give them a reason to remember her potential part in the whole ordeal.

And truthfully, after all the teleportation she had done that morning, collecting corpses from both the bog and ocean floor and transporting them where they needed to be, Ciri was tired.

Zoltan had served her breakfast when she returned and she was just about to tuck in when a thought occurred to her.

"Is Yennefer still in bed?"

Zoltan shrugged, wiping down a new keg from the cellar with a rag. "Don't know, lass. But she hasn't come down yet today."

That was worrying. Ciri vowed to investigate further. After she'd had her breakfast.

* * *

Yennefer supposed she should have got up as soon as her eyes had opened a second time, headed downstairs, and sought out Ciri, but she knew—from last night—that the girl was around and had even felt for her distinct energy. Yennefer didn't want to intrude any more than was necessary and drive her away again. If she could sense Ciri close by, know she was under the same roof, then Yennefer was content to play a shadow. And she had. At least for a couple of hours.

She had nodded off again, and when she woke up a final time, she was happy to find that Ciri was still around. She'd slipped from beneath the covers, sought her clothes, and sat down at the vanity, taking her time with her hair and make-up.

Thirty minutes later she was downstairs and had moved to take a seat across from Ciri at the table, only she wasn't very hungry, marginally nervous about what was going on, and unsure why.

"You look exhausted. You didn't sleep last night?"

"I did, but not well, apparently," Ciri replied, scooping a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

"You? Too busy reuniting with Geralt to sleep?" She tried not to look too mischievous but knew she was failing.

"Something like that," Yennefer retorted, tickled by the look on her daughter's face. "Have you been busy this morning? Zoltan making use of your free labor again?"

"Geralt and Kain have. They're busy clearing your name as we speak."

"Don't suppose you've heard if they've had any success?"

"Not yet," Ciri admitted. "But I am not worried. Their plan is decent."

"They've told you the plan? Lucky," Yennefer commented, sitting back in her chair to glance at the windows before getting to her feet. "I need some tea."

"I am sure they will be back soon enough," Ciri said, continuing her meal with less enthusiasm than before. "If not, I will take you away from here."

"And where would we go?" Yennefer asked, her lips twitching with amusement as she headed into the back. When she returned two minutes later, it was with a warm mug in hand.

Ciri had ample time to consider her answer but she couldn't really find a good one.

"Anywhere those horrible people were not. We'd be banned from the major cities, but that is alright. I much prefer nature, anyway."

Yennefer couldn't imagine herself living in the sticks amongst the animals. No cutlery? No civilization, and dirt that would grow thick beneath her nails and cling to her hair. There was a reason Yennefer bathed as frequently as she did and why she needed a vanity to apply her makeup, why the mere thought of being seen without rouge or liner on her face made her insides turn cold and hard. Nothing of what she owned could fit on her hips on a belt or on her back in some slapdash shoulder bag. As free as Yennefer's back was of that deformity that had haunted her as a child, there was still a lot she needed her psyche wouldn't allow her to live without unnecessarily.

"Ciri! Yennefer!" Triss was descending the stairs. She cracked a brilliant smile at the sight of them. "Any news on the banks? I was delayed in Oxenfurt."

"None," Yennefer replied. "You're looking livelier. I guess working with Geralt yesterday, trying to keep my name from being muddied has added a little rose to your cheeks. Why were you in Oxenfurt?"

"Geralt needed to meet Kain there," she said, settling with them, and poured herself some water from the pitcher. "And we had a nice evening with Dandelion and Shani. The witchers left earlier, though. They rode here."

"Lovely," Yennefer commented. "Glad you found time to have such a decent affair while I worried about the state of my life. Were you of any benefit in yesterday's banks endeavor? What were you to do?"

"Yennefer!" Triss chided. "I was trying to help. I did what Geralt needed me to do, and afterward, I wasn't needed to bring him back here. He rode Dandelion's horse." She drank and looked between Yennefer and Ciri. "I suppose Kain assisted him with searching for the answers."

"So Ciri has informed me as well," Yennefer replied, sipping her tea.

"I wonder what the solution is," Triss mused. "Scarcely he would go with what he decided earlier."

"What's to decide? I'm innocent," the raven-haired mage stated, setting her mug down on the table, wondering how much Geralt had shared with Triss. Yennefer had advised him to keep the truth close to his chest.

"We knew that," Triss said, throwing back her chestnut hair. "But we had to come up with a guilty party, and it wasn't going well."

"Did you speak with Philippa about it? See what nodes of wisdom she might have had to share?"

"No, of course not! It was solely between me and Geralt." Triss considered her and leaned in. "What do you think could've done such a thing?"

Yennefer thought it over.

"A gang or anyone in desperate need of coin. After what you've seen yesterday, what or who did you think could have done such a thing?"

"With how the banks are protected and with the guards in each, I was at a loss. Four banks in one night - it makes it utterly incredible." Triss turned to Ciri. "What would you say, darling? Any ideas?"

"Not a clue," Ciri lied. "I know of no person or monster capable of pulling off such a thing."

Lies came easy to Ciri now. It should have frightened her. But instead, she only felt smug satisfaction.

"That is true," Triss nodded. "It's a mystery." She stood up and went to the kitchen to see about her breakfast.

Not long after, Geralt and Kain walked in, both looking tired.

"Oh, here you are!" Triss greeted them with a charming smile. "Come, sit, eat with us."

"Any news?" Zoltan asked, setting a pot of tea and a pitcher of cider on the table.

"Yennefer's name is cleared," Geralt said, pouring himself some cider. "We found dead Riders with their hounds outside the city, some dead guards with them. The Hunt's attack went wrong, and the dwarven banks' magic blocks disrupted their portals and shot them outside the city and into the sea."

Triss gasped. "Oh, gods! Is this possible?"

"It was a lucky outcome for the city, but an unfortunate turn for the guards. All of them died."

"Oh, it's horrible," Triss sighed. "They will be buried with honor."

"That they will," sighed Geralt, and drank.

"Darn shame about the lads, aye," said Zoltan. "But had they attacked, we'd be in so much trouble. Sodding elves! I wish we could squeeze them out of our world once and for all. Damn!"

He went to the bar, grumbling. One of the maids went past him from the kitchen with breakfast for the witchers.

Ciri leaned forward, elbows on the table. "So Ebert and his men will back off?"

She really had not liked that old creep.

"They said so," Geralt nodded. "It's done."

Yennefer was trying to wrap her head around the plan they'd come up with. Where had that particular story come from? How'd they even manage to make Philippa and Dijkstra believe it? She couldn't imagine it and yet Geralt had said she was in the clear and that half of the nightmare was over.

"Thank you," Yennefer responded when she finally found her ability to join in on the conversation, her heart feeling more afraid than it did relief.

She knew that a big part of what Geralt had done the following days had been for Ciri, but at the same time, she believed—despite the inner voice that told her not to be too excited about all the effort he'd gone through to help the situation—had been done for her as well. It had been Yennefer's neck on the line.

What did it mean and how much of it stemmed from affection? Love?

"What of Dijkstra? How hard did he fight against that outcome?"

"He doesn't care for as long as there is an answer for people," Geralt said. "He got his proof and a few bodies to bury. He was content."

"Guess that's it then. We're able to dust our hands and move onto more serious matters. Like the Wild Hunt."

And Ciri.

"There are still a few things to clear in Velen," Kain said. "But I can do it myself and join you in Skellige."

"I'll stay, too," Geralt added, and looked at the women. "Only for a few days. You can go to Skellige with the Lodge and Avallac'h."

"If you have business elsewhere, we can all wait," Triss reasoned. "In case of a more successful attack and merely to get our wits together and decide what is next."

"Philippa's on our side? I would have thought she'd be reluctant to leave Novigrad presently when she's carved herself such a cozy title of power."

"We are all interested in ending this elvish threat," Triss said. "Philippa, as well. Besides, it would take all our joined efforts to locate Sunstone."

"Convenient," Yennefer chimed. Only a day ago Philippa set her free for whatever means while her ex-lover was vying to burn Yennefer alive. Ciri had also yet to interrupt or make her own suggestions on what she wanted to do. Strange considering how vocal Ciri usually tended to be.

"Doesn't Avallac'h know where it is?" Kain asked.

"Apparently there are many possible locations, but no one knows for certain. It is a legend, after all."

"And where is it best to search for legends than at a nice library?" Fringilla added, approaching, and winked at Geralt. He smirked knowingly. "I shall depart to Toussaint and make use of the books there. I'm sure Yennefer has lots of books she could leaf through on her own. There is a massive library at the Oxenfurt Academy."

"Which has been sorted through many of us before," Triss responded.

"They pride themselves in obtaining many new and old and lost volumes every year," the black-haired sorceress added and gave Yennefer a mysterious smile. "Our dear Yenna also has a friend who would be more than happy to enlighten her on so many things he's learned of elves and their legends. The land he resides in is cold, but not as severely while it's summer."

Ciri didn't say anything at all. She was curious to see how events would play out if she did not offer her input. Would they even notice?

Geralt and Kain obviously couldn't get away from her quickly enough, they were so eager to return to Velen. What was it that lured them back there?

She would find out before they could leave. She also had a few other questions to ask, but could not utter them in the company of everyone else.

Fringilla's elusion to Istredd hadn't gone unnoticed, but for a time Yennefer had decided not to give in to the enticement or reason for the subtle commentary. Yennefer had thought of visiting Istredd from Nenneke's temple a week ago, intending to figure some things out, but all that had changed. She wasn't eager to depart from either Geralt or Ciri. Not even for a week or two.

A lot could happen during that time and she knew neither would be eager to join her there. It would also be mightily uncomfortable.

"I'll make use of the library in Oxenfurt, the Troubadour can put himself to some use too and make work of reading someone else's writing for a change."

"My cousin the Duchess would be thrilled to receive the news of Ciri being recovered," Fringilla said, smiling at the girl and the Witcher. "If you wish to join me and tell her the story yourself, she would be happy. And even more so if she meets Cirilla now that she is a grown woman and not the little girl she remembers from her visits to Cintra."

"I'm sure it would be a lovely visit," said Geralt. "But it would hardly make a good time for us in our haste."

"There is no haste until we find the stone," Fringilla reminded and peered at Ciri. "What do you say, Ciri? Would you like to visit Toussaint? It's especially magnificent this time of year."

"It will still be magnificent when we're done with war and can rest," Triss grumbled.

"We don't have time for pleasantries," Ciri said in response to Fringilla's offer. "The Hunt could strike again at any moment and we must be ready. It would be greatly appreciated if The Lodge could put their infatuation with Geralt aside while we fight for the world's survival."

She shot an unimpressed look in Fringilla and Triss' way and stood. "The stone is our main priority."

With a nod of her head, she gestured for Geralt to follow her outside. She needed to talk to him.

"Oh, but it has little to do with Geralt, albeit charming and desirable," Fringilla said with another wink directed at the Witcher, "and so much more with the Sunstone myth. Why not combine a little pleasure of a hearty meeting with the necessary research?"

"We shall discuss this a bit later," Geralt said, getting up. "Excuse me, ladies."

"Of course," Fringilla nodded, and watched him follow Ciri out, then cast a curious gander at Kain. "What about you, White Cat? Do you ever travel apart from the Wolf, anymore?"

"When I have to," he responded, returning the smile.

Triss rolled her eyes and sipped her tea.

* * *

Ciri turned on Geralt the moment they were outside and the door closed behind him.

"What's in Velen?"

He raised his eyebrows and hands, surprised by her ardor. "Beasts were attacking the villages after the Crones' demise," he said. "We were trying to figure out whether they and their magic are truly gone and what was causing the attacks."

"And did you? Find out?"

"There was no time - the incident with the banks happened."

"And you think this is worth our time?" she asked curiously. "Drowners and hags attacking small settlements?"

It cut him how dismissively she viewed it. "One village has already been destroyed, people died," he said. "I need to help those that still live. It's my duty."

"Alright," she mused, deep in thought before lifting her gaze to the witcher again. "Where did the hounds come from?"

Fringilla's bold attempts to dismantle her family by including Ciri into her pursuits of Geralt made Yennefer's insides turn to frost and anger sweep through her. As did the waves of envy sweeping off Triss.

Yennefer was sitting right here amongst them. What right did either have to boldly revel in their disappointments and hopes? Was she not the one sharing his bed?

As quickly as Yennefer had been against the idea of seeing Istredd—of avoiding that complication—she had to wonder if it was the best course of action.

How much had Geralt told them about what happened with the Djinn and was that why both of them were clawing at him as if he were an exposed bone?

She excused her from the table and moved to join Ciri and Geralt outside.

Geralt's eyes flicked to Yennefer momentarily before fixating on Ciri again. "From a portal," he replied. "Around the same time as the Riders you killed."

"There were more of them?" Ciri was surprised. "Riders as well? Did you have to fight them?"

"No, just those you killed and the hounds that were left alone. They were roaming the bog and attacking people."

"How strange," Ciri muttered. "They were not part of my vision. I did not see them."

And she felt angry at herself for that. She had thought she'd finished the job. Clearly not.

"Vision?" Geralt frowned. "You had visions?"

Ciri nodded in regards to Geralt's question. "Yes. I felt them coming. That's why I went to the bog in the first place."

"Even the most adept clairvoyant can't see every corner of the world, Ciri," Yennefer put in. "You've had a lot on your mind."

Ciri looked to the sorceress. "It wasn't every corner of the world. It was the very same one. I should have picked up on it."

"Don't judge yourself too hard, Ciri," Geralt said, squeezing her shoulder gently. "You're not supposed to see them every time they choose to arrive."

"Geralt's right," Yennefer added. "Any corner that's not in your surrounding vicinity is part of the world and unless your main function is to follow their energy I wouldn't be as concerned. It wouldn't be possible anyway without a device to help."

"We have no devices but our own eyes and ears," Geralt said. "Therefore it needs to be looked into personally. Which we're going to work on with Kain during the next few days."

"We?" Ciri asked Geralt. "Including me?"

"What do you mean?" Geralt asked.

"You said we are going to Velen with Kain. _We_."

"I meant Kain and myself," the Witcher clarified. "You showed no interest in people that are not yours."

"That's severe, Geralt. Ciri has always cared – does care."

"I merely repeated her own words," he retorted.

"You are mine," Ciri said, cold and unflinching. "Or have I misread that connection as well?"

Like she had her and Kain.

He frowned, "As well?"

"Never mind." She brushed the sentiment of Kain aside.

"You are mine." A statement, not a question. "So I care."

Ciri had been possessive of Geralt as a child and Yennefer has seen it expressed with a lot of ferocity, but she'd never sounded so challenged about it.

Geralt and Yennefer exchanged a brief bewildered glance, and the Witcher asked, "You want to partake in this contract to help people in Velen?"

Ciri shrugged. "I'm sure I could be of use. And it would be quicker than if you do it alone."

"I agree," said Yennefer. "Time isn't on our side. Three pairs of hands and eyes would make for lighter work. I could assist as well."

"I'd rather you assisted with what we can't do at the moment," Geralt reasoned. "With the elven legends. And Ciri will aid us with Velen if she wants."

Yennefer opened her mouth to argue that fact, to remind him of the bank episode and how much better it was for all of them to stick together, but she had no idea how to do that in Ciri's presence.

"Then it is decided," Ciri said. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as we're capable. After a short rest on my part. You can prepare your horse."

"And where shall we meet when it's done?" Yennefer asked. "Back in Novigrad? Skellige? How long will this mission take?"

"Back here is a good place," he said, waving a hand at _Rosemary and_ _Thyme_. "If we sail to Skellige, it's from here that we do."

"I will go tend to Kelpie," Ciri said, heading for the stables with that mission in mind.

"Wonderful," Yennefer mused as Ciri headed for the stables, reaching for Geralt to keep him from heading inside and waiting until her blonde head was out of sight before speaking again. She turned to face Geralt slowly once they were alone. "If it wasn't already clear inside, I wanted to make it known how grateful I am for what you did with the bank for me. It doesn't sound like you had it easy."

He smiled and stroked a finger along her cheekbone. "I had to save you from that unfair charge, there was no other way. Now, however," his smile dimmed, "we have Ciri to save. I don't know how, but I'll have to find a way."

"We will find a way," Yennefer added factually. "We can't afford to do that separately, Geralt. You heard what happened and how swiftly it changed."

Yennefer wasn't going to elaborate since she hadn't spelled the space they were in outside and there were a bunch of sorceresses who liked to feed Philippa information inside.

"Are you still wearing that trinket I gave you and you used at the Bog to summon me should any misfortune arise?"

She scanned him in search of it.

"I still have it. And I'll have Kain. We'll manage. Riding around the bog and searching for monsters is not for you, Yennefer. You can rest and see if you find anything useful in your books."

"I don't doubt for a second that Kain and yourself are capable of killing monsters or saving the intended village. Ciri is a different issue altogether. Take my advice and tread carefully."

That was all she'd say on the matter. Yennefer still hardly knew what that matter was.

She drew close and pressed her mouth to his, considering whether or not to bring up her earlier doubts, feeling them slip from her tongue even as she pulled back and prepared to break away.

"Have you told my fellow sorceresses of your mental ailment?"

He scowled, "Of what?"

"Playing stupid is beneath you, Geralt," Yennefer chastised without heat, tapping the side of his head gently with her index before gesturing to herself. "Fringilla and Triss were fighting over you like a slab of marinating meat. Like they have something to compete for."

He frowned, displeased. "I told no one of my _ailment_ as you put it, for I have none. I'm perfectly fine. Whatever happened to my memory is not a damn ailment, and you're aware of it."

"You never learned the art of subtlety," Yennefer countered, a matching frown on her face. Her gaze darted over his shoulder toward the door as if she expected it to open. "There was a reason for my choice of word that had nothing to do with trying to insult you. The last time you lost your memory Triss jumped you like a desperate hungry wolf. I get the distinct impression that others might be eager to repeat that."

His mouth twitched in an ironic sneer. "And what of it? You expect me to eagerly aid anyone willing to bed me, and wish to warn me against it because with my _ailment_ I won't be able to think for myself?"

"No. I wished to warn you because you don't remember the first time."

And because it had hurt.

She had found the twist of his mouth and general look on his face enough to keep her from wanting to air it out loud. This was not the time for this conversation anyway. She knew that, only now, she'd wished her brain had before it had bubbled from her lips with so little control.

"I should get going, those books aren't going to read themselves. Take care of yourself and our girl."

With that, she'd turned away and prepared to head back inside.

He watched her retreating back pensively, trying to sort his irritation and bewilderment. He had found comfort in her arms and the need for it inside his heart, and yet it somehow wasn't enough. There was a faint feeling of familiarity with this urge of possession he read in her, and he couldn't place it. He nearly growled in frustration: it was impossibly disturbing to sense memories instead of having them at his full disposal. It was incredibly nasty to be unable to fully trust things he remembered.

Fringilla was saying something that made Triss giggle when Yennefer walked in. The sorceresses and Kain looked at her with inquisitive attention.

"Everything all right?" Triss asked. "You look a little flushed."

"It's hot outside," Yennefer explained indifferently. She hadn't been prepared to extend any goodbyes to those in the dining hall and was less inclined to make small talk. "I'm off to Oxenfurt."

Without waiting on them to react she began to climb the stairs to their room. Before she made plans to leave she needed to gather together a few of her belongings and some coin.

* * *

Ciri made sure Kelpie was receiving enough food and water to allow her to make the first stretch of the journey they were about to embark on. She would have preferred to travel by magic to save time, but apparently, neither witcher enjoyed that means of transportation.

Once finished, Ciri headed back for the inn. If Geralt was to rest before they went, she didn't want to spend those hours in the stables.

"Cirilla," Fringilla called when the girl entered. "Have you changed your mind about visiting Toussaint? I've almost convinced Kain."

Triss scoffed and Kain clicked his tongue, hiding his smirk behind his cup of water, taking a sip.

Ciri shook her head, coming to a halt beside their table.

"I am joining the witchers in Velen." She eyed Kain out of the corner of her eye, curious if that would disappoint him.

"Aww," Fringilla drawled, her expression vividly disappointed. "That's a shame. Maybe once you're done with your witcher games. We might need a pair of fresh eyes to look through books."

"I'm sure you can manage," Triss said dryly and regarded Ciri and Kain. "Is it a contract? Something bad enough for three witchers?"

"We hope it's nothing too bad," Kain put in. "But it takes time and distances to cover to find out."

"Oh, of course," Triss nodded, sighing.

Ciri assumed Fringilla had not heard about the last time she and Geralt had visited Toussaint. If she had, she may not have been as eager to invite them back. Not that Ciri or Geralt had been in the wrong, but Dandelion had managed to insult the duchess in a most grievous manner and, as they fled Toussaint, she'd gotten the impression most of the residents loathed the witcher and his ward simply by association.

That had been a long time ago. Perhaps Dandelion had been forgiven?

"I prefer the sword to research," Ciri revealed. "Fear I won't be much good in a library."

"Don't demean your brilliant mind, darling," Triss argued. "You're most wonderful with books. A habit like that doesn't die."

"We'll finish with our Velen problem first and then we shall see where our help is needed," Kain offered.

"Fair enough," Fringilla said. "Though it's still a shame to be buried in the books on my lonesome." She poured herself more cider.

"You could always bring Triss?" Ciri suggested innocently.

"I have my own business and research to tend to," Triss retorted. "We'll need to search in different places if we hope to collect all pieces of this puzzle."

"As far as I understand, that elf of yours is not eager to help?" Fringilla asked.

"He helps in his own way," Ciri said. "If you wish to question him about his knowledge, however, feel free.

"He probably won't indulge you," she amended a moment later, casting a look towards the stairs. "I think he sometimes feels guilty. Betraying his own kin."

"And yet he's here and not with them," Fringilla pointed out, sipping her cider lazily. "Isn't it pointless to regret a decision made?"

"I suppose you can take it up with him," Triss gave her a mocking smile.

Kain got up, "I'll have to prepare for the ride. Bid you farewell, ladies."

"Hopefully not for long," Triss smiled. "Be safe."

"And come back soon," Fringilla added with a cunning smile, drawing inspiration from Triss's annoyance. They both watched him go for the door.

Ciri's eyes narrowed in pure loathing at the way the sorceresses ogled Kain when he got up, but they were both far too busy watching him to notice.

"He's young enough to be your grandson! Gods!" she scoffed and headed up the stairs. She needed to fetch her sword from Kain's room. She wasn't sure what other preparations Geralt and Kain needed to make, but Ciri was ready to go.

* * *

Kain found Geralt in the stables brushing Roach. He seemed to be deep in thought.

"You sure you can ride now? You have to rest."

"I'll be fine," Geralt replied. "Besides, I doubt the first place on our list we have to ride to. I met that girl in Oxenfurt. She told me where we can find them."

"And you think... portal?"

Geralt sighed, "Better than spending five days riding to and five back."

"Fair. Who?"

"Triss or Fringilla."

"And which one you trust more?"

"I'd say Triss, but... Fringilla and I-"

"Yes, I figured. She's still with the Lodge, though. Why not ask Yennefer?"

Geralt scoffed softly. "She's being... edgy."

"She's been under pressure lately, it's not surprising."

"Right, and I've been enjoying a dreamland and courtesans instead of trying to save her."

"Women never think about it, Geralt. They care about what they do though. Just ask her to help you. Pick her and it might matter."

"I've been picking her and it hardly matters."

"It should. Doesn't always work, but... Well, just do it."

Geralt went back to the inn and his room where Yennefer was packing for her leave.


	73. Chapter 73

Yennefer had taken her time gathering her possessions, maybe because she was miserable, and also because she'd been pondering whether to portal or ride to Oxenfurt. The decision was usually an easy one. However, like the witchers tended to do at times, she was craving a bit of solitude before she lost herself in her research.

She looked up when Geralt entered the room but found herself unable to conjure up any more words, assuming that he was there to grab what he himself needed before they left.

They'd already said their goodbyes.

"You're leaving?" he asked, watching her collect her vials of perfume and makeup from the vanity table.

Yennefer nodded.

"Research takes time and I'm not used to feeling inadequate. The last few days have been taxing on all of us. I thought I'd get a head start on the research. Unless there's more to know?"

"Before you depart, I need to ask you for a favor. Have you been to Tretogor? We need to get there today. Ciri will bring us back, so you won't have to wait."

"Of course I'll help," Yennefer replied. She wondered if he actually thought she'd say no. "Is it only you and Ciri traveling?"

"It's me you're taking. Ciri and Kain will follow."

"I'm surprised you're the one voluntarily choosing to take a portal," Yennefer quipped. He'd made the decision for her and her travel means. She did up the strings on her carry bag and straightened up. "When do you wish to leave?"

"When you're ready." He refrained from addressing her jibe about his issue with portals. He was done with issues for today.

She pulled on her cloak, swung the bag onto her shoulder so it could rest on her back and her hands would be free, and then summoned the portal, motioning for him to go ahead.

As soon as Geralt stepped through, she followed, the two appearing outside the walls of the Redanian capital as far from the entrance to its derelict and similarly fortified gates as she could remember.

"Why Tretogor? Looking for an audience with the King or wanting to sneak in a horse race?"

"Neither," he said, eyeing the city walls looming ahead. "I need to question a person from Velen. They're supposed to be there."

Yennefer had nothing else to say to that answer and the city itself wasn't too far from Novigrad. He wouldn't have to wait too long for Ciri and Kain to catch up. If at all.

"I'll leave you to get started on your mission then."

He nodded, regarding her; his hand itched to touch her face, but his confused mind kept it still at his side. "Be careful with yours and try to stay out of trouble."

Yennefer made another motion of the hand and carried herself away.

* * *

Ciri fetched her sword and fastened it to her back. She briefly paused outside Avallac'h's room, considering informing him of where she was going.

But her instincts told her he would put up a fight. He did not like the distance between them already. Better have someone else tell him later when Ciri and the witchers were already off.

She made for the stables where she found Kain and the horses but no Geralt.

"Are we not leaving at once?"

She knew Geralt had yet to have any rest, but honestly, how much did he need? He'd gotten to sleep through the night before as far as she was aware.

"We're going to Tretogor," Kain said, stroking Onyx's back. "Yennefer will get Geralt there, and you and I will have to follow. If you're rested, that is."

"Tretogor?" Ciri reached for Kelpie's muzzle to pet her, but the horse conveniently took a step back before Ciri could reach her. "What's in Tretogor?"

He smiled subtly, "Someone to talk to. You'll see."

That was ominous.

Ciri watched Kain for a long moment, trying to decide whether or not he was being serious or toying with her.

Her conclusion was uncertain.

"Can you take us with the horses or just us?" Kain asked. "It's not a particularly big city, so either will do."

"I can take the horses." Ciri lifted her chin proudly, looking from her own mount to Kain and Geralt's. "But if we don't need them..."

She hesitated a moment, then offered her hand up to Kain. "I can't take you unless I've a hold on you."

He took her hand, struck by the altered sensation. She was the same Ciri, and yet she was as distant as back on Skellige when they'd just met.

He didn't like it one bit.

Even holding Kain's hand made Ciri's heart thrash wildly. She was grateful he wouldn't be able to tell. She'd already made enough of a fool of herself.

She squeezed his hand tightly as if to reassure herself she would not lose him, then closed her eyes and zeroed in on her bond with Geralt. She would need it for navigation.

As always when traveling by following someone else's essence, her power did not bring them straight to her target. But it was better than before. Ciri could see Geralt down the other end of the street. They wouldn't have to walk far.

* * *

Geralt watched Yennefer go with a mixture of irritation and sadness he didn't enjoy. From the corner of his eye, he caught two familiar figures approaching.

"Welcome to Tretogor," he said, smiling at Ciri. "Home to the Coppertown and the famous Grand Tretorian races. We need to find the inn, though. Shouldn't be much trouble."

It wasn't much trouble at all - everyone knew where _The Golden Rooster_ was. Even more people tried to point them toward _The Black Lily,_ but Geralt didn't need such help.

"What are we doing here?" Ciri murmured under her breath. "Who are you looking to speak to?"

"Someone who might know about the Crones," Geralt said and jerked his chin toward the Rooster door.

"I'll be a moment," Kain said and went in.

"The Crones are dead." Ciri crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. "You truly think their death urged creatures to attack those villages?"

"Their power controlled the bog and its creatures to some extent," the Witcher said. "We need to make sure there is nothing left to manipulate them. More people will die otherwise."

"Perhaps we should not have left their huts standing," Ciri mused. "Perhaps we should have destroyed everything that belonged to them. It is sure to be soaked in their wickedness."

"I don't think it's their hut that's at fault," the Witcher responded. "Their chapel was destroyed and thoroughly burned. The other hut was their orphanage." He pondered for a bit. "Maybe we can burn it, too. Just to cleanse the place."

Kain emerged a moment later. "They're staying here, indeed," he said. "They've been down for breakfast and he's going to leave for the market soon."

Before Geralt could respond, the door opened and the man in question stepped out. His beard got thicker with more gray in it, and his girth got thinner. All in all, the Bloody Baron of Velen was still a significant figure, tall and broad-shouldered.

"Witcher?" he inquired, squinting as though he didn't believe his eyes. "And you, girl? I see you found each other! Finally. About damn time."

Ciri's mouth fell open in surprise at the sight of the man before her. He was the last person she'd expected to see again.

"Baron!" she exclaimed, a soft smile making her lips curve. "What are you doing here, so far from home?"

It was concerning, really. The self-proclaimed Baron of Velen had several soldiers and servants under his rule back at Crow's Perch. To leave that all behind, even for a few days, informed Ciri something was terribly wrong.

"Your witcher didn't tell you?" Baron asked. "It's my wife. I had to take her to a hermit healer in the Blue Mountains. We spent so many days there I lost count. All cold and snow and storms and hails. A whole lot of shit for nothing. And then - about a week or more..." He trailed off, his eyes glistened with welling tears. "She called my name," he uttered in an emotional, cracked voice. "I saw her eyes sharpen, recognize me! She spoke and she remembered. It was a miracle! And let me tell ye it had no shit to do with that sodding healer. Whatever it was that brought her back - I don't need to know, but I'm the happiest I've been! Hell, even if she didn't fully forgive me..."

"I spoke to Tamara," Geralt said. "She told me you were coming back with a stop here. What now?"

"Now Anna needs a beautiful and peaceful place to stay," the Baron said. "I'm buying a small vinery in Toussaint, and my girls are moving there. We're here to buy horses and things for the road."

The death of the Crones.

Ciri smiled, daring a look at Geralt. Surely he had to feel it, too. They had done something good.

The destruction of the Crones hadn't just been for their own sake, but for the world's.

A heroic deed.

"Toussaint is indeed beautiful," Ciri said, "And more peaceful than the rest of the duchies." At least on the surface. Probably due to all those honorable knights.

"Aye, it is," the Baron nodded, wiping at his eyes.

"What are you going to do?" Geralt asked. "Move with them?"

"I only hope, Witcher, I can only hope they find it in them to forgive and accept me." He sighed. "For now, I see them to the vinery, make sure they're settled, and then return to Crow's Perch to get my things in order."

"Can we speak to your wife?" Geralt asked. "The Crones perished, and we want to make sure of it."

The Baron's eyes went wide. "They perished? So that's why... How? Did you do it, Witcher?" He laughed, grabbing Geralt by the shoulders. "That's the best news in my entire sodding life, I swear! If you need anything at all-"

"I wasn't alone, Ciri fought them with me," Geralt said.

"By the gods, girl!" the Baron boomed, pulling Ciri into a bear hug. "You saved Anna! You saved her! Not some damned hermit, sod his arse."

"Can we see her?" Geralt repeated. "For a little while."

The Baron sobered, letting Ciri go. "Aye, but for a little. She's still a bit timid of the world, my Anna. As if afraid the curse will return. It will be a grand relief for her to know it won't."

They followed the Baron back inside the inn and up the stairs to the room where he and Anna resided.

The first thing that struck Ciri was how pretty the Baron's wife looked. From the brief description Geralt had given her in the past, Anna had been grey-haired and old with sagging skin. It had looked as though something had sucked the life and joy from her face.

If she had been entangled with the Crones, it was no wonder.

But now, courtesy of Geralt, Ciri, and Yennefer, Anna's appearance actually matched her age.

She was seated on a wooden chair close to the window that was partially obstructed by heavy curtains. She'd been peering out through a small sliver of clear space when Ciri and the others entered.

Anna squinted at them uncertainly, wringing her hands in her lap, her eyes drifting from her husband to Geralt.

"You," she murmured, making it clear she remembered the witcher.

Ciri didn't know if that was good or bad.

"Yes, Lady Anna," the Witcher bowed. "It is me. This is Ciri, my daughter I've found thanks to your help, and my brother witcher who works with me now."

Her eyes, sparkly and sharp, surveyed the two he introduced, she allowed a small smile and a faint nod of acknowledgment. "I'm glad to see I've helped at least someone," she said, her face saddened. "My children... They weren't mine, but... they were the only happy moment I had there."

"They're all right," the Witcher said. She looked up at him with hope so bright it was like a smile. "People in the village took them in."

"Oh! It's so good of them! Philip," she turned to her husband who stepped yo her with great care in his every gesture, ready to do anything she would ask for. "We have to help them, give them some coin..."

"Of course, my dearest," he assured. "I shall do so. I swear."

"Good," she nodded, content, and returned her eyes to Geralt. "I thank you for the news, I'm delighted."

"There is something else I need to ask of you," Geralt said.

"Oh... Of course, if I can help..."

"It might be hard for you," he warned. The Baron tensed slightly, Geralt noticed. "Tell me of your miraculous healing. What did you feel, and how did your curse end?"

Her eyes turned shifty, the old fear swept through them. "I... I'm not sure I can help... It's all like in a fog... It was a horrifying time, I couldn't tell the visions and fears apart, could not tell which was real. It all seemed so real, and so awful! They tortured me with visions of my children dying, of my little baby choking on her blood and... and..."

She wiped at her eyes, ruling down her emotions. The Baron stood gloomy as a rainy day in a cemetery.

"Many horrible things they showed me over and over," she continued in a constricted voice. "But then... I have no idea what happened, but everything suddenly lifted. I was surfacing from deep darkness and then I saw the sun, the day... and Philip. I felt light, so light I haven't felt in ages." She shrugged and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief her husband gave her. "I don't know what else I can say."

"May I ask for your hands, Lady?" Kain stepped forth. "Was it where they branded you? My brother told me."

"Yes... yes, it was, but nothing there now," she held her palms up to him. He touched her hands gently, studying her palms and wrists.

"No seals, no binding magic," he said, letting go. "It's gone. You're free of it, Lady. Free of your debt to them, for the Crones are gone. So is your bloody promise to them."

Her face crumpled as tears welled up, but there was hopeful joy in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, and wept. Her husband held her, and she let him.

"We bid you farewell, Lady and Lord Baron," Geralt said. "We wish you a safe journey and a happy life."

"Thank you, Witcher, and you, girl," said the Baron, for his wife could not speak. "Bless ye all. Mayhaps we'll see each other again sometime. If you need anything, don't hesitate to find me."

"Thank you," Geralt bowed, and led his companions out of the room.

"A lovely ending to a tragic story," Ciri mused once they were outside. "But what was the point of all this, Geralt?"

"To make sure the Crones and all their magic is gone," he said as they strolled through the street. "Had any part of them survived, the curse would hold. It was meant to stay for as long as the cause of it drew from it. She's changed - which means their power feeds on her no longer."

"Now we have to find what else replaced them in the bog," Kain added.

"And for that, I assume we want our mounts?" Ciri asked. That meant another stop in Novigrad before they could go to Velen.

"Indeed," the Witcher said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Unless you wish to take a stroll to Coppertown and marvel at the dwarven craftsmanship."

She shot him a dubious look. "Is that something you would enjoy? Who are you and what have you done to my Geralt?"

She held her hand out for Kain like before.

The Witcher made himself smile. "It never hurts to offer a young lady some entertainment when possible," he said as Kain took her hand.

"Very much depends on the entertainment offered," she muttered, transporting them back to the _Rosemary and Thyme_ stable as soon as her fingers had wrapped around Kain's.

Three hours later, the trio walked into the Crossroads Inn for a snack and a possible piece of information. Geralt lingered at the counter, talking to the innkeeper, while Ciri and Kain went to take a table in the far corner.

Ciri removed her gloves and threw them down on the table, taking a seat.

She'd been feeling increasingly tired during their ride, but the moment they'd crossed the border to Velen her spirits had lifted again. No logical explanation as to why other than that her mind knew a break was soon coming.

"You slept with Griffin last night?" she asked Kain in a quiet voice.

The question had been gnawing at her ever since that morning.

Kain sat back in his chair, stretching his legs under the table with a sigh. "Yes," he replied. "Why?"

"I thought you took the room after I left. But Avallac'h told me differently this morning." She shrugged, trying not to come off as too obvious. "I was simply curious."

He regarded her with a hint of irony. "You thought I went to her bed. Why asking if you don't believe any word I say?"

_Because I wish you had become a better liar._

"Some sort of feeble hope, I suppose. That you would miraculously give me an answer that would take away the pain."

"I already told you the truth," he said with calm resignation. "There is no other woman. But you choose to call it lies. I can't do anything about it."

Ciri crossed her arms across her chest, an act of defense, a vain attempt at trying to block herself from the onset of pesky emotions. It didn't work. The pain was still there. The humiliation.

"And yet you kiss her. You let her touch you." Whenever Ciri had tried to do the same, he had pulled away. Wasn't that telling enough? "You have a history together. She is... You trust her. She brings you comfort."

Ciri knew that much and even voicing the words aloud made her want to cry.

The men at the table nearest to them were snickering, enjoying 'the show' as though it was a dramatic play performed on stage. Ciri tried to ignore them. They were insignificant drunkards.

"She is my friend and brings me comfort," he confirmed. Whatever was askew with Ciri, he didn't feel the need to bend the facts. "Griffin brings me comfort just the same. Like Avallac'h does for you. Or Yennefer, Dandelion, and all the people who care about you. Is it wrong to have someone who knows you from way back to draw comfort from?"

"No," Ciri said. "But I don't have the same physical contact with Yennefer and Avallac'h as you do Fealinn. We don't kiss, we don't..."

Fealinn had explained to Ciri how her treatments worked with men. She assumed it was no different with Kain.

She swallowed the words and lowered her gaze to the table, more vulnerable than she liked to be. Especially with an audience watching.

"Would things be different if you were not Geralt's brother?"

Getalt had joked about Kain being Ciri's uncle and she hadn't taken it so seriously back then. But now the thought had struck her more than once.

What if Kain saw her as Geralt's daughter more than anything else?

Her hurt was getting to him, making his heart ache. He kept his face in check and shook his head once subtly. "No, my being his brother has nothing to do with it."

The fault lay with Ciri then. It was a hard truth to face, but one she was forced to.

She averted her gaze, fearful she would shed tears like she almost had during their last confrontation. She wouldn't be able to stand it. Especially once Geralt returned to ask what had happened.

Oh Gods, the humiliation would kill her.

"Oy, oy," one of the drunken men on the other table called, slamming his tankard down so hard some of his ale spilled. "Ye don't want the wench, we'll take 'er!"

His friends shushed him through fits of quiet laughter, one of them wrestled him back into his chair.

Ciri set her jaw, the pain that consumed her slowly giving way to anger.

Kain turned to fix the drunkard with a stare. He looked calm, and his voice was quiet but it reached them all with no problem as if spoken into each ear personally: "You don't want to touch that wench and find out how painfully fire can scorch."

The group sobered up, their smiles slipped off their faces like caked dirt falling off. They exchanged bewildered glances, except for the drunkard whose eyes were locked on Kain's.

"You want to leave now and stay away all day," Kain added, his eyes flicking from one to another.

"Fuck this," the drunkard said, yanking his arms from his friends' hold, getting up to his unsteady feet. He staggered for the door, and his friends followed, grumbling something about sodding witchers and their jinx.

"That was magic?" Ciri asked once the men were out of sight. "You making them leave. It was magic?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. I never tried to dissect what it is - it just is. Magic, or the power of conviction. A useful skill for a spy. Saves a lot of trouble. They were drunk and their wills offered no resistance."

Yet Ciri didn't know of anyone else who could do that so effortlessly, without making a witcher sign or casting a spell.

"Elder Blood," she murmured. "It's because you are special. We are special. It makes sense that we would find each other."

He didn't think he'd have ever found her, had she not stumbled upon him, but said nothing. It was one of the things he preferred not to dissect - destiny or fate, predestination, or the whole concept of Elder Blood.

"It's not a shot that never misses, Ciri," he said. "There are individuals it doesn't work on. Sorceresses, some Aen Seidhe, maybe even witchers. Special or not, I don't always win."

"You may lose battles, but never the war," she mused. "We have a power inside us others can't even begin to imagine. It's why we're still standing."

She absentmindedly touched a hand to the scar running along her cheek. "Against all odds, we're still standing."

"So is Geralt," Kain murmured. "So is Yennefer. Zoltan, Triss, Dandelion. Special power is not the ultimate guarantee of anything, Ciri. I would've died regardless of it, had you and Geralt not gotten there in time. I'd be dead now."

"But we did get there in time. Because I felt you," she said, her eyes alight with the memory of it. "Because we're the same. I think we are destined to be together." She leaned back in her chair, regarding him calmly. "You just can't see it yet."

"We are together," Kain said. "You and Geralt are my family. Maybe that was destined. Being mates cannot be destined - it's a choice."

Ciri shook her head. "You don't see it yet," she repeated. "You don't see what I do. But you will. In time."

If it came to it, Ciri would make him. If he only got a taste... A taste of how good they could have it, he would change his mind. He would want her.

Her determination was worrying, but it was natural for a hurt heart to seek a way to cope. He sighed and made no response.

"There's nothing precise in what he tells me," Geralt said, settling at their table. "There was a blind woman with sight in either Benek or Toderas - he doesn't know for certain."

"The boatmaker told me she lived in Drudge as far as he heard," Kain said.

"It's two separate ends," the Witcher sighed, and considered them. "We might need to part to save time."

"Then we part," Ciri agreed. "The bitch can't hide forever."

Ciri hadn't liked Thecla when they last met and she doubted it would be different this time around. The old woman had made her feel uneasy. And no wonder, she worshipped the Crones, after all.

"I can ask people in Drudge," Kain said. "In Oreton they also mentioned a crone from Drudge that helped women. No one recalled whether she was blind."

"All right," said Geralt. "I'll take the east and those two villages."

"I'll go with you," Ciri told Kain.

It wasn't just that she wanted to spend time with him, to try and change his mind. The memory of him disappearing into The Crone's trap was still fresh in mind, frightening her more than she liked. She didn't want him to be alone.

The Witcher observed them with mild curiosity and turned his attention to the meal a maid brought. She was setting down the plates with baked chicken and potatoes, bowls of pickled tomatoes, and a pitcher of mead, smiling bewitchingly at Geralt and Kain.

Kain didn't object, so Ciri felt a little easier.

Until the serving wench eyed him like he was a particular juicy steak she couldn't wait to devour. Ciri briefly contemplated making use of the cutlery the maid had brought her moments earlier. In fact, she imagined how lovely her knife would look sticking out of the maid's ample chest.

But she managed to rule down her temper and instead reached for Kain's hand across the table, drawing his attention. "You don't mind me coming with, do you?"

The maid's smile faded ever so slightly as she hurried away to tend to other customers.

A shiver ran down his back at her touch he couldn't quite decipher. "I don't," he said.

"It's me and Roach, then," Geralt said, faking a sad sigh as he cut into the chicken.

Ciri snorted with mirth at Geralt's comment, withdrawing her hand. "Oh, please, you would marry that horse if you could."

"There have been too many to marry," he retorted.

"The current one suits you well."

Ciri pulled her plate towards herself so she could start eating.

"So, if and when we find Thecla, what is the plan? What do we do if she does not want to talk?"

"We'll have to decide it when we're there," the Witcher said.

"And if we," she gestured to Kain and herself, "find her before you do?"

"Wait for me, I'll join you."

Ciri ate in silence for a while, outwardly concentrating on her food while her thoughts were miles away. When she resurfaced, a new question had come to mind.

"Are you sure it is safe for you to go to those villages alone?" she asked Geralt. "The people there favored The Crones, did they not? Won't they be furious by their demise?"

"Those two villages are far enough from the bog," he said. "Besides, I'm not going to inform them of it."

"What of the bog and the remaining hut?" Kain asked. "Are we burning it or not?"

The Witcher looked uncertain. "Do we need to?"

"Couldn't hurt." Ciri shrugged, taking a sip from her cup. "We can make absolutely certain none of their artifacts remain behind."

"Then it's the first thing we will do," Kain said. "Burn the hut and sweep the perimeter for any more invasions of the Hunt."

"All right," Geralt said. "Do that. And I shall go to those two villages in the east, see what they know."

"It's a plan," Ciri said, pleased they were finally getting back to the matter at hand – The Crones. And by association, The Hunt.

She watched Geralt and Kain eat, having already finished her own meal. And she grew impatient, letting them know by her occasional judgmental stares.

Geralt gave her a mock stern stare, chewing. "I'm old, I need more time for pleasures still left in my life, good food being one of them."

It had been the same way back at Kaer Morhen. The witchers always took too long with their meals when they could have been teaching her something exciting.

Whenever they caught Ciri complaining, however, Lambert would always send her outside to do the most boring of grunt-work. So she'd learned to keep quiet.

Most of the time.

"You're lucky we're not in Toussaint," the Witcher remarked, sneering, cutting another piece of chicken breast under a crust of pepper and garlic. "Their feasting tables are extremely difficult to get away from."

"As well as beds, they say," murmured Kain, amused.

Geralt chuckled, "Dandelion would tell many tales on that."

"Oh, I'm sure I could manage," Ciri said with an air of confidence. "Well, if I embraced my royal title at least. No one would dare stand in my way if I wanted to leave dinner early then." She gave Geralt a sly smile. "Except you, of course."

Geralt peered at her with cunning eyes. "I wouldn't be at court to discipline you, little princess."

"No? You'd be the only one who could do so without losing his head."

The Witcher shook his head, biting into a potato. "Harsh." He glanced at Kain, "Has Fringilla convinced you to visit Toussaint?"

"Not right away, no. And I'm sure she aimed that more at you than me."

Geralt clicked his tongue. "With sorceresses, there's nothing certain when it comes to their flirting and invitations."

"Unless you sense more than they voice," said Kain, sipping mead.

Ciri scowled. "What is it with sorceresses and witchers? Are you the only ones able to satisfy their needs?"

Geralt shrugged his shoulders briefly, forking another potato to dip it in grease collected on the bottom of the plate. "We're a disappearing kind, and many are curious whether all those insane rumors people think out are true. Mostly, mages want what they want, driven by their own fantasies."

"You slept with her," Ciri remarked, sipping her drink. "Fringilla, I mean. I saw you."

Geralt's eyes flicked to her and lingered for a long moment as he tried to perceive how it could have been possible. "How did you see it?"

Ciri was not exactly certain how the visions had come to be, but she knew them to be true.

"I saw many things when I entered Tor Zireael. You and Fringilla were one of them. Of course, I did not know who she was at the time."

The Witcher nodded; it explained a lot. As well as her blood and inclination toward visions.

"She was very enchanting, as well as the whole atmosphere," he said. "At some point, I saw no sense in resistance."

"And now?" Ciri asked, curious. "Does she invoke the same emotions?"

Geralt drank his mead fill and reached for the pitcher to pour himself more. "She hasn't changed, nor has her attitude," he said. "The sight of her does bring warm memories."

Ciri didn't like that in the least, but she tried not to let it show.

"It's a shame the sight of Yennefer no longer brings the same feeling."

"I wouldn't state such thing," the Witcher argued, wiping the oil with a half of a potato. "We've been good with each other. At least until she tries to enforce things I don't remember the same way she does."

"She merely gets impatient," Kain said quietly, finishing his meal. "It's hard to rule down one's jealousy."

"Nothing I do seems enough to put her at ease," Geralt said. "Sometimes she behaves like it was my choice to forget rather than her games with a djinn. She's expecting me to be the man she knows, but I don't even know what it was like. She tells me things I don't recall and wants me to remember, but I can't, and it frustrates us both. It's hard."

"It would be less harsh on her if her fellow sorceresses weren't competing for your attention at all times." Ciri regarded Geralt. "You still have your fondest memories of Triss and Fringilla. But not the ones of Yen. That gives them the advantage and probably makes her feel scared for her place in your heart."

She dared a glance at Kain.

"It's hard to be vulnerable. Tell someone you love them and... know they don't feel the same."

Kain lowered his gaze to stare at his plate, wiping at the oil with a slice of potato.

"Let's be fair," Geralt said, looking up at Ciri. "As far as I gathered, she doubted our love, did she not? That is why the whole story with the djinn happened - because she was ready to dismiss it if by some chance it turned out to be a spell product. And now it's all suddenly my fault when I can't confirm what she wants me to."

"I'm not blaming you in the slightest. Nor, as far as I know, does Yennefer. I do, however, feel irked by certain other women swooping in like vultures because they sense the bond you once shared with Yennefer is weakened."

Ciri met Geralt's gaze.

"Perhaps I am biased because I see Yennefer as a mother. Or because when we were all apart, I imagined returning to the two of you. Together. A mother, father, and child." She shrugged, a little uncomfortable. "But the fantasies of youth are often shattered. Whether you and Yennefer end up together or apart, it won't change my love for either of you. You are my family. And I am never letting you go again."

"Regardless of what happens, Ciri, you won't lose either of us," Geralt said. "Nor are we going to lose you. That shall not happen ever again. Whatever is the cost."

Kain toyed with his cup, deep in thought, the remaining mead sloshing inside it.

Ciri smiled, comforted by Geralt's reassurances. It was nice to know he would fight as hard for her as she would for him.

"Shall we get to work then?"

Geralt sighed, finished his mead, and looked between his companions. Kain nodded and got up.

Roach wasn't thrilled to continue their journey, but the Witcher wasn't up for tolerating disobedience and hit her with an Axii that guaranteed a peaceful stretch of the road.

They rode together for a while and parted in the vicinity of Lurtch. Geralt rode on toward Toderas, and Kain with Ciri took south toward the bog.

* * *

They rode side by side, silence stretching between them as well as the accompanied awkwardness. At least in Ciri's mind. Kain's face was still annoyingly hard to read.

They were close to entering the bog when Ciri finally spoke.

"Had you heard of The Crones before you met us? Were there tales of them where you come from?"

They trotted along the narrow road hiding amidst the thickening grass, and the evening fog began to get denser around the horses' hooves.

"Of course I've heard of the three guardians of the bog people worshipped," he said. "I never had to deal with it, nor visit the bog itself."

"I don't think I was ever told of them," Ciri admitted. "I can't remember."

But it was fascinating to know how renowned the old hags had been.

"I wonder what they were like when they were young. Our age. Surely they would have had to been at some point. I wonder if they had parents? Or if the earth itself birthed them."

"Legend has it there was one Lady of the Wood at first. She came from far away and settled here. She made three daughters out of dirt and water. She became the guardian of the land.

"Yet as the years passed, the Lady of the Wood slipped deeper and deeper into madness. Her madness eventually spread over the land - men took to abandoning their homes and setting out into the bog, where they became food for beasts. Before long, Velen was drowning in blood.

"The daughters saw their land nearing destruction and decided to save it. When spring came once more, and with it the night sacrifices, they killed their mother and buried her in the bog. Her spirit was trapped in the roots of an old tree where it could no longer harm anyone."

"Descent into madness...because of her power, you think?"

"Hard to say where the urge to protect turns into the drive to destroy," Kain mused.


	74. Chapter 74

"Ah, Yennefer!" Dandelion was hurrying to her through the aisle between the tall bookshelves that filled the vast Academy library. "Does your presence mean that the banks matter is resolved? Triss told me Dijkstra painted you the thief."

Upon arriving at Oxenfurt, Yennefer had secured herself a room at the _Three Little Bells_ inn and sent a message to Dandelion to meet her at the library.

"The overstuffed peacock tried his utmost. Geralt managed to find evidence of the Wild Hunt being the true offenders."

Dandelion gasped. "The Hunt? Is that truly so? But why the banks? How interested could they be in this world's money?"

"All reputable questions. However, they were too dead to be cross-examined and all that could be done was to speculate. Gratefully, Geralt's argument was adequate."

She crooked her index finger and one of the books from the shelf launched itself at Dandelion like an eager puppy.

"There's a lot of tomes we have to go through, you might take care to get started or we'll be here until you're old and gray."

Dandelion jumped away from the book, and it fell on the floor with a loud plop and a puff of dust. The poet observed it warily as if it would attack had he failed to watch out.

"I... I'm not so good with searching though volumes," he said, wincing at the thought of all that dust settling on his clothes and hair. "Perhaps you need to call Triss for company. Or Shani - had she not been busy in her clinic..."

Yennefer's lips twitched with amusement. She'd expected Dandelion's resistance but she'd been ready to embrace it.

"Triss is occupied. I only have you. As a poet, I thought you'd be open to the idea of learning new words and otherworldly interests—it's for a good cause."

"It's more on the side of gaining too much information that would push the things I need out of my head." He leaned against a shelf, arms folded, and regarded her pensively. "How are things with Geralt?"

"He's well." Yennefer glanced down at the book she'd been skimming for information, trying to gauge if there was anything of use within. "But you know that, you only just celebrated with him the night before. Are you concerned?"

"It's not him I'm concerned with, but rather what's between you and him. Do you think you can remedy whatever happened in his head?"

"Do you think I can? That it's possible to do it without any outside magical influence?"

Dandelion blinked, flabbergasted. "How would I know those things? It's magic - your field of expertise, isn't it? You tell me if you can change it? Maybe undo that wish or whatever you did?"

"I'm well aware of where your abilities lie," Yennefer retorted, her eyes lifting momentarily to fix on his face dully. "I was asking from your perspective as his friend. I assume he still confides in you?"

Dandelion scoffed, "He's got a brother now. I bet my lute he knows more than I do these days. However..." He rubbed his neck, eyeballing the stacks of books pensively. "We had little to no time for any heart to heart discussions of his delicate situation with you and your djinn. We haven't been able to address it. He's also reluctant to speak of it, as if annoyed of any reminders."

Yennefer nodded. "I'm not so sure it's as much the reminders, as it is the fact that he can't remember, and thereby grows frustrated. Geralt beseeched that I be patient. Which I've tried to be. Nevertheless, whenever I offer up some history in hopes of stirring feelings or conversation, it seems too much for him to handle. He's defensive. As if he's afraid. And then, at other times, it's as if nothing has changed, as if he can sense what's between us. It's all very confusing and he doesn't seem very enthusiastic to clear it up."

She scowled and flipped her book closed, decided it had nothing she was looking for, and rose up to seek out another title.

Dandelion absorbed the insight, frowning. "What do you want him to clear up when he doesn't remember? No wonder he gets frustrated. I get frustrated myself! You two have been an inspiration for the whole Continent! What are people going to do if you don't remedy it!"

Laughter bubbled from Yennefer's lips before she could will herself to stop it. It wasn't often that she found humor in anything Dandelion had to say.

When she had calmed down, her cheeks were wet and her eyes itchy. She swiped at the tears, ridding her features of the hysterical proof, internally chiding herself for the show of emotion in front of the troubadour, straightening her back as she plucked another book from the shelf.

"You mean, what are _you_ going to do if we can't remedy our situation? I'm sure an acclaimed poet such as yourself will find a story to twist to suit the desires of his audience. You've never shied away from embellishments. Why should now be any different?"

"That's callous of you, Yennefer," he reprimanded. "I always wished the best for your story! It's famed throughout the world because of how fervently I felt about it. It pains me to think of it being lost!"

Yennefer sought to read his expression with renewed interest, surprised that Dandelion appeared to be sincere in his response and wasn't purely fluffing his feathers.

"Rest assured you do not suffer alone in that agony," Yennefer replied, sighing softly. She turned the book over in her hand and flipped it open without really seeing the written words. "As much as I'd like to remedy that hurt with more magic, I fear that the choice will push him even further away."

Dandelion sobered, preoccupied. "How could that happen? What magic are you going to use?"

Yennefer debated what to tell him. The situation wasn't ideal but she craved to talk, to be understood, and had no one else with whom she could do that. Despite the glaring inconvenience, she liked Dandelion. He was a good friend to her Witcher and she doubted he'd ever give cause to deliberately hurt Geralt.

"I find myself compelled to remind you that what is said stays between the two of us. If I find out you have breathed a word of it to our Witcher, I can't be held responsible for what I might do."

Yennefer didn't wait for his acknowledgment before she continued.

"During my initial studies of the djinn, it came to my attention that I can use one to undo the failure of another. Although that particular outlook didn't supply me with the positive outcome I had hoped for, I'm considering a second attempt – a restoration, if you will, of the previous wish or his memories. Only, I have no idea which…"

* * *

"Perhaps they are one and the same, those urges," Ciri said. "Destroying to protect. Attacking instead of waiting to defend. I have certainly felt like that is the way to go at times."

"Too much of a good thing can harm," Kain said. "But even so, protection and destruction are not the same. When you smother and destroy something while wishing to protect - it's an ill way to go about it. And it's still destruction, no matter the initial intention."

"If you say so."

The bog looked as grey and drained of life as the last time Ciri had visited, and if possible, the mud seemed to have attracted an even worse stench.

Kain and Ciri got off their mounts in front of the orphanage. Kelpie seemed uneasy. Ciri didn't know why. The mare hadn't been present during the destruction of The Crones or The Hunt spies.

"Shall we take a look inside or simply torch the place?" Ciri asked, gesturing to the mostly-destroyed temple before them.

"I'll look," he said and went in.

It looked cold and felt abandoned, lifeless, bleak. Everything seemed to have lost all natural color and were but a fog mirage. A few wooden boxes, a couple of sacks in the corners stinking of rotten potatoes. A few cots, also beginning to rot and mold.

Kain closed his eyes and probed for energy. It felt as empty as it looked.

Ciri didn't give him long before she followed, eyeing the hut with mild curiosity.

She stretched her arms above her head and yawned softly. "Well, the décor is atrocious but I can't deny the atmosphere of the place is quite soothing. I can see why the children liked it."

He looked at her with doubt. "Their preference of this barn over hunger and the open sky doesn't mean they liked it here."

"Why wouldn't they?" Ciri asked. "You know, up until The Crones decided to claim them."

"This place doesn't feel cozy," he said. "It means less, however, when you have food and company instead of hunger, loneliness, and no roof to sleep under."

"Feels fine to me." She took another glance around the hut. "So... shall we set fire to this shack and dance to the flames?"

A faint frown passed through his features, but he chose not to comment on the dancing part.

"Yes, we shall."

They went out and stood facing the hut. He looked at her.

"Do you wish to do it?"

"Together?" Ciri offered Kain her hand, a small smile playing on her lips.

She was curious about what they'd be able to do were they ever to truly combine their powers. This would not yield impressive enough results. But it was a start.

He smirked. "I wouldn't want to reduce the whole marsh to ashes. So, go gently."

He took her hand and extended his free one toward the hut, focusing.

The very thought they actually could accomplish such a feat made Ciri excited. A jolt of desire shot straight to her core.

She tried to tamper it, squeezed Kain's hand, and released the fire that had been building inside her.

It escaped them like a steady flow of flames shooting straight for the wooden building and quickly engulfing it.

Ciri giggled with delight, bouncing lightly on her feet, the raging fire casting both her and Kain in an orange hue.

Something strange happened in Ciri, he felt it - a misplaced ghost of arousal at the surge of magic he had never experienced before.

He released her hand, puzzled, gauging her. She looked content. Too much so. And a subtle blush adorned her cheeks.

It took Ciri a moment to realize he was watching her.

"What?" she asked with a small laugh for she could not understand the look on his face.

He shook his head, "Nothing." He gauged the sky and went to his horse. "It's getting dark in an hour or so. We'll have to patrol the bog and seek a place to spend the night."

Ciri took one last look at the blazing fire, then followed.

"Patrol for drowners and hags? Perhaps they are simply fleeing the bog altogether and that is why they attack the settlements."

"Aen Elle," he said, hopping into Onyx's back. "We need to make sure no new groups arrived."

* * *

Dandelion made a hissing sound, his mien reflecting raging disbelief. "Do you truly think it's wise to use yet another djinn? Look at what's happened already! What if you still can make it worse, even if it doesn't look like it can be any worse - what then? You'll find a fourth djinn?!"

Yennefer absorbed his outrage. He wasn't wrong about the possibilities of it all going wrong. It already had.

"Possibly," she answered calmly. "Or I leave it and hope that in time he'll remember on his own and he'll find love for me again. True love."

All those old insecurities she'd thought she'd handled returned like a cruel wave. Was that even possible? She'd never thought herself the type to love or be loved, and even though they'd shared that, said it out loud to one another a handful of times, it wasn't until the boat incident that she'd truly believed it – believed herself. Only it wasn't that simple, was it? Yennefer might have loved him, but Geralt didn't really love her, did he?

It was all a spell, and the loss of his memory proved as much.

"Do you think that's likely?"

"The poet in me - which is my true self and essence - yearns to think so," Dandelion said. "But given all the magic dumped on his head by that djinn and maybe before... What if it all came together and stole the most precious thing from his soul?" He clucked his tongue, reflecting, and shook his head slowly. "I don't know, Yennefer. It's hard to judge when even you're at a loss about what truly happened. Who would know..."

His eyes snapped back to her, wide and sparkly.

"What if you try an oneiromancer? He told me he knew one in Novigrad. He used her help while searching for Ciri and me."

"To seek an outside help of that kind is to assume it's what Geralt wants. I'm not too sure he does. Why would he, when he doesn't even know what he has lost? Out of obligation?"

She grimaced as though someone had slapped her.

"Does it hurt so much to ask his opinion?" the troubadour inquired, amused by her stung pride. "It's his head to be messed with, after all. He has a say in the matter." He narrowed his eyes, "Or did he mention to you that he doesn't want to remember?"

Geralt hadn't come out and said it wasn't what he wanted, only that he didn't remember. His earlier reaction, however, had been enough for her to assume.

"No, he never said it directly. All he has requested is patience. However, he has offered up no solutions either. Every time we're alone, Geralt doesn't know how to deal with the subject and I don't want to push it in fear of making him withdraw. As things are progressing, I don't logically see us being able to tend to the problem until after the Wild Hunt has been dealt with."

And who knew what would happen until then?

"But of course he offers no solution," the poet scoffed. "He truly has none! Nor would I had it been me in his stead. We're no mages."

"And thus far he hasn't encouraged me to find one either."

Dandelion folded his arms, both perplexed and ironic. "And what kind of encouragement would you like to receive from him? A plea? A lover's smack to your behind, perhaps?"

"Nothing that crass. Words would do. A humble 'I want to know you, Yen'." Her features twisted dreamily as she smiled to herself. "Not that he has the most notable aptitude for romance."

She gently shook her head and returned her focus to the titles in front of her.

Dandelion smiled a bit condescendingly. He couldn't believe he saw that sort of dependence on things she had believed to be silly before, the kind of romantic urges that mostly younger women possessed.

"Did it occur to you even once that every time he went to bed with you it meant exactly what you longed him to say?" He chuckled. "He's rather a man of action than words, and you always knew it."

"Are you planning to return to Novigrad soon?" Yennefer asked.

"I would return to Novigrad, naturally, if you take me when you go," he said. "Geralt took my Pegasus last time and I can't walk there."

"We're set to meet there in two days," Yennefer commented, removing a second book that she stacked on her arm and held close to her chest like a sleeping child. She fell silent, mulling over what Dandelion had claimed she should have read in their lovemaking.

Geralt was no stranger to sex, the joys of passion, and what it could bring. Was Yennefer supposed to believe that there was more to it when Geralt couldn't even remember her? When the mere mention of past dread was enough to make Geralt look at her like she'd wounded him in the worst possible way? She didn't doubt that in the past Dandelion had a good rapport of their relationship and that he possibly knew more than even she did at times, but in this instance, he was going on history – on a past – that according to Geralt himself didn't exist. That was well and truly lost.

She sighed and moved to take a seat on the floor against the stacks.

"Unless you plan on helping me get through these volumes, I believe it's time I focus."

"Of course," he said, smiling to himself, and turned to leave, then lingered a moment, regarding her. "Out of you two, you are the one who knows what he's lost. Think about it, Yennefer. Do you wish to get him back or do you really wish to lose it, too? Only unlike him, you will not forget. Never. Meditate on it."

Yennefer set her gaze on the troubadour's back, seriously considering his final words, a small smile crooking her mouth once more as she returned to scan the script open on her lap.

* * *

Ciri swung herself up into the saddle, secretly hoping the Aen Elle had come again. She was itching for a good fight.

"To the same place their fellow elves were killed? Would that be wise? If they mean to be stealthy, they failed."

"We still don't know how their navigation works," he said, sending the horse into a trot, "what they latch on to get to a specific location. If they have something that helps them come here, it might still remain so, even if the Crones are gone. It would take the land a while to cleanse itself from the residue of their magic."

"I wonder why The Crones would cater to Eredin and his riders," Ciri mused. "They had so much power. Why would they bow down to any man?"

"Their power wasn't limitless. They were bound to a specific place and depended on people for any additional fuel for their charms. They literally couldn't leave the bog. Their magic is very dense, earthly, dependent on sacrifices and blood and flesh of their followers' children, as well as their worshipping. Elves can do so much more with their magic and knowledge. It's not something the Crones needed from Aen Elle, I believe. It's rather to ensure their own domain. Trying to buy their place and its independence in case of the full intrusion of their army."

"Survival," Ciri mused. It made sense.

When Ciri had been The Crones' prisoner for a brief time and overheard their conversations, they had sounded almost frightened when they spoke of Imlerith.

Despite their great power they'd been forced to serve the elves. And they'd been bitter about it. Ciri didn't blame them for that. She knew all too well what it was like to be used.

They rode to the edge of the bog, on the opposite side of where they had entered, and circled back. Dusk had fallen and made it harder to see, to distinguish shrubs and saplings from actual creatures.

But as for anything alive - beast or man - they saw nothing.

The stars began to twinkle on the darkening blue skies when they rode to the hill where the old oak was still standing. Instead of a dried out dead tree, they saw a magnificent canopy of new green leaves that whispered and rustled in the wind. A pack of wolves was in the vicinity, watching them with alarm and interest from the shrubs.

"We should see inside the cave," Kain said. "This is the place they trapped their mother."

"I thought Geralt killed her?" Ciri asked, slowly sliding off Kelpie's back. "Was she not the evil spirit he talked about?"

"He did. We're here to check for anything that wasn't supposed to be - any new stirrings of power." He pondered a moment on how to explain. "Even if they're gone, they might have left something behind, like a sort of an anchor to their magic. With two other Crones gone, it was the Weavess herself who held their magic to revive it. Now with all of them perished, it might be something else, an artifact or a residue that might still give out some weak signals. We will have to destroy it so the land could heal."

"I understand," Ciri said, loosening Kelpie's bit to allow her a reprieve.

Smiling happily, Ciri took Kain's hand and led him towards the entrance of the cave. The more time they spent together, the more of a chance she had to make him see the error of his ways.

Some strange thrill coursed through Ciri and traveled through her hand to his like an electrical current. He felt uneasy but didn't try to shake her grip.

It was dark inside the cave, and it helped her to be guided by him. It was eerily quiet, not even water dripped anywhere in the depths. They came to the pool, and Kain summoned a small globe of light to take a look around. He let go of Ciri and crouched in front of the water. A thin veil of steam was coiling over its mirror-like black surface. He dipped a hand in it and pulled something out, demonstrating it to Ciri: a smooth transparent piece of melting ice.

"It's recent," he whispered. "It hasn't fully melted yet."

Ciri crouched beside him, her head tilted to the side. "Does that mean... The Hunt?" she asked, suddenly feeling the need to throw a glance over her shoulder.

In the dim lighting, the stalactite up above looked like winged bats hanging upside down, glaring down at them with hungry eyes. Though that was most likely all in Ciri's vivid imagination.

"Their portals have been here somewhere," he said, keeping his voice down to a barely audible whisper. "Probably in the very cave. If we swim, there might still be ice. We'll have to warm the water, very discreetly."

"Why discreetly?" Ciri whispered, mirroring his action of keeping his voice low. "You think they still linger?"

"I think it's a very nice hiding place - no one likes coming here. Thus they might be there, or not - but there's more than one way to find out." He swept a finger over the water, peering at Ciri. "Water absorbs and keeps information. It knows if they're there. Try to ask it."

Ciri leaned forward and, slightly hesitant, dipped her fingers into the water. It was cold, even on the very surface. A cold that sent a shiver down her spine and made her skin erupt in gooseflesh.

She withstood the urge to pull back and instead focused, keeping her eyes open, fixed on how her fingers looked distorted beneath the water.

The words she used were not voiced aloud but in Ciri's head, Elder Speech asking access to the memory of the water itself. At first, there was nothing.

But when she asked a second and third time, images flooded her head. She stilled, allowing herself to absorb everything shown to her, to memorize every detail before she resurfaced.

Pulling back, she wiped her hand on her trousers.

"They were here. Three of them. The ones I encountered in the bog. I saw no others."

Kain frowned. "Two weeks ago. Too long for it to stay frozen. It's cool down here, but it's not winter. Highly unlikely."

"You give it a go then," Ciri grumbled, trying to get some feeling into her fingers again.

He dipped his hands into the water, closed his eyes, focusing.

"Doesn't seem that there's anyone still there," he murmured after a while.

He flexed his fingers and gathered his focus again, establishing the flow of magic to his palms. In a few moments they began to warm up, then heat started to seep into the water.

"So then why is it so cold still?" Ciri removed her weapons and left them on the rocky floor. If they were going swimming, she didn't want to be weighed down more than necessary.

"It was another group that came later," he said, trying not to lose his focus while the heat spread further through the pool melting the remaining ice. "I don't know where they are now. But looking at the cave might help."

Ciri peered down into the water. It was impossible to see how deep it was, so diving in head-first would be a bad idea.

She swung her legs in front of her and dipped them, throwing a playful look Kain's way before sliding in completely and disappearing beneath the surface.

Even with Kain's ministrations, the water was still quite cold deep down. And Ciri couldn't see much. She had to use her hands to feel along the rocks to her sides, over and beneath, pulling herself forward towards their intended destination.

When he felt there was no more ice left, he took off his jerkin and sword belt, and slipped into the water after Ciri. He sucked in a deep breath and dove following her in the narrow submerged tunnel with roots snaking across the rocks.

Ciri held her breath and when her lungs began to burn, she shot for the surface with her powers, aiming for the light coming through from the cave upstairs.

She gasped for air once she broke the surface and rested an arm on the perch up ahead, pulling herself up only once she'd ensured Kain was right behind her and not lost in the dark waters.

What met them was a spacious cavern filled with green ferns and tree roots along the walls.

"Cozy," Ciri commented, and there was some truth to her words. She felt quite at home in the cave. She'd spent the night in much worse places when on the run with Avallac'h.

Kain stole through a short stony corridor and jumped onto the earthly floor of the cave, taking a good look around. Ferns grew in bunches on the ground, roots and vines snaked along the walls and hung from the protruding rocks and the tall ceiling like thick tentacles. It was quiet and smelled of autumn leaves and wet rocks.

They went deeper into the cave and found nothing live in there, among the roots in a cavity where the cursed spirit had resided until Geralt had put an end to it.

Kain picked up some murky residual energy, but it wasn't pulsing with any renewed vigor. The evil spirit was truly gone.

"What do you feel?" Kain asked Ciri, regarding her.

Ciri wandered for a bit, eyeing the ceiling and nature's decorations that hung from it like streamers.

"Comfortable," she said eventually. It was the first word that had come to mind. "Why? What do you feel?"

He was surprised: comfortable wasn't what came to his mind.

He shrugged, "Nothing specific. The spirit is gone, some dirty energy remains, but not forever."

He strolled around, probing for anything that remotely resembled the Riders.

"There's something strange," he said. "I can't understand what it is, exactly... Some kind of subtle magic remaining."

Ciri closed her eyes and tried to feel for what Kain had sensed. But she couldn't feel anything. She supposed he was simply more in tune with magic overall.

"We could spend the night here," she proposed. "It's warm enough and fairly dry."

She'd have to go back for their weapons, of course. Couldn't leave them unattended.

"It might not be a good idea," he said, still searching for the source of what he was picking up. "It's been a prison for a dark essence, and sleeping in this place can still poison us a bit. We'll find a better place to stay."

"Poison us?" Ciri leaned down to pick off a blade on a fern, examining it between her fingers. "Is it truly that potent?"

"You're more susceptible while you sleep. Any wrong energy can harm you. It's important to sleep in cleaner places."

He stopped in front of the cavity with his hand held out, closing his eyed. It could be there...

"Mm," she hummed in mild agreement. "I suppose it was too much to ask, having a cave to ourselves again. Like on Skellige."

"There are other caves," he murmured, his fingers bending as if he was clawing something from the air. Something shuffled inside the dark cavity, some roots snapped, stone cracked.

Something small and white floated from the dark into his palm.

He lit a fire before him on the ground and crouched to study his findings.

It was an oval stone, white and sparkling. Something was carved into it. He brushed the dirt away and saw a cameo of a young woman's profile. Her pointy ear peeked from flowing hair.

"It's their beacon," he guessed. "No way to tell how long it's been here. Maybe since that Sabbath on the Bald Mountain."

Ciri approached him to look over his shoulder. And when she got a glance she stepped around to take it from his hands.

"A beacon to guide the Aen Elle to our world?" Ciri mused quietly, studying the carving. Definitely an elf. Most likely Aen Elle.

"To guide them to this particular area, to this cave." He peered at her. "She looks like you."

"It looks like Lara. My great-something-or-other grandmother," she said softly. "To the Aen Elle she was... something ethereal. Someone beloved. Even to this day."

"If Eredin is capable of love, it's probably fully focused on his own person," Kain said. "This thing is for those who serve him. To represent the noble cause they could die for."

Ciri stared at Lara's image for a long time before she spoke again.

"How do we destroy it?"

"Do we need to?" he asked quietly, squinting at her in thought. "With this, we would know where to expect their arrival. However, I bet there are more of those hidden in other places. But it's hard to catch the Riders for interrogation, as well as hard to find these beacons on our own... unless we have a sample. That is, I assume they contain the same magic, and one can help locate the others."

"To have them suddenly teleport to us, surprising everyone including ourselves?" Ciri smiled crookedly, running her thumb over the carving. "Risky. I like it."

"I don't, but it's smarter than destroying this one we've found before we at least try to find others. If we manage to get them all... If we don't succeed in finding the Sunstone, all those beacons kept together could provide a similar sort of magic to summon them all to one place."

"Clever boy." She smiled slightly, giving the stone one last look before stowing it away in her cleavage. "We keep it then. Shall we get back to the horses?"

His gaze followed her movement, he quickly averted it, swallowing. "Yes, we should," he nodded, and waved a hand toward the pool - 'after you'.

She'd caught the look and inwardly felt smug. So... there was some interest there, after all.

"We could take the easy way," she offered, holding out her hand. "Unless you'd rather we get all wet again."

"If I were certain that your magic wouldn't trigger the beacon," he raised an eyebrow in a mock challenge. "I don't know how it works."

"Too scared to find out?" She wriggled her fingers in invitation.

"Being cautious doesn't mean being scared," he said. "And you're being reckless. Is it worth it? Do you want them to attack - as you put it - surprising us?"

"Reckless. How many times have I heard that," she laughed, though there was a tint of bitterness to her voice. "Fine. Let's swim."

She headed for the pool of water without any further hesitation.

"Wait," he caught her by the sleeve. "I think there is another way out we can make for ourselves."

He went to another wall covered with roots and fungi, and closed his eyes, placing his palms firmly on the rocks. Magic flowed through his fingers and the centers of his palms into the stones and plants in mute communication.

When he felt no pressure under his hands, he called for Ciri: "Grab my shoulder and keep very close behind me and don't think."

When he felt her touch, he slowly began to walk into the stone wall as if it were but a mirage.

_Don't think._ That was easier said than done

Ciri distracted herself with how firm and solid Kain's shoulder felt beneath her hand as she followed him towards the wall.

Unlike before, she definitely felt magic now. It tingled against the palm of her hand and shot up her arm, down her body, and straight to her core.

They slipped through the wall with deceptive ease. Even so, Ciri tightened her hold on Kain's shoulder, grasping him with a possessive need.

It felt good to touch him. Even such a simple thing like this. If Ciri had any doubts about whether or not she and Kain were meant to be, they all evaporated now. He was meant to be hers. No matter if he wanted to or not.

They stepped out in a valley bottom at the foot of the hill. Kain bent over, gasping, his solar plexus and lower parts of his lungs were burning as if he was stabbed. He crouched, breathing eagerly through the pain.

Ciri frowned, following Kain's journey to the ground with a confused gaze. "What's wrong?"

He didn't answer until the pain had dissipated to a bearable level where he could stand upright and breathe fine.

He regarded her with a confused suspicion. "What did you do? Through your touch?"

The fact he took so long to recover scared her ever so slightly. Had he overdone it with his magic?

"What do you mean? You told me not to think. So I tried not to."

He took a few more long, calming breaths, eyeing her, then said, "Never mind," and clicked his tongue calling Onyx.

The stallion came trotting from around the hillside, Kelpie in tow.

"Get on," Kain told Ciri. "I'll bring our swords."

"Are you hurt?" she asked, her brow still furrowed. "If so, I should go fetch our swords."

"I'm fine," he said, walking away toward the cave entrance. "I'll get them."

When he got there, he stilled for a moment to heal the remaining discomforts. He didn't want to think Ciri could've done this consciously, but it was still alarming she had such a harmful touch. He put on his jerkin and sword belt, thinking about that mummified Rider from the bog. He was fairly certain it was a similar kind of magic she used to do it.

Draining him of life.

He sighed and went back to where she was waiting with the horses.

"Men are strange," Ciri muttered into Kelpie's neck when Kain left.

The mare made a sound Ciri interpreted as agreement. Ciri climbed up into the saddle and waited, taking her weapon from Kain when returned and fastened it to her body.

"Where to now?"

"To where we can get some sleep," he said.

Within an hour, he led them to the Reardon manor. Dolores was about to go to bed when he knocked on her door.

"Oh, it's you, Witcher," she smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm terrible with names." She observed Ciri with brief interest, wrapping a shawl around herself.

"We need your permission to spend the night in the barn," Kain said.

"Oh, you're still investigating the swamps? It's terrible! So close... I still can't forget those wraiths invading my home... Of course, you can. The key is under the rock there. But," she looked at Ciri, "maybe your lady friend would like an actual bed? I have a guest house that sits empty." She waved a hand indicating the one across the yard.

"No, thank you. I go where he goes," Ciri told the woman with a smile.

She eyed Kain curiously. Had this been part of his 'contract'? Was that what had been keeping him while Geralt went to Novigrad?

Ciri noticed the woman watching them with mild skepticism, as though she was unsure whether or not she should allow an unmarried couple to sleep together.

"For safety, you know?" Ciri pressed.

"Oh... of course!" the woman nodded, seemingly rethinking her earlier concerns. "Make yourselves at home."

Kain found the key under one of the boulders piled at the barn and unlocked the doors. He pulled the chains and the lock out from the handles and let Ciri in.

The barn was huge, with an attic and a ladder leading there. In the depth, there was a heap of hay. Onyx and Kelpie huddled in the opposite corner with a smaller heap, and Kain took off the sword belt, his jerkin, and the shirt - lay it on the hay to dry.

"You've been here before, I take it?"

Ciri removed her weapons as well as her jerkin. The shirt she wore beneath was still damp, but she didn't mind as much.

"With Geralt," he confirmed, getting comfortable on his side of the heap. "He returned the manor to her, cleansed it of wraiths, and she didn't forget it. We stopped here to get a cart she didn't use - to bring survivors to Lindenvale."

"You never think of witchers being social. But they get to know so many people on their travels. It must be fascinating."

Ciri lay down beside him, shifting until she found a comfortable position on the hay. It wasn't so bad.

"For those who like to get to know many people," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"You don't seem to be doing too bad lately."

"I wouldn't have made a decent spy without being good at it. Doesn't mean I enjoy it."

"Is there no one whose company you enjoy, then?" she asked, arms folded beneath her head, gaze on the ceiling. "Only Griffin's?"

"I meant new people," he murmured. "Not my family."

Ciri smiled to herself. "A few months ago we were new people."

"It changed."

And thank the gods it did, Ciri thought.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face.


	75. Chapter 75

"Yes, yes, I recall it's a story of long ago," the seer said, washing down the pie the Witcher had brought him with a swallow of mead. "Toderas was all wiped out, almost no one left. A couple of bands teamed together, yes. Some managed to escape, others were murdered, women ravished. The few refugees came here, we aided them, and they stayed, settled. This place is chilly and windy, but good people live here, and they stayed."

"Was there a blind woman among them?" Geralt asked.

He hemmed, racking his memory, chewing. "No blind woman came to live here, no. I've heard of one... living down there around them bogs. But no more I know, White Wolf."

"I've been to Toderas," Geralt sighed, rubbing his neck. The cold wind was blowing directly on it. "No one remembers anything about that attack."

"Of course," the old seer nodded. "Happened too many winters ago, a generation ago. You'll have better luck asking west of them bogs. Rumor says there was a wise woman there. Thank you for the treat, Witcher. As thanks, I can invite you under my roof for the night. There might be rain..." He sniffed the air and took another sip.

Geralt raised his eyes to the few clouds in the starry sky, and nodded, "Thank you, old man. Only until the dawn."

* * *

Kain roused Ciri early at dawn; the horses were outside nipping at the grass.

"We'll have to ride to Oreton and Drudge," he said, "after meeting Geralt in Lindenvale for breakfast."

Ciri was reluctant to wake. It was warm and cozy in the hay. So much, in fact, she was willing to forgive the odd strand poking her in the back.

She peered out the open barn door and groaned, sitting up to reclaim her jerkin. "I find it hard to believe Geralt will make it in time. He always berates me for waking him when the sun is not yet high in the sky."

"When he's on a mission? Hardly."

He picked the chain with the lock and went outside. The sun was barely beginning to shine from behind the trees.

Ciri got dressed and gathered her weapons, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she followed Kain outside to the horses.

"I'm telling you – he's a grumpy riser."

She climbed atop Kelpie who objected to being pulled away from her breakfast with a snort.

"Then he'll catch up," Kain said, locking the barn. He hid the key where he'd found it and went to Onyx. They rode out and accelerated along the country road.

Kelpie shot off at a great speed without Ciri's insistence, as if she wanted a good run. Ciri didn't mind. She preferred going fast. Even if it put them at risk of colliding with oncoming horses or pedestrians. Luckily, not many people roamed the roads this early.

"Been here, aye, the Witcher," the innkeeper said. "Said ye'd find him, so left no note or anything. Ye gonna have breakfast? We have pancakes with honey or fresh berries and apple cider."

Kain nodded a yes and returned to Ciri who settled at a table. Almost all of them were empty at this hour except for a gravedigger finishing his meal in the other corner of the tavern.

"So much for Geralt sleeping in," Kain teased, sitting down.

Ciri had managed to hear their conversation from where she sat.

"Strange. Do you think he's in some kind of trouble?"

"No, probably merely in a hurry to get to Drudge. We'll catch up easily - Roach hates galloping for long stretches of the road."

Ciri rested her chin in her palm. "You've gotten to know his mount as well? Not bad." Not many would have bothered. "Can you feel him? Geralt, I mean. Could you find him if you needed to?"

He pondered, watching a yawning maid tying an apron around her waist. "If I needed to - yes, I believe I could."

"Because you share blood? Or because you have become friendly?"

Kain shrugged, "I don't know, could be both and either."

"Blood helps. It's how I was able to find you in the Crones' dimension."

Ciri leaned back in her seat and, after a moment, plucked out the beacon nestled in her bosom, examining Lara's silhouette.

Curiosity flickered in his gaze. "Elder Blood, you mean?"

"Geralt's blood. Combined with my own."

He nodded in acknowledgment, his face thoughtful. "And how did you defeat the Crones?"

Ciri looked up from the carving of Lara. "I already told you. At the temple of Melitele. Don't you remember?"

"Tell me again," he smiled slightly.

"We fought. With sword and magic. Yennefer and I eventually got you out so we could close your wounds." Ciri slipped the beacon back into its hiding place. "Yennefer surmised that in order to close the gate to their dimension, the tapestry soaked in their magic, we would have to destroy the dimension itself. From the inside.

"So I went back in for Geralt who was still fighting them. I conjured up all the strength I had within me and began to take the dimension apart, piece by piece. Just before it collapsed entirely, I grabbed Geralt and got out."

It was amazing to imagine, and yet, after her outburst he remembered from Kaer Morhen, it wasn't all that impossible.

And yet...

Kain felt a little worm of either doubt or foreboding wiggle in his gut and asked: "Your power was enough to bring down the whole dimension with three Crones in it?" Even after they'd taken so much of my blood, his mind added.

Ciri squinted in thought, trying to remember. "It was at first. But towards the end I was getting tired," she said, imagining herself the way it had happened. "So I drew on the power of nature."

"I see..."

He was mulling it over when the sleepy maid brought their pancakes and cider. She smiled and winked at Kain before heading back for honey and berries. Kain returned the smile with a 'thank you'.

Ciri followed the maid's retreat with her gaze, feeling nothing but disgust at the brazen wench's obvious flirting.

Lucky for her, Ciri'd stopped at a look.

Ciri pulled her plate towards her and began eating, suddenly in a sour mood.

Kain cast furtive glances at her while she ate, turning her story this way and that in his head. He couldn't quite grasp whether there was something funny with it or he was merely being paranoid.

"What do you think was the nature of the relationship between that old woman and the Crones?" he asked her after a while of silence, dipping his pancake in honey.

"Thecla?" Ciri asked and thought on it a moment. "Seemed to me she was just another loyal worshipper willing to send young sacrifices to their deaths."

"She seemed to have been more privileged than other worshippers. I wonder what earned her that place."

"Privileged? Why do you say that?"

"She was deciding who would see the Ladies," he reasoned. "Doesn't it seem like a privileged position to you?"

"Deciding who gets to die. Who would end up in their stew." Ciri shook her head. "Seems an awful task to me. More like a punishment, really."

"Did you get an impression of her suffering?"

"No." Ciri cut a piece of her breakfast with her fork. "Think she's a witch as well?"

"Not necessarily. But she had the sight - that much was clear. If they granted any other powers to her, she hadn't revealed them to us."

Ciri chewed in silence, then swallowed. "If they gave her powers, do you think they have gone now they're dead?"

"Anna was cursed by them, and that curse has lifted." He sent the last piece of pancake into his mouth, chewing.

"Doubt she'll be willing to talk much if we do find her. If she knows we are at fault for the Crones' demise, that is."

Kain raised an eyebrow. "Think she knows it was you?"

"I think she'd be able to put two and two together. We asked for access to Bald Mountain on the eve of the Sabbath. By morning, two of the Crones were dead. As was Imlerith." Ciri pushed her empty plate away.

Kain finished his cider and got up. "The question is, what became of her now that they all are gone."

Ciri followed, adjusting her sword on her back as they headed for the door. "Let's see if we can find out. Where to first?"

"Depends on where Geralt is." He tossed her a sly smirk over his shoulder. "Lead the way."

She didn't point out how Kain had said he could probably locate Geralt on his own by now, and instead simply focused on her connection with the Witcher. It would have been quicker and easier to teleport them all there, but she doubted that's what Kain would want.

Considering Ciri was not really all that familiar with the area, she had no idea where she was leading them in a gallop. All she knew was that she was taking them in Geralt's direction and that it wouldn't be all that long until they found him.

Kain recognized the direction she took - toward Drudge, a small village on the bank of the lake. Fyke Isle sat in the middle of the lake like an abandoned beacon, clearly visible from every side of the coastal line. The sun was in its zenith when they trotted toward the houses. The village was bathing in golden sunlight and warmth, people were walking about, fishermen working on their boats, some were preparing their nets; everybody was waiting for the sun to begin its decline and some drop of heat.

Geralt was sitting on a log near the water with some elderly man, conversing.

Kain and Ciri caught his eye, then went for a stroll along the shore waiting for him.

"Looks like he hasn't had more luck than us," Ciri said, eyeing Geralt from afar.

"That man is telling him something," Kain observed. "Maybe it will be of some use." He glanced over the lake, inhaling its scent with the light breeze worrying its waters. "It's nice here."

"And here I assumed you wouldn't like Velen much after the Crone ordeal." Ciri took his hand in hers, keeping hold of it while they wandered the edge of the lake.

A faint jolt zapped through Kain's hand when she touched him, but he didn't yank it away. "I'm not fond of the bog. But here it feels better."

"Certainly smells better," Ciri agreed, casting another glance in Geralt's direction to gauge his progress. "Do you think he will ever be able to get his memories back?"

Kain lowered to sit in the grass overlooking the water. "I believe he would, but it would take time, and Yennefer is not the most patient person."

"She's trying very hard not to push him." Ciri sat down beside him, picking at a few blades of grass.

"It's hard for her, getting harder every day, and it shows now. Other sorceresses sense it, and it only fuels her discomfort."

"And they are ready to pounce," Ciri snorted.

Kain simpered. "People want what they want. Sorceresses like to flirt, especially when something can be gained."

"They should be careful. Yennefer is not to be trifled with. I would have thought they'd known that by now."

"You've so much faith in Yennefer, and yes, truly, she is powerful. But even the most powerful ones have their limits. Especially if a few other powerful mages team up against them. The Lodge is a team. And she is on her own."

Ciri frowned, taken aback. "You think the whole Lodge wants to shag Geralt? In... unison?"

Kain chuckled. "Not everything is about Geralt, Ciri. The Lodge and Yennefer always find themselves on the opposite sides. And the Lodge keeps doing everything in their power to demonstrate how they can get everything they want. If Geralt is the means of manipulating Yennefer, they will use it."

"Then they are idiots. They underestimate her," Ciri said. "They don't know the lengths Yennefer is willing to go to for her loved ones."

"Underestimating the Lodge and their power is silly," Kain reasoned.

"I expected you to catch up sooner," Geralt said, approaching. "Something kept you?"

"Breakfast," Kain said. "Any news?"

"They say she lived here for a while, but some time ago moved to some secluded place this old man doesn't know about. We'll have to find women who went to her for help, but they usually keep it a secret."

"The women from this village?" Ciri asked.

"Here and Oreton, and Lindenvale, too, I would guess," Geralt said. "She was known around. Only where to find her now barely anyone knows."

"Then maybe we need a woman in need of help to ask other women," Kain said.

"Me?" Ciri blinked, glancing down at herself before giving a shrug. "I suppose I could have become in the... family way."

Geralt considered her. "Might work in Oreton, where no one's seen you."

"And if you dye your hair," Kain added.

"Ugh." Smearing mud on her hair again? Ciri was not pleased. "You know, I'd wager those women would crack under torture very easily. Even the promise of pain may be enough..."

Both witchers stared at her, speechless, neither able to determine whether she was jesting or not.

Judging by how both men looked, Ciri assumed they did not like her idea.

"Fine." She threw her hands up, mildly annoyed. "Find me some of that quality mud then."

They stopped in a forest halfway to Oreton to get the clay and berries, then Ciri washed her hair in the lake and sported a reddish-brown color that could have fooled even those who glimpsed her before.

They sent her into the village on Roach, because Kain stated that Kelpie was too noticeable, and Ciri needed to appear humbled by her issues.

"She was joking," Geralt murmured as they watched her ride toward the fishermen village. It wasn't a question, and yet there was a need to be comforted by a confirmation.

"I don't think she was," Kain responded.

Geralt's face darkened. When she was out of sight, he peered at the Cat Witcher. "What is with her?"

He shrugged. "She's constantly angry and defensive. And I don't yet know the reason. We've been to the bog, burned the orphanage barn. Then went to the tree. The flooded cave under the hill had ice in it."

He told Geralt about their findings, and the Witcher listened, deep in thought, watching the lake waters.

"How do you think we can locate other beacons?" he asked.

"We'll need a map and a pendulum made of crystal," Kain suggested. "That's the simplest way. I'm sure Yennefer would have her own ideas, as well as Avallac'h."

"You want to ask Avallac'h?"

"It might not be a good idea. We better try to resolve this on our own."

"Hmm."

They were silent for a while, both thinking of the same issues.

"It's strange that it's hard to find a blind woman that's not a witch," Geralt mused eventually. "Why would an old blind woman - even if she has a daughter or someone to aid her - live alone and away from people?"

"A quirk of a seer or..." Kain squinted at him meaningfully, "she has something to hide."

"Like what?"

"Magic she actually has?"

Geralt scowled and thought it over.

"Maybe I should visit another seer to clear it up."

Kain regarded him shrewdly. "And ask about Ciri? Perhaps you should."

"Hmm... And what of your elf friend? You said she has gifts."

"I suppose she needs to see Ciri or hold something of hers."

"The latter can be easier, given your fight about her."

"I'll see what I can do when we're back in Novigrad. Where is that Pellar?"

"West from the Crow's Perch."

"You need an excuse and something of Ciri's."

Geralt chortled sardonically and ran a hand through his hair. What could be simpler?

* * *

Ciri had expected her mission to be simple. True, women who had something to hide were tightlipped about the keepers of their secrets. And yet, normal women with normal lives tended to live in fear. Fear of their drunken husbands, fear for the future of their children, fear of where their next meal would come from. Especially in war times. People were easier to buy then.

But the first two women Ciri encountered and asked for help, had shot her down immediately. They wanted nothing to do with her at all and hurried away with looks of disgust on their faces.

The third was a failure as well, and despite how discreet Ciri had been, the men started to notice.

Only when their rude and inappropriate comments grew louder and bolder, did Ciri find her luck.

An older woman bustled out of her small hut and ushered Ciri inside, glaring over her shoulder at the men with a look that burned. As though the older woman held a maternal position in their hearts, the men ceased their shouting and went back to work, slightly abashed.

Ciri informed the woman, who called herself Bertha, that she had become pregnant with her lover's child. A child that would not be accepted by her parents, and would ensure no man would ever want to make her his wife. In other words – complete ruin.

She mentioned she knew of another girl from her village who had been in a similar predicament and who had received help taking care of the problem from an old wise woman.

Bertha, though sympathetic to Ciri's plight, did not give up the location of a certain cut-wife. Not until Ciri burst into tears and hysterics. The older woman gathered a scrap of paper and some coal from her fireplace and drew down a rough map of where the cut-wife's hut could be found. It wasn't far from town but would be hard to come by on one's own as it was surrounded by thick trees and rested in a hallow near a small river.

Though the description was vague, Ciri returned to the witchers with the belief they would be able to find the place. Eventually.

She slipped off Roach's back, eager to reunite with Kelpie, and handed the scrap of paper to Geralt. "West of here. Shouldn't be far."

The Witcher studied the makeshift map, scratching his stubbled cheek. "Seems like a lonely hut in the woods. Very well." He looked at her with mock concern. "No women tortured for this?"

"I don't cut and tell," Ciri responded with a sly smile. "Into the forest we go then?"

* * *

The day and night passed sluggishly for Yennefer, as if she'd been stuck in the library for a full week and knew every conceivable volume locked on its shelves. Her eyes stung, her hair had lost its usual bounce and her stomach was crying out for attention. She hadn't even slept in her bed the night before.

She hadn't done anything like that since her first days of learning magic.

She reveled in the solitude, in the distraction the barrage of information-gathering had offered her, eating it up until she'd made enough notes on spare parchments. There had been a lot of notes, a lot of rumors and legends told, factors she'd wilted down with deductive reasoning and commonalities. There were only two. Skellige and Elven ruins.

A good thing they'd already decided to go there.

After deciding she'd found all the legible information Oxenfurt had to offer on the Sunstone, she folded the parchments and tucked them against her body for safekeeping finally making her way back to the inn. When she entered the _Three Little Bells_, there was a cheerful gathering in full swing, couples moving across the dance hall fluidly, others biting down on whatever was on the menu, singing along or playing Gwent. Considering everything that had happened in Oxenfurt two weeks ago, it was interesting to see how the survivors had picked themselves up and moved on.

No one appeared to have a care in the world and the atmosphere was warm and welcome.

Her gaze fell on Dandelion in the middle of the crowd, spinning the girl, whose clinic Yennefer had repaired, around beneath his arm, carrying her across the floor as if they were flying. No wonder Dandelion had been reluctant to leave Oxenfurt for Novigrad. This kind of cheer hadn't reached there yet—that she'd seen in its full extent. Most were still too nervous about the Wild Hunt and others were even more on edge after the chaos that had happened at the bank. Even in Oxenfurt, it had made the news gossips. Only its people were more thrilled about that fact, taking it as a sign that the Wild Hunt might have moved on from Oxenfurt and would stick to their earlier threats of destroying Novigrad.

If only they knew.

Yennefer watched the dancers a few moments longer and then headed in search of a table.

"Yennefer!" Shani called merrily over the music, tugging Dandelion behind her over to the sorceress' table. She was slightly out of breath, her cheeks flushed. "Come join us!"

Dandelion snorted, the idea apparently ludicrous to him.

"Gladly," Yennefer responded, claiming the troubadour's hand before he could resist, dragging him back onto the dancefloor and into a practiced motion. "Given you weren't able to find time to help me research, the least you could do is try to amuse me with your negligible footwork."

"I helped!" Dandelion protested, reluctantly allowing himself to be pulled away. "I offered much-needed insight into your and Geralt's situation."

He eyed Yennefer as though she was a bear ready to clobber him with clawed paws should he step on her toes, awkwardly allowing his hand to hover over her narrow waist as they began to sway.

"And it was invaluable," Yennefer retorted unenthusiastically, drawing in closer once Dandelion had conceded to defeat, even letting him take the lead. "Will you still be returning to Novigrad with me tomorrow?"

He grimaced, trying to be subtle and failed. "Is there truly such a need for me there?"

"None that I can see. Zoltan is coping with the Inn. I'm just surprised that you seem to be going out of your way to avoid returning to Novigrad. Is it the heroic exalting that has you trapped here or do you have something on your mind?"

"I confess, having the sorceresses of The Lodge under my roof does not exactly make me feel easy," the bard said, gently twirling Yennefer under his arm and back. "And then..." He looked hesitant to continue but eventually did. "Ciri has been acting strange lately. Don't you think?"

Was Ciri really part of the reason he didn't want to return to the inn? What could she possibly have said that frightened him or made him that uncomfortable that he couldn't broach Geralt about it?

"Did she threaten you?"

"No!" Dandelion exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise. "No, it was nothing like that. But the last time we spoke, she was just so angry. And accused us all of smothering her with our affections. That we were holding her back. I've never heard her speak like that before."

He watched Yennefer cautiously, not too eager to meet her intense gaze now they were so close. "Has she said anything of the sort to you?"

"She has," Yennefer replied, deciding that there was no need to keep that truth to herself. "I believe she is having a hard time trying to reconcile where her life is going with the Wild Hunt breathing down her neck. She's under a lot of pressure."

"She's always been under a lot of pressure," Dandelion argued. "But she's never acted like this before." He lowered his voice so Yennefer would be the only one to hear. "She was even speaking of torment and how if it became necessary she was more than capable of executing it herself."

"To what was she referring when she said that? To you? In the torment of smothering her or simply meting it out?"

"Her enemies. Or if information was needed," Dandelion shuddered at the thought. "Shani thinks it might be lingering trauma. But I don't know, Yennefer. She seems different now from when we first reunited."

"A lot has happened since then," Yennefer excused. She wasn't going to enlighten him about the bank. "Are you frightened of her?"

"No." Dandelion spun her once more, his face contemplative as he pulled Yennefer back into his arms. "But she made me feel uncomfortable. I worry I will say the wrong thing. Something that sets her off."

"I can sympathize with that sentiment," Yennefer said, lulled into a false sense of comfort while they danced. She didn't have too many that she could confide in, anymore, and although she and Geralt did talk about Ciri, it still made Yennefer feel alone at times as she knew he was holding back. "I had a moment like that with her at the temple. We were talking about Kain and then the next moment she was accusing me of being too deeply invested in her business. This from a girl who for months plied me with bold question after question about intimacy. Who shared most of her secrets with me."

"My point exactly!" Dandelion cried, pleased that someone was agreeing with his concerns. "I thought those temper-fits should have ended in the adolescent years."

"I don't believe she's been allowed to have those adolescent years yet, do you?"

"So we should expect more behavior like this in the future? How am I supposed to act around her now she's made it clear she doesn't appreciate my affection?" Dandelion put a hand over his heart, truly feeling betrayed.

She felt a similar way after her own unintentional verbal altercations with Ciri.

"I wish I could tell you. All I can advise is that you be patient – it could be that once we've taken care of the Wild Hunt that'll it'll change, that she'll be able to settle and accept that she's safe."

"And if she doesn't?"

"She will. I'll do everything in my power to help her through it," Yennefer stated, reducing their movement until they stopped. She placed her hand over his. "As will Geralt. I know you will, too. You've never been the type to give up on a pretty girl."

Dandelion puffed out his chest like a proud peacock.

"Quite right!" he declared. "Once this is all over we will remind Ciri of the pleasures of life. Starting with a performance of my works. She has always admired them."

"She has. I remember your works being one of the first books she chose to read for her own enjoyment," Yennefer added, gifting him a ghost of a smile as she remembered those nights reading together, indulging in the fanciful poems and light of interest in her daughter's eyes. She'd had so much hope then, so much love and fire. As of late Ciri seemed to be nothing less than an inferno.

"I thank you for the dance, Troubadour, but I'm to eat, get as much wine in me as I can, and enjoy some fresh air. I expect, come the morning, you'll be joining me." Before he could answer, she pressed a hand to his clothed chest, patting lightly, leaning in since a few eyes had been studying the two while they danced so she could speak against his ear. "You should safely make the best of this night and all its offerings."

With that in mind, she left him to enjoy the music and the conversation from the young woman who'd immediately taken over her position and stepped into his view.

"Yennefer!" Dandelion called, attempting to pry himself loose of the grasp of adoring women.

"Please, ladies, no touching my lute! Oh, that is not my lute!"

A yelp escaped the bard as he hurried across the floor towards Yennefer, leaving a small group of pouting maidens in his wake.

"Yennefer, I have had the honor of being invited to one of the magnificent Vegelbund soirees later this evening. Would you care to join me? If anything, it will help take your mind off Geralt and Ciri. There is not much we can do until they return, anyhow."

Yennefer weighed the option of an early night, a book—even though she was tired of reading—and the challenge of normalcy Dandelion had unexpectedly presented. She hadn't had a night like that in a very long time. She'd tried but all attempts seemed to have ended in some kind of disorder.

"I'd be delighted," Yennefer said after what felt like a lengthy pause, her lips twitching slightly. "Although greatly unprepared for such an event. I expect you've requested something appropriate from the tailor?"

"Of course! They are crafting me something in a regal purple." Dandelion sighed happily at the thought, absentmindedly stroking the feather in his cap until his gaze landed on Yennefer again.

"Can't you simply-" he flailed his arms in dramatic motions for emphasis, "-conjure yourself a gown?"

"I could," Yennefer agreed. She wouldn't. It was one thing for her to use magic to make Ciri armour that she'd wear all the time, it was another using it to make a lavish dress for one night's use. "Where is this soiree to be held or can I expect you'll meet me here like a gentleman?"

"It is being held at the Vegelbund mansion here in town. The family usually resides in Novigrad but has apparently come to cheer up their friends and business partners here in Oxenfurt." Dandelion's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and appreciation. "And what better way than a party? With music and women and good food and drink and women..." He drifted off for a split second, then shook back into reality to focus on Yennefer anew. "I will, of course, meet you here and escort you to the soiree, Lady Yennefer."

He bowed low, an impish but charming grin on his face.

Yennefer replicated the courtesy with a light but playful bow of her head. "Tonight then," she said in goodbye, continuing in search of food and then upstairs for coin.

* * *

The hut was covered with wild ivy and mold on the outside and abandoned inside. There were a few boxes, some dusty empty sacks, a shattered bottle - also covered in a thick layer of dust, and a couple of wooden bed carcasses. There was a shelf on the wall, hanging askance, and another was on the floor - obviously fallen down at some point. There were no prints of traces on the even gray layer of dust covering every surface. Multiple spider webs moved subtly under the gusts of air from the open door.

"Well, that's unfortunate," Geralt said, studying the floor. "It's been empty for months. And we've seen that crone on the Bald Mountain. She had to live somewhere all this time."

"Perhaps we can pick up a trace," Kain murmured, crouching in front of one of the bed frames. He swept his fingers over the dust, then took a hold of the wooden balk and closed his eyes, focusing.

Ciri watched Kain closely while he concentrated, then eventually looked to Geralt, speaking in a whisper. "How do you track your prey when you don't have mages with you?"

"There's always a trail to follow, always something that remains," he said. "But tracking humans who left months ago... It's a bit outside of my competence."

"Mine, too," Ciri admitted, moving about the hut while Kain worked, nudging some fallen debris aside with her boot.

Kain rose and rifted a piece of the bed frame off. "This hut wasn't initially theirs," he told the two who watched him in slight bewilderment. "The energy is faint and mixed with others who slept on this bed. But I saw something... I might be able to recognize the place if I see it. It's somewhere on the lake bank."

"How are you going to search?" Geralt asked.

"With this," Kain showed the piece of wood, "and my eyes. I saw that image from the lake, as though from a boat. So I'll need one."

"Then let us go to the lake. If we're to find a boat, it will be there." Ciri strode out of the hut, already bored with the new developments of the mission. She couldn't see any importance in finding the old hag.

But Geralt and Kain thought different.

"Maybe she's dead," Geralt said to Kain once they were alone.

"And the younger one?"

"Left for a better place."

Kain sighed. "We can drop it, then. Head back to Novigrad."

"Not before I find out what's with Ciri." Geralt reached into his pouch and showed Kain a piece of white cloth, so small one could merely wrap around his pinky. Kain stared in mute question, and he nodded. "Cut it off when she turned away to mount."

"Then go to the Pellar," Kain said and gave him the wood splinter. "I'll take her back and see if she'll agree to visit my elf friend."

They walked out and found Ciri a few yards away with the horses. She and Kelpie were looking at each other: the horse seemed wary, with her ears pricked, and Ciri pensive.

"I suppose we can forget the old wench if she doesn't want to be found," Geralt said. "You two can go back and I'll visit an old fellow who helped me before. Want to see if he's still doing fine."

Ciri looked between the witchers, befuddled. "What? We came all this way to find her. And after the first obstacle, you give up?"

Geralt spread his arms, "It's not the first place we came looking. Maybe she died and no one knew. We'll have to be satisfied with having seen Anna. She healed and it means the Crones are gone."

"If there are more attacks, we'll look into it," Kain added. "For now finding her will hardly clear anything up."

Ciri's eyes narrowed. "And you don't want to know the cause of the earlier attacks? It was so important to you a few days ago."

Ciri didn't much care either way, but she found it strange that the witchers had suddenly changed their minds. Perhaps their adventures weren't as amusing with Ciri in tow.

"It is important," the Witcher agreed. "But the trail is cold - you see it yourself. Maybe it's just the beasts going wild because of the changes."

"The only thing left is to look around the Bald Mountain," said Kain.

"Might as well take a gander while we're in the area," Ciri said, reaching for Kelpie to hoist herself up into the saddle. "The old hag was nearby last we saw her, anyhow."

"We'll be fine," Kain told Geralt. "You go visit that old man. We'll meet you back home."

The Witcher considered it carefully, then conceded. "Be extra careful there," he said. "Don't rush into any fights if there is anything suspicious going on." He looked pointedly at Ciri. "Hear me?"

"We do," Kain said, hopping onto Onyx's back.

Ciri made no promises. She only smiled.

They watched Geralt and Roach take off in the opposite direction, then set out on their own journey.

"Look at Geralt making friends," she commented.

"He made a few friends while looking for you," Kain said.

"He told you about them?" Ciri asked, swallowing subtly. She knew some of them had died, just like the 'friends' Ciri herself had made on her journeys.

She didn't think Geralt blamed her for that. But she was also acutely aware that those who had joined the witcher during his search, may have met a kinder fate had they chosen not to.

"Zoltan is one of such friends. There was also that Nilfgaardian young man who was in love with you."

Ciri clenched her jaw, her whole body suddenly rife with tension.

She snorted. "He wasn't in love. He plucked me up from underneath a corpse when I was a child, while Cintra was burning all around us. He never got to know me. He was not in love. He simply needed a mission."

"It's hard to know what's in someone else's soul," Kain mused.

"You know nothing," Ciri scowled. "You weren't there."

She squeezed Kelpie's flanks encouragingly and sent the mare into a gallop.

Back in Drudge, they were about to get in the boat one of the local fishermen lent them when a frantic rider burst into the peaceful landscape of the village.

It was a frightened woman, so scared she seemed delirious. She couldn't speak at once, and a group of women cooed over her, bringing water and soothing until she found her wits.

She was from Lurtch, and it was attacked by ghouls and wild beasts. She escaped by a miracle - she was returning from the river bank with one of the three horses the village owned. She turned around and galloped away while wolves and dogs (and gods know what else, as she put it) gave chase.

"Please, please," she begged, rocking back and forth on the bench, her eyes anxiously sweeping among the people surrounding her, "please, help! They all stuck in them homes! Them beasts will get in! Mah old pop! Them beasts will rip 'em apart! Please! Please!"

"Bald Mountain should wait, I would guess," Kain said, looking to Ciri.

Ciri, hands on her hips, eyed the raving woman with cold annoyance. "I suppose that is what's expected," she retorted, abandoning her task of untying the boat, leaving it secured to the dock.

Onyx and Kelpie weren't far, so they didn't need to walk long to catch up to the two mounts. "Another effect of the Crones' death, you think?"

"I don't know what to think yet," Kain confessed, snapping his fingers for Onyx. The stallion trotted to him readily. "There's only one way to find out."

"Let us get it over with quickly," Ciri said, urging Kelpie onwards into a gallop once ready.

Why people seemed unable to do anything but hide and cower in the face of danger, she also didn't know. It was pathetic, really. How had they all survived this long without witchers roaming the countryside?


	76. Chapter 76

Lurtch was sitting on a hill, and they dismounted halfway up to not be caught off guard by any creature.

The village looked abandoned and quiet as a graveyard. They stole around, keeping to the houses, and no sounds seeped from behind their walls and doors. They peeked in a few windows and saw no people or movement.

In the middle of the village, inside a square pen, there was a dead pig - ripped apart and gnawed on.

"Looks like a wolves' assault," Kain mused and glanced around. "Where are other pigs?"

"Maybe someone let them out to distract the predators?" Ciri whispered. "I thought the woman said ghouls? Means there were corpses to attract them."

She peered out from behind the nearest corner, attempting to get a better look at the dead pig opposite them. "Think it's been dead a while?"

"It died a couple of hours ago," Kain said, giving a closer look at the blood soaking into the ground around the carcass. "But if people are around, they're hiding. Basements or pantries."

"Well, if the monsters are still here, let's get their attention." Ciri didn't have the patience to sit and wait.

She pushed out from behind the house they'd been leaning against, and made for the middle of the village, whistling as if calling the beasts to her. Her sword was ready in her hand and her whole body was itching with the desire to spill blood.

Kain strolled along the narrow path in front of several houses built on the same line. He strained his ears and senses, something was amiss. Too quiet, too empty.

He stopped across from a barn and sniffed the air, eyeballing the door slightly ajar and the small dusty windows of the hogpen. There were frightened pigs inside, several, judging by the faint sounds.

A low growling tugged his attention to the line of the forest surrounding the village. He saw five wolves watching them from the shrubs. Three were snarling. Something moved behind them deeper in the woods, like a ghost. Kain couldn't make out the figure but felt a chill creep through his spine.

Ciri saw it, too, and smiled, baring her teeth just as the pack of wolves did.

When they charged for her, she was ready. She blinked in and out, her sword sparkling in the sunlight whenever she swung it at a beast. Like all her recent fights, it was a game. A game where she proved her power and athletics skills. The wolves were no match for her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a few specimens of the pack darting off for Kain, drool dripping from their snarling mouths. They were set to kill. And not just for food. Something had gotten them all riled up.

The ghouls. Two of them. They emerged from the shrubs with growls of their own, pale and fleshy, on all fours. Like twisted, rotting corpses.

Ciri drove her sword into the scruffy neck of a wolf and delighted in its dying whine as she turned to focus on the oncoming threat.

Kain threw the two attacking wolves back with magic, sending them tumbling down the slanted path to the pen fence, and slashed at the ghouls, stalling their rash of attack. It bought him a moment to set one of them on fire with another quick spell and advance on the second while it was momentarily distracted by the screeches of its partner.

Kain hacked its head off and turned around swiftly, pinning the scorched one with the sword. It screamed and burst into brighter flames that devoured it whole. The creature stopped moving.

Kain yanked his sword out and saw an alghoul snarling from the bushes before it retreated away. It wasn't eager to lay down its life here. The remaining two wolves decided to follow the alghoul's example and sprinted to the woods.

Something moved between the trunks again, and Kain sensed another stroke of chill.

"There's something there," he muttered, starting toward the woods. "It's controlling the beasts."

Ciri followed and eventually advanced, curious to see what or who was hiding in the forest.

She didn't have to search long to find out.

"Leshen," she murmured, a little in awe. She'd never encountered one of the ancient beasts herself. But there it stood, at least eight feet tall, with a deer skull for a head and tree-trunk for a body.

That explained the wolves. Leshens were known for being able to control both plants and animals with their magic. And this one proved to be no different.

Ciri started forward with her sword ready to strike, only to be forced aside when a murder of crows descended on her. Just as when she had battled the Crones, the birds swarmed the girl, blinded her, disorientated her.

As she made attempts to blink away, Ciri barely noticed how the crows had shifted her away from the Leshen itself. Not that it mattered. The tall monster had dug its arms into the ground and the forest floor shook as roots and tendrils sprouted from the earth, lashing for Kain's body.

Kain was barely able to roll back several times as the roots shot out from the ground like angry worms in his wake. The tall figure of the leshen suddenly dissolved into smoke as if he were a figment of their imagination.

Kain flexed his fingers on the sword, pricking his senses not to miss the next attack. He heard the wolves - they ran around a dozen yards away waiting for either of them to flee, like onlookers in a village brawl that stand in a circle blocking any retreat.

Ciri screamed in frustration as feathers and claws raked across her face. She felt as though she was close to suffocating and her head was spinning with disorientation.

She teleported – further this time, away from the immediate reach of the crows. It took them a few seconds to catch on, and when they came for her again, she was ready.

Thrusting out both hands, Ciri's thoughts were consumed by fire. Bright, red, hot flames. They shot from her palms and engulfed the birds as they flew towards her. Their shrieks of agony echoed through the forest and the snarls of the wolves increased.

Ciri turned on the beasts and stared them down, eyeing their bared teeth and dark eyes. She blinked out of sight again, just long enough to reclaim her fallen sword, then returned, panting and eager for more bloodshed.

"Come on, then!"

Kain turned to the sound of her voice, and a sharp dagger of pain stabbed into his temples, drowning his vision in black. He grunted, trying to keep his balance, his head flooded with whispers and chanting he didn't understand.

He jumped to the side and rolled, despite the urge to be sick from a splitting headache, and it proved to be just in time to avoid the roots that began to chase his wake again.

He blinked, dashing away and pirouetting from their deadly stabs, trying to regain his focus. He didn't waste time on cutting the roots springing from the ground - there would be no time to avoid the wounds.

The leshen didn't relent and advanced after Kain, cutting to the place where the roots chased him. The creature held out its claws to grasp the Cat Witcher, but Kain noticed from the corner of his eye and spun around catching the monster with his sword through its chest.

The leshen screeched like a murder of spooked crows and broke apart into black smoke that fell to the ground and seeped in. The woods were deceptively quiet again, save for the wolves that worried yards away, snarling and yapping.

Ciri was on them within the next second, using their distraction to her advantage. She hacked and slashed and stabbed until the wolves were no more and her hands were stained red with their blood.

She flicked some off her sword and turned to where Kain was standing, listening for any telltale sign of where the leshen would re-appear.

When it did, it was silent, and it took both Ciri and Kain a few extra seconds to notice him among the trees.

"There!" Ciri pointed, rushing for the very spot the beast was standing.

She was the first on it, but the creature swung his long branch-like arm and sent her flying for a dozen yards. She collided with a tree and fell down, making Kain's heart skip a beat.

He had no time to dwell on worry, for the creature struck his claws into the ground, and the roots burst out of it, rapidly gaining on the Cat Witcher. Kain jumped, rolled, and danced out of their range, making a wide circle to get closer to the leshen. The monster wasn't about to wait to be slain. Kain hurled his sword into the tall figure; it went through its head as it turned into a swirl of black smoke, and stuck into a trunk behind it.

Kain sprinted to it, grabbed the handle, and yanked. The leshen grew before him in the very moment he turned around, its claws struck through his abdomen pinning the man to the tree.

Kain hissed through gritted teeth, dropping the sword, and gripped onto the dry branches of the leshen's chest, gathering all his fury and magic into one push that blasted the creature with fire.

The leshen screamed, staggering back, its claws torn from Kain, who cried out and fell on one knee. His hand felt for the sword handle, dragging it to him while he watched the monster stagger and wave its arms as if it would shake off the flames.

Kain made himself get up and come a few unsteady steps closer to the beast; he flicked his hand, throwing blood spatter at it. When the droplets hit the creature, the fire went wild, devouring the whole figure, turning it into a howling torch.

Ciri's back ached and throbbed as she pushed back onto her feet, but the pain was easily forgotten when she saw the spectacle of the flaming leshen a few feet away. It excited her, made her tingle in all the right places. And her own earlier discomfort, the cuts on her face and hands from the crows, meant nothing.

She watched in glee as the leshen staggered blindly around the clearing, its screeches and howls otherworldly and eerie. When it finally fell like a tree trunk to the ground and moved no more, she sheathed her sword.

As she turned to face Kain, the memory of him slaying the leshen was still fresh in mind. It had been a glorious sight to behold and her whole body sang with admiration.

She closed the distance between them and grabbed the front of Kain's jerkin, pushing him back against the nearest tree and pinning him there so she could fuse her lips to his as though her life depended on it. It didn't matter that he was bleeding, or that he looked as though he could use some rest.

Her very being vibrated with power and arousal. Surely Kain had to feel it. Surely he had to feel the same way in the afterglow of the kill.

A wave of searing pain thrust through Kain when his back was shoved into the tree, his groan muffled by the kiss he didn't expect, nor fully perceived. Now that the leshen was dead, his focus was quickly dissolving into the throes of the wounds and fatigue.

He put an arm between Ciri and himself, gently pushing her away so he could bend and cough blood, holding onto the trunk to not fall down.

Ciri frowned, a pang of hurt stinging her heart when Kain pushed her aside.

When he bent at the waist to cough blood, some of the hurt gave way to concern.

"Heal yourself," she demanded softly, trying to get a look at where his injuries were.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing that hurt too badly. He made an effort, sinking deeper into himself in search of the healing impulse to ignite. It was elusive, but he managed to get a hold of it to make his wounds skin over a bit to stop the bleeding. Deep inside, however, it still hurt and needed a better concentration.

Breathing carefully, he lowered against the trunk to sit on the ground.

"I need to get to the river," he uttered quietly, with effort. "In a moment..."

Ciri sighed. This was all quite inconvenient. Her needs weren't considered at all.

She knelt beside the wounded witcher and offered him her hand. "Let me take you there. It will be quick and painless."

His pain eased a little bit, enough to gain some clarity, and he eyed Ciri with an alarmed wonder. He took her hand, nevertheless.

The moment Ciri had Kain's hand in hers, she brought them to the lake as he had requested. She helped him close enough to the edge of the water without having him fall in.

"I'm fine, I can walk," he said, carefully shrugging the jerkin off. He discarded it on the bank and toed off his boots before going in.

There was something in the water. He could sense some tint of darkness, like a faint trace of poison. Velen was still a No Man's Land - to some extent.

He closed his eyes and focused within himself again. This time it was easier to accomplish with minimum distractions, and the pain began to dissipate.

When he felt good enough, he took off his shirt and washed the blood out of it. He returned to the shore wringing it out, then picked up the jerking to clean it, too.

Ciri lay back on the lakeshore with her arms folded beneath her head, feeling highly disappointed by the sudden cold-plunge of Kain's injury. Despite her belief the two were meant to be, it felt as though the world was working against them.

"Do you need to find a place to rest?" she asked once he'd resurfaced from his healing. "Or shall we continue on as planned?"

Kain wrung the water out of his jerkin and put it on, shivering slightly. He adjusted the sword belt and glanced at where the horses were drinking.

"We'll go back up there to make sure there is nothing else," he told her and clucked his tongue for Onyx.

"You don't think it was the leshen's doing?"

Ciri got up and walked to meet Kelpie halfway, swinging herself onto the mare's back.

"It was a leshen, but it couldn't have been its own intentions."

Kain turned Onyx and sent him into gallop up the path.

The village wasn't as abandoned anymore. People were slowly beginning to emerge from their homes and basements. Most of them were hiding in the mill tower.

"You," a woman pointed at Kain when he trotted closer and dismounted. "You're the witcher?"

"Yes," he said. "It was a leshen and its wolves."

"Oh, Clarita!" Another woman fell on her knees in the pen before the remains of a torn pig. "Oh, mah sweet..."

"Them wolves," an old man muttered, shaking his head.

"The Ladies are angry!" a woman shrieked. "They're angry with us! We failed to serve them!"

"How do you know?" Kain asked.

She looked at him with wide eyes as if he were insane. "We always know! They our Ladies! They protect us and now they angry! They want blood! They want sacrifice!"

"Isn't your pig enough?" Kain waved a hand toward the pen where the first was still weeping over the carcass, calling its name.

The wide-eyed woman gave it a thought, then shook her head abruptly. "No. It's taken. But ought t' be given."

"And you think those terms are fair?" Ciri scoffed, arching a brow. "Slaughtering an animal or one of your own to appease some haggard old women in a swamp? Why would you worship something that has no reluctance to harm you?"

"How dare yee, gal!" the woman waved her hands at Ciri as if she were a swarm of wasps. "Yee not live here! Yee an outsider! Yee don' decide!"

"She didn't mean to," Kain said, pulling the attention back to him. "Where can we find the Ladies?"

The woman let on a slow, wicked sneer. "Yee don' find the Ladies. They find yee."

"The rest of them pigs here," one of the men announced. "Them dead wolves pelts are cut up, a waste."

"Do you know where Thecla lives?" Kain asked the woman.

"Old Thecla be talkin to Ladies," the woman said with an air of reprimand as if Kain had to know it. "She be livin alone in them bogs."

"How do you find her when you need her help?"

"She knows and sends for yee when yee in need."

"Thank you," Kain nodded and went back to his horse. "I'll take that boat ride, after all," he murmured to Ciri before mounting.

Ciri smiled with evident amusement, then followed in Kain's wake.

When they got back to the boat, she was the one to take command of the oars. Kain could clearly use a break from heavy activities considering the amount of energy he had to have spent from the earlier fight and healing session. Besides, they had no idea what awaited them when they reached shore.

The water was murky but still, and yet the closer they got to their destination, the colder the air around them grew. It was subtle but enough to prickle at Ciri's senses.

Kain watched the shoreline, recalling the vague visions he'd had in the forest hut. The most imposing view was the Fyke Isle with its tower. Kain could make out the figures of drowners bustling about. He knew a pack of ghouls might be stalking deeper in the island, closer to the tower.

Ciri rowed around the island, following Kain's instructions, and steered clear of teasing the drowners. They were aware of a bunch swimming below the boat's belly, but those didn't surface to attack.

The boat coursed along the shore, past Olena's Grove. Kain tensed and sat straighter when a ghost of a house shimmered through the evening gauze of fog forming over the lake surface.

"Let's move for the shore," Kain said, pointing between the Grove and the strange group of houses.

Ciri obeyed, eyeing the cluster of buildings curiously. "Is someone living there?"

It was a rhetorical question; she didn't expect Kain to know the answer.

But she couldn't imagine anyone wanting to set down roots here. Not with the drowners so close by.

Ciri jumped out once the boat slid over rocks and sand, taking hold of the front and, with Kain's help, maneuvered the vessel far enough onto shore to keep it from floating away.

There was little of dry land - more like the grassy patches in the bogs. It was a wonder how even a small village could have been built here. Kain thought it could have happened a long time ago - the water level had risen since then.

The remaining houses of Frischlow were rotting from their foundations, and no one lived here but a group of drowners that immediately rushed to attack.

Ciri drew her sword and met the slimy creatures half-way, slashing at their limbs while pirouetting and dodging their lethal claws.

Fighting both with sword and her powers made her feel invincible. This is how it was supposed to be all along. This is what she was made for.

If only she had discovered her talents earlier, Ciri's life might have been so very different.

She saw Bonhart's cruel face on that of the drowner and her motivation to slaughter them all only heightened. If he had met Ciri now, he would never have been able to even touch her...

A few drowners hurried to Kain and met their quick end as he danced between them, slashing them open, and whacked the head off the last one who dashed to him.

He sheathed his sword, watching Ciri finish off her last enemies. Something strange was in her face, both incredible fury and elation. It mesmerized and petrified at the same time.

"Seems we're lucky today," Ciri breathed with a smile, sheathing her weapon. "We may be delayed, but at least we get to play."

Kain saw no game in having to kill anything but kept it to himself as he moved to peek into the houses. He strolled among them, carefully stepping around the pools, trying to sense for the same energy he had picked up in the forest hut.

"She's been here," he said eventually. "But a while ago. When these houses were still livable. There's no way to know where she is now. Maybe on the mountain."

"She's quite old," Ciri pointed out. "Would she be able to survive up there on her own?"

She paused, squinting at the mountaintop in the distance. "Unless she's not alone."

"She wasn't alone," Kain reminded. "There was a younger woman with her. Marica."

"She was with her on the sabbath," Ciri agreed. "Think she was a constant companion?"

"She might be her daughter or someone with the same goals and beliefs."

Kain sighed and gauged the sky. The sun was steadily declining, the clouds were gathering.

"Let's get back to Novigrad and meet Geralt there," he suggested.

Ciri frowned. "Our mission was to search Bald Mountain. Why do you wish to leave?"

"Because it's silly to walk into a trap before informing Geralt."

"And you think he is on his way to Novigrad already?" Ciri started back for the boat, conceding if that is what Kain truly wanted.

"I believe he will come sometime before or during the night," he said, heading for the boat. When they settled, he picked up the oars and squinted at her inquiringly. "Don't you find it strange that a woman in terror whose village is under attack rides past a rather large settlement of Lindenvale without stops and all the way down to where we were - to ask for help? It took her twice as long to get to us by skipping Lindenvale."

"I find it strange she was able to ride a horse without falling off," Ciri murmured, leaning back on her elbows and eventually meeting his gaze. "But now you mention it... does seem oddly convenient to run into two monster hunters."

"She didn't run into us," he said, rowing. "She rode past the first place to go for help to a remote village, losing an extra hour, and we just happened there."

"Did we?" Ciri mused. "It was planned, after all." Though how anyone would be able to know that, Ciri didn't know.

"We planned to come and ask around, but when precisely we would get there we couldn't know."

"So you think it's a coincidence then?"

"Of course it isn't. She was directed. But by what force or her own will - that's hard to tell."

"Must have been some omnipotent force – if it knew where we'd be when we did not."

Kain sighed, glancing over his shoulder to skirt around the Fyke Isle on their way to Drudge. "Even though the Crones are gone, Velen is still under some force's control. It's hardly as strong, but still something to reckon with."

"And that Thecla might know what it is," Ciri murmured, leaning onto the railing of the boat to let one hand lazily dip into the water below.

He smiled instead of answering and gave wide berth to the Fyke Isle shore where drowners were lurking.

The sun was sinking behind the treetops when they stepped onto the land in Drudge and returned the boat to its owners.

"We can get a meal in Lindenvale before Novigrad if you like," Kain said when they were approaching their grazing horses.

Ciri nodded. "I'd like that." In fact, she was ravenous. And who knew? Maybe after a heavy meal, Kain would feel like spending the night?

"I'd like that a lot."

With a sly smile, she closed the distance between herself and Kelpie, climbing onto her back and galloping away, expecting Kain to catch up.

* * *

When night fell, Dandelion, in his new purple velvet attire, stepped up to Yennefer's door and knocked. While he waited, the bard leaned back to catch sight of himself in the hallway window, fixing the angle of his hat so it sat just right.

Yennefer was in the middle of adding the final touches to her outfit—her signature perfume—when she heard Dandelion's expected knock. No one else had dared to bother her apart from the innkeeper and he'd come and gone less than an hour ago.

She checked on her reflection in the mirror a final time. The dress was its usual black, with thick shoulder straps, a bustiere top replicating a corset, and half-attached sleeves that flowed down each arm with lace that swept over her hands in a shade of dark purple. She also wore her obsidian star. The seamstress had done splendidly in such a short amount of time and Yennefer was satisfied that the dress was suitable enough for the ostentatious and noble occasion.

Yennefer twisted away from the mirror and seconds later opened the door. She scrutinized Dandelion from head to toe without much of her thoughts being given away on her features.

"Is the hat truly necessary?"

Dandelion looked appropriately affronted. "I would no more have left my house without a hat than I would my trousers, good lady! For what is a man without a hat?"

He paused dramatically and stared into the empty air. "Just a fool in a doublet."

Yennefer's marvellous gown caught his eye at last and he smiled. "And you look beautiful. It will be an honour to have you on my arm tonight."

Even if he knew this particular encounter would not end in a blissful state of naked entangled limbs.

But what did that matter in the grand scheme? Dandelion was being charitable and kind. He could sacrifice one night for that endeavour.

Yennefer refrained from saying that he looked like a fool with a hat, the corners of her mouth twitching at his compliment. She tipped her head, took his arm lightly, and allowed him to lead her out of the inn toward their party. "It's been some time since I've seen you with your blonde minstrel. I also haven't seen her at the Inn in Novigrad."

"Priscilla left for Gors Velen before the attack on Oxenfurt. She brought a few of our musically gifted friends to arrange future performances there. She may be gone a while yet. The journey is quite long," Dandelion said, leading Yennefer outside and down the street.

It was particularly crowded tonight and, judging by the multitude of couples in fine clothing heading the same way as Dandelion and Yennefer, it was all due to the party.

"Have you attended any of the Vegelbud feasts before? They are quite a treat. The masquerades especially. It is always so tantalizing to not truly know with whom you are fornicating in the hedge maze."

Yennefer had attended a number of masquerades herself over the years so she could agree. She did so silently. "I have heard of the Vegelbud's but I've never had the chance to meet them. Do you know them personally?" She amusedly wondered if he'd taken one of the prestige's family's daughters into that fine hedge.

"I am acquainted with the matriarch of the family. Ingrid." Dandelion eluded the story of how they knew each other. "And Zoltan is fairly friendly with her nephew, Luc, the one who arranges those famous horseraces in Novigrad. Black sheep of the family, that one."

Dandelion clucked his tongue, though there was an impish gleam in his eyes.

"Gambling is so unseemly."

"Very," Yennefer agreed straight-faced, finding his joviality to be easy to match as there wasn't any approaching distresses hanging between them on an emotional level or awkward rift. "Can I expect there to be any such clandestine gambling in the shadows tonight?"

It wasn't unheard of for horse races to be part of the festivities, especially when one's family owned or profited from such an event. Nobles' greed was no different from that of their poorer counterparts.

"Perhaps," Dandelion mused. "Though I would not expect horses. Ingrid thoroughly disapproves of Luc's activities. I've even heard she loathes the man himself."

They soon came up to a very fine and tall townhouse. It was nowhere near the size of the Vegelbud mansion in Novigrad, with its accompanying garden and maze, but it was an impressive home nonetheless.

Dandelion produced his invitation from his pocket and handed it to the man at the door, who then hurried to admit them inside.

Inside, the townhouse had been decorated with all the grandeur of a mock citadel. Rich stretches of fabric draped between the lights in a sequence of three colors Yennefer presumed the Vegelbud used for representation.

Like most banquets, there were two tables on both sides of the room. One with a variety of finger foods and another with an assortment of different wines. A small number of partygoers that had arrived before them had already gathered around the tables, conversing and pecking.

Others danced freely to the harmony provided by a three-man group of performers toward the middle of the well-lit room, picking up where they'd presumably left off with the Inn earlier in the day.

Lastly, those they'd followed in made their presence known to the hosts.

"Dandelion," Ingrid cooed warmly as soon as they'd made it to the front of the line, extending her right hand for him to take. "And Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg."

Yennefer wasn't surprised that the woman had found out who she was. The Vegelbud family had a lot of power in the Redanian state, and more specifically Novigrad and its surroundings.

"Ingrid! Darling!" Dandelion took the woman's offered hand and bent to kiss her delicate knuckles, ensuring to keep eye contact the entire time. Some may have thought the bard as taking too many liberties, but he knew where the lines were drawn and the gleam of enjoyment in Ingrid's eyes told him he had yet to cross it.

She was a woman in her late forties and a widow, at that. Dandelion expected, despite her charming looks and fortune, Ingrid no longer received as much attention as the younger ladies in town.

"Thank you for your gracious invitation. What an honor!"

Ingrid smiled kindly and withdrew her hand. "It is my pleasure to provide some comfort to the people of Oxenfurt in these difficult times. I trust you are both well?"

"As well as can be," Yennefer replied, bowing her head respectfully in thanks. Ingrid's attention shifted to Yennefer, reflexively the woman's thoughts about Novigrad bank came to mind, along with weariness and guarded suspicion. Ingrid had the decency to make no mention of her feelings on the matter and what she knew of Yennefer's alleged ties to the incident. Yennefer imagined she had a lot invested in Novigrad's banking system, so it didn't come as a surprise to Yennefer that Ingrid or her family would have been informed of the loss their might have been or who they suspected was behind it. In a situation like that the rich demanded answers and assurances. Gratefully Geralt and his quick thinking had spared Yennefer any cause for outward insult.

"Can we expect the Witcher Geralt to be joining us this evening?" Ingrid asked politely, her gaze sparkling as it returned to Dandelion, a tinge of color in her cheeks.

"Afraid not," Dandelion apologized. "Geralt is off on one of his urgent contracts."

"That's a shame," Ingrid said. "I would quite like to thank him again for the kindness he showed me last time we met."

Upon Dandelion and Yennefer's curious silence, she continued. "Geralt of Rivia and Triss Merrigold assisted my son in getting out of Novigrad undetected. Back when the witch hunters were still roaming the city like hungry wolves.

"Albert has always liked to dabble in alchemy," Ingrid explained, a slight frown on her petty face. "He caught the witch hunters' attention. But thanks to your friends, he managed to get away before they could attack the estate. He is safely in Kovir now."

"When next we see him, we'll be sure to pass along the news that your son is well. I'm sure Geralt and Triss would be delighted to hear an update and know that their undertakings have been successful. May he stay safe," Yennefer said, loathing that her tone sounded jealous to herself.

No one else would have been able to tell if they didn't know her, but she knew it, could feel it at the very depth of her soul when she remembered the look on his face after she'd mentioned Fringilla and Triss vying for his attention.

Thankfully she was able to deflect any more pleasantries as more folks had arrived and were waiting their turn to greet Ingrid.

"If you'll excuse me," she began politely, offering the woman a last tip of her head in recognition of her hosting status. "I think I'll help myself to a glass of wine."

Or three.

She waited on Ingrid's acknowledgement—that came a second later—and headed for one of the tables, choosing one with less of a crowd so she could save on the continued pleasantries while she worked on getting herself in the right mood.

What Ingrid had said wasn't old news to her, and yet Yennefer could hardly understand why she was so bothered that they'd worked together, that they'd had some kind of success? It wasn't as if Yennefer and Geralt hadn't had their own successes over the years despite the volatility of their relationship. Maybe it was because she knew what it must have been like with them working so closely together. Triss could hardly control herself around Geralt and undoubtedly there had been some kind of re-visitation of her feelings. What if with Yen outside of the picture the outcome hadn't been the same? What if he remembered loving the troublesome redhead? Would Yennefer be able to wish him well and let him be with someone else?

She'd promised Ciri she wouldn't go anywhere, that no matter what happened they'd stay together, but the idea of being forced to watch from the sidelines while he moved on with someone else or to someone else sickened her.

Dandelion, oblivious to Yennefer's pain, cheerfully strutted along behind her, surveying the room while he did so.

"Good crowd," he surmised, twirling once after claiming a glass of wine for himself, so he could continue eyeing the other guests. A young woman in a ruby gown sauntered past and Dandelion found it difficult to look away. "Good, indeed."

Yennefer scowled, studying Dandelion contemptuously while she drank.

"What is it with you and Geralt never being satisfied with what's under your noses?"

She proceeded to tap his nose, to steal his attention away from the ruby-gowned woman he was practically undressing with his sparkling gaze. Earlier she'd encouraged his behaviour, found it amusing, now she only found it irritating.

Dandelion blinked. "You mean... you?" he questioned, looking her up and down as if he'd never even considered Yennefer an option. And he hadn't. At least not lately. And not because she was not stunningly beautiful and enticing but because... well, Geralt. And truth be told. the sorceress had always frightened Dandelion. Just a little.

She hadn't meant herself, but now that he'd brought it up – why not? And why did he say it with such a vast amount of disbelief and confusion? She knew for a fact he appreciated her tits.

"You invited me to this get-together. What do you think others will think of me if my escort is ogling every walking pair of breasts with a half-decent hairdo?"

She narrowed her eyes, daring him to try and conclude that thought with anything other than what she wanted to hear.

Dandelion blinked again. "Right."

He cleared his throat and tried to look repentant, offering her his hand with a dramatic bow. "Would you care to dance then, Lady Yennefer?"

He was not going to suggest the other thought that had crossed his mind. She'd turn him into a toad for the audacity.

Yennefer considered his outstretched hand and then drained her glass, unperturbed with what anyone else might think of her drinking habits. Who were they to judge?

Without a word, she set her hand in his own and let him take the lead this time to fit them into the slew of bodies already moving together in the middle of the room.

Dandelion cautiously placed one hand on Yennefer's thin waist, assuming she would not mind. She hadn't when they danced earlier in the day.

The tune played by the minstrels was slow, so rather than twirling the sorceress under his arm, Dandelion was forced to keep her close.

Heat crept up the back of his neck. Soon he would start to perspire! He could only imagine what Geralt would say had he seen them now.

Only... perhaps he would not care in the least? That struck Dandelion as immensely sad. He did not want the love that had inspired so many of his famous ballads to be broken.

Yennefer felt the waves of ailing emotions rushing off Dandelion, incredulous to find that it was laced with sadness. For her? For him?

At the moment she didn't care.

He didn't move like Geralt, nor did he smell or feel like him, but there was enough of a shared history that allowed for her to use him as a substitute.

"Do you think it's possible to make him jealous?" Yennefer asked, unafraid of admitting that she'd taken a glimpse into the troubadour's mind, her free hand making its way up and around his shoulder, toying with the ends of his hair lightly. "I know Geralt currently finds me desirable, but if my understanding of our last altercation is anything to go by, he doesn't want to be possessed by me."

"Every man gets jealous," Dandelion declared softly, a shiver rippling down his spine when Yennefer's fingers came to toy with his hair. It was such a bizarre move on her part, so unpredictable and unlikely. Dandelion felt baffled. "But whether or not that jealousy is fleeting or lasting, that depends on the man. And the woman he desires."

He pulled back a little to look the sorceress in the eye.

"And do you want to possess him? Like a toy?"

"A toy?" Yennefer echoed, the movement of her hand stilling at his neck, her eyes narrowing on his face although she continued to dance. That had been a strong choice of word. "With all the material gifted to for your glorious ballads, what do you think?"

Geralt had never told her how he felt about their time in Vengerberg, and given the state of his mind as of today, he couldn't remember. Would he have told the troubadour why he left? Despite Dandelion's penchant for drama and eternal poems, the two were confidantes.

"You did not answer my question," Dandelion pointed out, gently swaying. "Do you want to possess him?"

There had always been rumors. Rumors of Yennefer treating Geralt as though he was disposable. But even though the dramatic in him wanted to latch onto that juicy gossip, Dandelion could admit to himself he wanted the truth.

He had heard Geralt's version over the years. But never Yennefer's.

"What is love and being loved, if not a form of possession?" Yennefer asked. Dandelion was a renowned poet. He had to have some kind of understanding of the feeling even if he had a tendency of seeking out the beginning portion over and over. Who didn't love the feeling of getting to know someone for the first time? Of experiencing only the good parts? Not that her relationship with Geralt had started off that way. Those came later, in many forms. "Being with someone dictates the way they potentially look at the rest of the world. At anyone else. You, almost having died for that very reason, should know that better than anyone else."

She shifted the hand, sliding it across his throat gently, squeezing to emphasize what she was talking about.

"How many times have you escaped being possessed?"

Dandelion swallowed against the motion of her fingers across his throat.

His near execution in Toussaint was not a fond one. Mostly because so much had been lost that day. Dandelion's property in Toussaint included.

"I escape every night!" he declared proudly. "I am in very high demand, you know. Especially here, in the larger cities. I cannot fault the beautiful maidens for wanting to keep me, of course. But my true love is my music, my craft! No woman, no matter how spectacular, can come close to that."

"Not even Priscilla?" Yennefer asked curiously. From what she knew of their relationship the woman had done quite a bit for him. "Not even a little?"

"Oh, uh," Dandelion was starting to perspire again.

Luckily, Ingrid Vegelbud chose that moment to approach them, just as the music came to an end.

"Dandelion, I have some friends I'd love for you to meet." She leaned in a little to whisper. "A minstrel from Emperor Emhyr Var Emreis' court. He is quite an admirer of yours."

She looked to Yennefer and gave a slight smile. "Do you mind me pulling him away for a few minutes?"

"By all means, please do," Yennefer said with respect to the intrusion and Ingrid's request. She had wanted to hear what Dandelion had to say about the blonde he appeared so close with and argue the contradictions. Yennefer knew how easy and wonderful it could be meeting new people as she herself had spent many years fornicating with varying men that struck her fancy, but there had never been a permanent fixture apart from Geralt and Istredd in over a hundred years. They'd both served their purpose throughout the shakiness until one outshone the other and going back got harder and harder. She wasn't even sure how, when for the longest time she'd only found herself anchored to and comfortable with Istredd. At least that had been the thought.

Her body, mind, and heart had thought differently and she'd hardly caught up until it was too late.

Until she'd ruined it.

She smiled at the two and then turned away to let them get to it, heading back to the table for more wine. Yennefer hadn't been alone long when another man appeared at her side, briefly shared some words with her, and coaxed her into another dance.


	77. Chapter 77

Geralt was staring at the milk and rabbit blood droplets soaking into the floor in a circle around the panting Pellar, the silence was only interrupted by the soft ringing of Princess's bell on her collar as the goat chewed, and the old man's heavy breathing. The Pellar was rubbing his temples, blinking to restore his normal vision. It was a hard one and left aching bones and a restricted chest behind.

"Some nebulous matter, this," the Pellar muttered, rising from his haunches to lower heavily on the worn wooden bench at the wall.

"Your presage about Anna and her child made more sense than this," Geralt said, hardly smoothing the sharp edge of disappointment from his voice.

"Pellar knows, White Wolf, Pellar knows." The old man sighed. "Some visions come easier, some truths reveal themselves eagerly, but some elude and flow in silky ribbons slithering between the fingers."

Geralt tried to overcome his irrational anger at the Pellar for his vague visions, at destiny and fate and all forces that kept endangering Ciri and trying to take her away from him - at that stupid, entitled wheel of events Avallac'h was proudly explaining back in the cave years ago telling the Witcher that he would find her only to lose again. His heart was thudding quicker than he was used to, and it created an unpleasant tightness in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and made an effort to focus.

"You said she's light dimming in the dark," he recited, peering at the soothsayer. "The dark that's giving birth to Three."

"Aye," the Pellar nodded, scratching his balding head. "What came to Pellar, he told you."

"The Crones are dead. What Three is this about?"

"Pellar knows not, White Wolf."

"Is she possessed?" Geralt asked, fearing the response. "Maybe those Crones managed to possess Ciri?"

"Pellar saw no possession, but much is concealed. Much is concealed. We all have dark in us. We do have light. They battle in souls of men, and sometimes dark wins."

Geralt shook his head abruptly, he didn't want to accept it. "You also said that the oren is paid."

"Aye, mayhap Pellar said so," the old man agreed. "Do you know of any orens?"

The Witcher, once again squelching his irritation, tried to think. "There was a damned oren the blind woman gave me on the Bald Mountain."

"The blind woman that sees... Ah, Pellar heard of her, aye. Not much. Some women come to Pellar, some go seek a woman that understands and sees what they believe Pellar does not, for Pellar is a man, and men upset them."

"If I have to find that crone, where is she?"

"Pellar knows not," the soothsayer shook his head remorsefully. "Old Pellar wished to help the White Wolf with all his heart, and he knows who might help."

Geralt looked up at him with a spark of hope, albeit faint but present.

* * *

The dusk was draining the last of the sunset colors from the sky when Kain and Ciri rode into the Crossroads Inn's yard. There were several horses chewing hay, and barely two spare tables inside.

The patrons shot curious glances their way, but then returned to their drinks and noisy conversations.

"Greetings," the innkeeper sneered at them. "No spare rooms this night, but meals we do offer."

"Works for us," Kain nodded.

"Good," the man waved toward the corner. "I believe there's still a free table. What do we bring yee?"

"What do you have?"

"Fried potatoes with mushrooms with fresh vegetables and mead."

They nodded and proceeded to their table.

"All the rooms are taken," Ciri mused as they sat down. "Strange. Are people coming or going?" It seemed an unlikely place for anyone to want to come.

Kain shrugged. "Probably merchants on their way to or from Novigrad with its gates being open again."

Ciri hummed in vague agreement.

"So this is really where you were while on your... contract?"

He looked at her with a hint of reprimand. "I was in Velen. I didn't lie to you."

"Slaying errant creatures attacking the villages," she murmured, her gaze shrewd in the dim lighting of the candles. "A trap then as well? Or by chance?"

"I was questioning people and hunting information rather than creatures."

"Did you get paid?" She smiled, head tilted. "Did you leave here with more coin than you had when you came?"

He chortled softly. "It wasn't about money. People got butchered, and we had to find out how to prevent another massacre."

"Then it's not truly a contract, is it?" She said it airily as if it meant nothing to her. The truth was something else entirely. "Why would Geralt leave you behind to handle this alone when people were dying? He had no idea there was trouble in Novigrad."

"He decided to check on his friends and make sure things were fine there." Kain perked up an eyebrow, "Is that strange to you?"

"Yes," she said. "But then again, everyone has been strange lately."

"How so?"

She shrugged, averting her gaze to the innkeeper, idly watching his activities. "You look at me strangely. You all do. You think I don't notice, but I do. You, Geralt, Dandelion, Yennefer... Sometimes you look at me as though I am a stranger intruding."

"You're not a stranger to us, but you do say and do strange things - things none of us thought you'd do. You've become harsher towards people. You don't want to help anyone anymore."

Her gaze shot back to him, her lips twisting in a displeased mien. "That's a bold assumption to make. My mission has not changed. And if I succeed I will save many lives in this world. Most, in fact."

"What is your mission?" He narrowed his eyes. "Destroy Aen Elle? Or the Frost?"

"First one, then the other."

He made no response and looked at the maid that brought a tray with their meals. She smiled sheepishly and hurried to put the plates down, darting her eyes between them.

Kain thanked her, and she curtsied with a giggle, blushing adorably, and poured their mead. He glanced after her when she went away, then picked up his fork.

Ciri didn't miss their brief exchange and ice-cold fury instantly gripped her. "Planning to fuck her? She seems willing. Could take it as payment for our work."

He stared at her, stupefied and frozen with his fork on its way to a potato. He swallowed, composing himself, and lowered it. "I'm not planning to fuck her or anyone else," he stated in an even tone. "I didn't lie about that, either."

Ciri only smiled. She leaned back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. In the matter of a few seconds, she had gone from furious to airy once more.

"Do you think there are witchers who have done such a thing? Demanded sex as payment for a contract?"

He felt weary with constant bafflement at how her moods swung. He could sense the solution under his nose, but couldn't quite put the last pieces together yet. He was close, but she didn't make it easier.

"As an addition to payment, more likely," he responded, forking a potato. "Some Cats I knew did that. None had to demand, however."

"Why? Are all witchers so attractive people cannot help themselves?" Ciri snorted, reaching for her mead. "Surely there has to be one short and fat specimen in the club."

"Short and fat specimens wouldn't survive training and fights. And it's not about how attractive a witcher is. It's the way he presents himself and all the mystery and myths surrounding our guild that makes him more interesting."

Ciri was not so certain of that. But she had no evidence to prove him wrong.

So she began to eat.

"Is a Witcher allowed to retire when it suits him?" That particular topic had never been covered during her training, nor her lessons with Vesemir. "You weren't working when we met."

"I stopped being a witcher when I killed my partner for Griffin. I had to hide and search for my path again. It took a while and some choices I wasn't fond of.

"Any witcher is free to decide, but few stop being witchers before they die. Only corrupt or whimsical ones like some of the Cat School. I never met anyone like Geralt who would decide to stop being what he is on a whim."

"Few of you chose the life," Ciri commented. "So, it shouldn't be a sin to want something different."

"Not so few of us chose feudal intrigues and assassination contracts," Kain retorted. "It's not life. I'm yet to meet someone who chose an actual life over his duty."

"Assassination. Like with Radovid," Ciri grinned. "Did you know he and I were formally betrothed as children? Suppose I dodged an arrow there."

"I'm certain he wasn't the only option. And who knows, you could've made him a better man."

"My grandmother was quite cross when the King broke the engagement, actually. He never revealed the reason."

As for making him a better man, Ciri had her doubts there. It was more likely she would have turned cruel and insane, like him.

"He lost his father early and was influenced by Philippa Eilhart. I suppose it all played its destructive role in his decline as a ruler. It's unfortunate."

Ciri shrugged again, not truly caring either way. "He's no concern of ours anymore."

Kain didn't care to continue the pointless discussion, either, and focused on chewing while his mind kept trying to go through things they found out.

* * *

Half an hour later, Dandelion was well on his way to intoxication. With his third cup of wine in hand, he sauntered back in Yennefer's direction. Whereas he had been introduced and made merry with several of the other attendees, Yennefer appeared to have remained alone. Was it melancholy, he wondered? Were her thoughts so consumed with Geralt she could not find a moment of distraction?

"Are you sulking?" he asked brazenly, accidentally sloshing a good amount of wine onto the floor from another dramatic hand gesture. "You should take advantage of these lovely people! Have some fun!"

Yennefer made an automatic attempt to steer clear of the wine the troubadour had accidentally messed. She'd danced a little with the man – even flirted – and then excused herself.

She had no idea when that was or why but she'd instead remained at the table as she'd warned Geralt in the past was in poor taste and hoarded anything that looked remotely edible.

"I am having fun," Yennefer countered, sounding defensive. "I'm taking advantage of the wine. I see you've done the same," she said, wrinkling her nose with fleeting distaste. "Only you've little tolerance and look as if you're having a hard time staying on your feet!"

"The ladies keep plying me with wine," Dandelion responded. "It would be rude of me to decline!"

"Ridiculous! You're playing right into their hands. How do you know they aren't out to take advantage of you? How many times have you been robbed?"

Dandelion scoffed. "Robbed? At the Vengelbud residence? Now, that is ridiculous. No one here has any reason to steal. They're all well off. More so than you and I."

He paused and took another sip of his drink, his eyes taking on a dreamy sheen.

"And their bosoms heave so heavenly with delight when I accept their offerings."

"You should impart that into your next ballad," Yennefer proposed, marginally tickled by the look on his face. Everything had reached a point of hilarity and she could almost say she was happy. She was also incredibly weary and unsure. Her head was beginning to spin and that ache at her center was making her feel uncomfortably needy. "I think I've had enough for the evening. We should go."

She drained her glass, took a hold of his elbow, and carefully started through those that remained for the door.

"Already? Are you sure?" Dandelion would, of course, escort her back to the inn. He was a gentleman, after all.

But he was far from done with the party. He'd have to return later.

He stood up a little straighter and made an effort not to sway on his feet as they headed for the door.

"I always thought you sorceresses had the endurance to play all night long. Is that not why you get along so well with witchers?"

"Plural?" Yennefer asked, slowing her stride until she'd stopped. Had he really just gone there? As if she had to prove that she knew how to have a good time! Or was it that Dandelion was referring to other mages that he'd heard about through the grapevine? "That's certainly one of many reasons Geralt and I get along. The only substantial reason as it stands at the moment."

Just as easily as she'd decided to leave, she'd decided to stay.

"Humans have weak tolerance levels when it comes to mead or any kind of drink. Have you visited the food tables? If you're going to keep up with me, you're going to have to get something into your stomach. I'm not one for dragging people around."

Before he could respond she'd steered him in that direction – practically dragging.

Dandelion tried not to grin in victory and failed horribly. He allowed the sorceress to drag him to the tables where they could indulge in the multitude of finger foods.

"You know, I always got the feeling you never much cared for me," he admitted while picking some grapes off a vine. "So either I was completely mistaken, or you feel so out of sorts you'd prefer my wretched company to solitude. Which is it?"

Yennefer's hand fell away from his elbow so he could help himself to whatever he felt would absorb the wine or mead he'd been consuming. Had Dandelion forgotten the last time they'd visited this topic of conversation or was it that he was digging for more? Could be the adrenaline from the near-death experience after she'd saved him and what might have followed thereafter made him forget the talk they'd had or the confessions shared.

She supposed she couldn't blame him.

"It's true that there are days when you open your mouth that I wish to close it for you and have felt tempted to do so on many an occasion, but I have never hated you. Apart from Geralt, we've never really had much in common and we've never tried to find out what that might be."

If she was honest, she wasn't all that enthusiastic about starting. She liked the man. Appreciated the role he played in Geralt's life and who he now was to Ciri. What more was needed?

"So you are not here because you are utterly miserable, then?" The poet challenged, uncharacteristically slinging an arm over her shoulder like he would Geralt. He sobered, just for a moment. "If it means anything, I am sorry you are in pain."

Even if Yennefer was in pain she wouldn't have admitted it and the way he pressed on assured her that he knew that. They might not talk much or confide in each other, but at least he'd come to learn more about her than the fact that she had a heart of ice. It made her think he saw her marginally different than most – more so than she'd ever given him credit for.

She found herself leaning into him slightly, playing along with the display of showy affection he'd offered her. Yennefer hadn't realized and nor would she admit how much she needed it. Their lives had been such chaos lately that she wasn't sure at times if there would ever be light again. At least not in favor of what she wanted.

"I thank you for saying so."

It did mean something. It meant that he could be labeled as a friend, someone she knew she could trust where Geralt was concerned but perhaps even herself. She hadn't been sure of that before. She smiled slightly, eased out from beneath his arm, and picked up a small flatbread with minced crab on top.

"Eat," she suggested, shoving it under his nose gently.

Dandelion let her feed him the appetizer, for a moment too busy chewing to speak. Which was probably Yennefer's plan all along, that wily minx!

When he finished, a fiendish smile claimed his handsome face. "So, tell me, mindreader, who among our fellow guests has a story worthy of a ballad?" He cast a look out onto the dancefloor where people continued to mingle. "Any juicy gossip?"

She'd been getting a lot of grief for reading people lately, and here Dandelion was encouraging her to make use of it. There was a sheer contradiction in that, and she was sure a lot of it had to do with the fact that they were both befuddled.

She averted her attention to the crowd while he ate, sorting through the rifts of information that assaulted her at once as soon as she opened herself up.

It didn't take her long to settle the challenge.

"The auburn-haired woman believes herself to be with child but is too afraid to tell her husband. I suspect because it's not his," Yennefer began, staying close to his side, keeping her voice low so that no one else could overhear what they were talking about. "He—" Yennefer said, subtly tossing an eye at one of the performers, a young boy that appeared to be seventeen, "-itches to visit a shaded corner with the ample bosom you'd been eyeing earlier. Eckardt of Yamurlak thinks your purple outfit is obnoxious and wonders what you'd look like without it."

Her lips twitched into a smirk as she continued.

"And it seems Ingrid doesn't only admire your ballads. She's also interested in your lute."

"Everyone admires that," Dandelion smirked confidently, subtly adjusting himself while casting a glance in Yamurlak's direction. "Obnoxious?! This is the latest fashion! Well, it will be once word gets around I am wearing it." He sighed mournfully. "It is so hard to be a beloved artist, Yennefer. The jealousy of these people..." He shook his head.

"Notoriety is a considerable burden for any one man. I'm sure you often assure them of their mistakes and unreasonable behaviors," Yennefer said with mock sympathy.

"I have had to engage in fisticuffs once or twice in my day," Dandelion admitted, smoothing a hand down his doublet. "For some, words are not enough."

"For some," Yennefer agreed.

She'd been scanning the crowd again for gossip when a middle-aged woman made her way to the table and accidentally brushed against Dandelion in search of food for herself. The woman wanted to be the cause for his next ballad and was trying to provide a scenario in which to talk to him more frankly, her ego driving her to outshine anyone else he'd made eyes at that evening, ever romantic and desperate in her attempts, although her actions were a touch subtle.

"Shall we take advantage of the music and attempt another dance?" Yennefer asked, no longer ready to hand her companion over to the next greedy wolf. She'd had enough of that with Geralt.

"Indeed, we shall!" Dandelion declared and offered the sorceress his hand. He needed to work off all those appetizers lest his beautiful clothes become too tight.

He took Yennefer by the waist when they reached their spot, bolder now than he normally would be. The wine helped. It was a wonderful aid!

Dandelion even took advantage of Yennefer's magnificent cleavage so up and close, allowing his eyes to rest there for a significant amount of time. He remembered having seen them in their full glory once before during the Golden Dragon Hunt. Worthy of their own ballad, that pair!

He briefly considered voicing this thought aloud but in the end decided against it, instead coaxing Yennefer to begin moving to the music.

Dancing with Dandelion grew easier and easier as the night progressed and before long they'd lost themselves to at least three other melodies. They drank and eventually even sang. Although Yennefer was the only one not to bother with the latter commotion, instead staying on the side-lines, listening as the others sang along with a variety of folk songs.

When the night drew to a close and the party-goers starting taking their leave, she was buzzed, a flush at her cheeks, and had to admit that the night had brought about an unexpected comfort.

She'd linked arms with Dandelion as they walked back to her Inn – as much for her own support – as it was for his.

"I have to admit that you surprised me tonight. I can't remember the last time I actually had this much fun. It's been… "

Years? Months? Ciri had been gone far too long and her heart too heavy.

"There is rarely joy in wartime," Dandelion lamented. "And if it is, it is short-lived. Usually found in the bottom of a wine barrel or between the legs of a saucy minx!"

She squeezed his arm in silent agreement, and then, before she knew what she was doing, drew him to a stop in the middle of the square and pressed her lips to his. She'd never felt any compulsion to kiss the troubadour and she'd hardly felt any kind of attraction, but tonight, for all his efforts to try and lift her spirits, that had changed – and significantly so.

Dandelion froze, his shock so complete he could not move for a few seconds. Until Yennefer's one-sided kiss became awkward. Noticeably so.

He pulled away gently, one hand resting on her shoulder. His lips tingled pleasantly, but in contrast, his stomach was tangled in knots.

"Yennefer," he murmured, "I cannot... I... You are a beautiful woman. No! That word does not even do you justice. Believe me. And if the circumstances were different...

"But there is Geralt. He is my best friend. I could never do such a thing to him. Forgive me."

If it was possible, his response to the kiss made her want him that much more. Perhaps because he'd called her beautiful, maybe because, unlike her own friends, he valued his friendship with Geralt.

"There is nothing to forgive," Yennefer reasoned calmly, not even the slightest bit offended that he hadn't returned the warmth. She should be. And yet all she felt was appreciation, more than she knew how to put into words. "You're a faithful friend. A respectable friend."

Yennefer raised a hand to his face, briefly touching his cheek before reaching up to straighten his lopsided hat as he'd done himself earlier and many times throughout the night.

"I've said it before, but I'm pleased he has you in his life." She flashed him a genuine smile that went beyond the usual half-measure. "I can get myself to bed from here. Why don't you try and safely get to your own?"

Dandelion felt relieved and some of his guilt faded.

"Are you certain? I don't mind escorting you." Even if Yennefer would probably be the one to defend them if they ran into trouble. It was simply the gesture of politeness and how a true gentleman should act.

"I'm certain. I know the way back."

The building was in view and she doubted anything would happen of interest. He wasn't staying at the Inn and Dandelion had a tendency of getting lost and in trouble. Their night had been good, she'd rather it stay that way.

"Thank you for inviting me to the auspicious gathering with your noble friends and entertaining me so thoroughly. I've had a fantastic time, Troubadour Dandelion."

She curtsied for gracefully, flashing him another smile that had lost some of its shine, and then started away.

"Goodbye, beautiful maiden! How you have broken my heart with your wiles and charms!" he shouted loudly, clutching his heart with a dramatic pained expression on his handsome face. He turned his gaze towards the heavens. "Oh, cruel world! Why must you torment me so? Am I never to find love?"

All at once, two young women who were seemingly on their way home from the Vengelbud party as well rushed to Dandelion's side. They urged him to wrap his arms over their shoulders so they could help him home, both cooing and wishing to take care of the heartbroken poet.

Dandelion turned his head, flashed Yennefer a jovial wink, then allowed them to lead him away.

* * *

They were silent a long while, each focusing on their meals. When Ciri finally spoke again, her plate was mostly empty.

"So we are to head back to Novigrad tonight?"

"Yes, we'll meet Geralt there and catch some sleep." Kain finished his mead and swept some grease on the bottom of the plate with a piece of potato, then sent it into his mouth.

"Shall I take us? It'll be quicker."

"You have such a magnificent mare and you don't like riding?" He gave her a curious look, finishing the last of his meal.

"I love riding. But my ability saves time."

He smiled. "If you're in a hurry, you can go. I will ride."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed. "I'm not leaving you alone when there are fiends out there."

Despite his gloomy reveries, he was amused. "I'm a witcher, I can take a fiend."

"You can. But the fiend can also take you. Depending on the situation."

He chuckled, getting up. "If a fiend takes me, I'm not a witcher worthy of living. We survive until we can't perform our duties anymore. And then we die. It's a normal course for a witcher."

He fished a few coins from his belt and left it on the table.

"So if I find you broken and bleeding from a monster attack, I should leave you and let life take its course?" she challenged, getting up as well and heading for the door. "Hardly."

"It's exactly what you need to do," he told her in all seriousness and sent a thank-you smile and nod to the maid before exiting the inn.

"I'd never. No matter how annoying you are being." The last statement was a direct jab at his friendly approach towards the maid. Ciri didn't like it. She wanted to claw the girl's eyes out.

They fetched Kelpie and Onyx outside and began their journey. If Kain was right, Geralt would be on his way, too.

Kain rode after Ciri, keeping Onyx a bit behind while contemplating everything she'd told him and what happened every time she used her magic. How different it was from before the Crones... Whatever happened to her, had to have happened in the Crones' dimension.

His inner wariness grew and wriggled inside him. He wished he could talk to Fealinn.

"You're lagging," Ciri said, throwing a glance over her shoulder. She didn't know why he was refusing to ride beside her.

"Your mare is faster," he said, pulled from his reverie. The lights of Novigrad were visible ahead. He spurred Onyx and rode past her.

That was more like it. Ciri grinned and rushed in behind him, Kelpie nipping at Onyx' behind.

They had to slow down to ride through the gate, and trotted down the empty street toward the inn. The stables were empty, and Ciri had to unsaddle Kelpie on her own. Kain took the leather belt substituting the reins off Onyx's neck and hung it on a hook, then picked up a brush to sweep over the stallion's back and sides while Onyx chewed on fresh hay.

"How are you feeling?" she asked after putting Kelpie's gear away, watching him while leaning against Onyx's stall door. "After this afternoon."

"I'm fine," he said, brushing the horse's rump. "Healed." He turned to look at her. "How about you? Your scratches faded on your face. Were there other wounds?"

Ciri touched her cheek absentmindedly. She had entirely forgotten about the scratches.

"No. Nothing else." Not that she remembered.

She slowly detached from the wall and stepped close, hands coming to rest on Kain's chest as she looked up at him from under her dark lashes.

"Though I've an itch you could scratch."

His hand stilled on the horse's coat, then slipped down to his side, his fingers tightening on the wooden sides of the brush. He felt pain and it sobered him a little, reminded of illusory normalcy he had to see through. Despite the yearning to dismiss alarm.

"I told you I can't," he uttered quietly.

"Because you don't want to hurt me," she whispered. "Because you don't want to be hurt. I won't hurt you, Kain." Ciri's eyes darkened noticeably. "I'll be ever so gentle."

He sensed something, as if a darker cloud passed inside her. Her aura was sporadic and murky and he couldn't understand how it was happening. It scared him. He felt his spine turn cold.

"No, Ciri, I cannot be with you that way," he said in an even tone, sounding strange even to himself.

Onyx snorted and shifted away, eyeballing them. Kelpie was staring, too, her ears pricked.

Ciri stared up at him. Her hands had stilled at his chest.

Then, suddenly, she grasped his throat, first with one hand, then another. She pushed him back against the stable wall, her face a mask of fury. "You don't get to say no. You don't get to push me away. This is supposed to happen." She squeezed him mercilessly, her whole body tight and tense. "You're mine."

He gaped at her, stiff but keeping his hands down to not fight her. He was still squeezing the brush in his fingers, he noticed, and it struck him as ridiculous. The whole scene was a bizarre show of ridiculousness.

She was like an essence of fury, a vengeful spirit that he had wronged. It hurt; her hands burned and stung, he barely breathed, but couldn't bring himself to touch her. A part of him still couldn't believe it was true, after all. It couldn't be Ciri, and yet she was.

"I—," he wheezed, "cannot… be… yours."

Kain's words rang in Ciri's head like a taunting echo. Her whole body was burning, and now tears stung her eyes as well.

She pushed away from him, looking at him as though he was the stranger now.

"Why do you keep hurting me like this?" she whispered, suddenly trembling with the onrush of grief and pain. "Why do you tell lies and deny me what belongs to me?"

He gasped for air, touching his free hand to his throat. It felt as if it had been scorched. He coughed and finally put the brush down; his fingers nagged from strain and wore deep imprints of the brush's edges.

Her pain hurt him more, however. Even recognizing an unnatural tint in her energy, he saw the pain was hers, piercing and shrill.

"Forgive me," he said, a bit husky, his face a mask of remorse. "One cannot belong to another. We cannot own each other."

Ciri shook her head. "I don't understand. I don't..."

Words were hard to find and suddenly she felt so very tired, her earlier rage had gone and left an empty shell in its wake.

She didn't say anything further. She merely turned around and left, feeling like the earth was shaking and swaying beneath her.

"Ciri, please!" His heart was aching, making it hard to breathe. He made a few hasty steps after her, reached out but curled his fingers into a fist, and lowered his hand before it could touch her. "Please," he repeated, "understand me, Ciri! I would die for you, I'll protect you until my dying breath, but what you want… it's what I cannot give. It complicates things, it always does, and it always hurts. I don't want you to be hurt when you'd expect to be happy."

"Yes," Ciri whispered. "I understand."

Words said only so she could get away. If only she could lie down for a bit. If she could just close her eyes and breathe and...

Something was very wrong. But she couldn't figure out whether it was her or Kain. Or everyone else.

Something had changed. Shifted.

What was it?

Ciri staggered for the inn. She knew Kain could hear her anyway and didn't turn to call back over her shoulder. "I have to sleep. Tell Geralt... Tell him..." She paused a moment, in search of words again but came up empty. She gave a shrug and headed inside.

"I will," he responded before she disappeared inside. He leaned heavily onto the hitching rail, his head hung, and sighed. His throat still hurt, and he left it so. He felt like his whole soul was burning just the same as his throat did.

* * *

Geralt was staring down at the floor, saying nothing, and muscles in his cheeks were bulging as he ground his teeth. Fealinn poured him more cider, but he needed a stronger, much stronger drink. It wouldn't help, of course, but he couldn't focus without it. The finalization of the conclusion with all the evidence burdened him too much. He thought of Yennefer with longing, but then pushed it away and reached for the cider and lilted it out.

"It's not a possession, you say?" He raised his eyes to the elf woman, then turned them his brother's way.

"She said she drew from nature," Kain recited. "The nature was the bog – the place of their power. They're gone, we haven't found any signs to think otherwise, but their power was too strong. The land has been keeping it for too long, and when she drew from it…" He trailed off, looking grim, and ran a hand through his hair.

Geralt cursed and nodded his thanks to Fealinn, who refilled his mug before settling at the table.

"It's more like poison," Kain said. "That power, or rather its dark nature poisoned her. Acted like a drug clouding her judgement, addicting her to power she hasn't used before."

"What do we do with it now?" Geralt asked, and looked at Fealinn. "Can you heal her?"

"It's not something we can heal," the elf said, her voice soft and her face full of sympathy. "She's not ill, she's not crazy. She merely doesn't know any better."

"Her perception is corrupted by whatever filth that's seeped into her," Kain added. "She doesn't know anything is wrong with her. She thinks something is wrong with us."

"We cannot help her until she wants us to," Fealinn said. "Thinking of you as the ones who are wrong, she wouldn't accept any help. It would rather upset her greatly."

"And with her power and temper, there's no way to predict how bad her anger gets," Geralt said, and buried his face in his hands, sighing.

"I suspected it," said Kain after a while of silence. "Her aura was tainted at times, and then it was normal again. She's never been too calm or collected, so her flares of temper seemed her own. It's like that poison highlights her own dark impulses and drives them out of proportion. She doesn't separate it from herself, nor have I when trying to read her."

"It's true, it could be that," Fealinn agreed. "Ciri's had a hard life for many years, none of those traumas have gone away yet. And there is a dark side to her that was born during those dark years."

"We cannot cure her of her past," groaned Geralt into his hands. "It's impossible. She won't ever forget it."

"She doesn't have to forget it," Kain said. "She has to overcome it. She hasn't had the time."

"What then?" Geralt rubbed his eyes and looked at them. "What is there to be done?"

"She needs to want to get rid of it," Fealinn said. "You will not save her against her will."

They rode slowly along the riverbank, the night breeze breathing into their faces. They were silent for a long while, neither feeling up to speaking. Then Geralt turned to look at his brother in the light of the crescent moon that had just peeked from behind a cloud.

"Your pain," he said. "Is it worth it?"

"I don't know, anymore," Kain responded, his hand rising to rub his throat. It stopped aching, but he could still feel her phantom grip. "In my head I know it's right, but when she looks at me as though I've stabbed her in the heart, whatever I know in my head just stops being important."

"I know what you mean," Geralt said. "I know exactly what you mean."


	78. Chapter 78

Curled up in bed at _Rosemary and_ _Thyme_, Ciri wept. Hard. In solitude, it was easier to do so without fear of being judged.

She still felt the weight of Kain's rejection press down on her chest like a booted foot trying to suffocate her.

He didn't want her. She wasn't good enough. Not beautiful enough. Not strong enough. He saw her as a child. A silly child he had to protect for the sake of the world, and for Geralt. But no more.

He'd never want to stay with her after the war ended. Not after everything that had happened. And so, Kain would ride off with Geralt, because Geralt would surely have to choose his own blood over her. A gift he'd reluctantly been forced to accept.

And Yennefer would either go with them or, in the case she and Geralt did not work things out between themselves, would leave for elsewhere. Ciri would be the reminder the sorceress would not want to carry.

Ciri would be alone once more. Abandoned. Rejected. Because she was not the hero everyone wished her to be.

The door opened and Avallac'h stepped inside. His movements were cautious, his face neutral.

"Zireael?" he said, his voice soft as velvet. "What is the matter? What has happened?"

Ciri forced herself to stop crying and quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Nothing," she whispered, unable to withhold a tremble.

The elf sat down beside her, observing her with a mildly inquisitive gaze. Ciri knew it well. He wanted her to explain, to come clean without him having to ask again.

She stared up into his aquamarine eyes, so beautiful and clear.

"You'd never leave me, would you, Avallac'h?"

She could see her question had surprised him. His impassive mask fell for just a moment to reveal something else. A hint of affection, perhaps. Or something that could easily be mistaken for it.

"I would not," he responded calmly. "Why do you ask such a thing?"

"You would never leave me, no matter what might happen, no matter what I might do?" she pressed on.

He shook his head slowly, his gaze as earnest as Ciri had ever seen it. "No. I would not leave you, Zireael."

That was enough for her. Enough for right now.

Ciri reached for him, using the front of his robes to pull herself closer. And she kissed him. Hard. Demanding.

Avallac'h had frozen until he gently pushed her away. There was a crease to his brow that looked pained. "Zireael," he whispered. "This is not what I meant. I think you are confused."

Ciri didn't relent her grasp on his robes. "No. I know you want this. A part of you has always wanted this. I am offering it up to you now. So take it."

She tried to kiss him again but he abruptly stood, breaking her hold on him and putting space between them. "Zireael," he warned. "No. This is not the way..."

Fury exploded within Ciri anew for the second time that night and she rushed to her feet as well, her fist catching Avallac'h on the jaw as she swung for him.

"Who are you to reject me?!" she demanded, her eyes blazing. "You are nothing compared to me! Nothing compared to the blood that flows through my veins!"

Avallac'h looked shocked. He touched his jaw with one hand as if marvelling at the pain, at the surprise of it all. She'd never struck him before. Not like this.

When she came for him again, he was ready. He deflected her oncoming fist, his long fingers coiling around her wrist, his other hand grappling for Ciri's throat to force her back. "Calm yourself," he said, his voice never rising. "Control your temper."

It was the wrong move and rather than calming, Ciri exploded. She fought him with fists and legs, driving him back towards the door while Avallac'h did his best to deflect her attacks. A chair toppled over in their scurry, as did the iron pokers for the fireplace, clanging loudly as they met the floor. The whole room had erupted into loud chaos.

"Hey!" There was a heavy rapping on the door. "What's going on there?"

The door opened revealing a flabbergasted Zoltan. He froze for a moment, staring at their scuffle, then raised his hands, yelling, "Ciri! Lassie! Stop, hey, listen, lassie! STOP! What's gotten into ye?!"

Ciri hardly even noticed the dwarf where he stood in the doorway. She was too preoccupied taking her rage out on Avallac'h who was doing an admirable job at fending off her attacks.

Her rage was making her fight clumsily; she was not as graceful as she usually would have been, her strikes more like that of an enraged jungle cat than a witcher.

And when she finally did catch sight of Zoltan, she lunged for him as well. Simply because he was there. Simply because he had dared to interrupt.

Avallac'h caught her by the wrists again before she could claw at Zoltan's face, and he spun Ciri around and tightened his arms around hers, clamping them to her sides while he whispered in her ear.

All at once, Ciri's legs gave out from under her. Her whole body went limp and Avallac'h hoisted her against him before she could hit the floor. He carried her back over to the bed where he put her down and smoothed the hair away from her face.

She was still awake, still feeling everything, but her arms and legs felt too heavy to move even an inch.

That Aen Elle bastard had worked his magic on her, had subdued her with the means of a coward! Ciri was still seething but had no way of relaying that other than glaring up at the elf.

Avallac'h released a sigh and smoothed his robes, the scratches and blossoming bruises on his face standing out against his pale skin. He turned to the dwarf. "It is fine. I have it under control."

"Under control?!" Zoltan yelled, still shocked but also furious. "What the hell was that about? What did ye do to her, ye bloody whoreson?!"

Avallac'h barely spared the dwarf a look. His attention was on The Swallow. Even now, still and silent, he could feel the furious heat radiate off her like waves.

_Curious_.

"You saw her," he drawled eventually. "Unable to control her temper. I am giving her a chance to cool down without risking her harming anyone. Or worse, herself."

"She'd never lash out if ye didn't provoke her!" Zoltan argued, fisting his hands. "I want to know what the devil ye said or did to her?"

Avallac'h turned to him, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Well, if you are certain." He gestured with one hand towards the bed. "I refused her sexual advances. She did not take it well."

Zoltan's jaw dropped open, he stared at the elf like the latter was a loony. "Ye lying scum!" the dwarf growled. "Yer insane if ye want me to believe this horseshit!"

"I don't much care what you believe, dwarf," Avallac'h said. "It is of no importance."

He eyed Ciri intently, trying to see through the veil of anger. If he did not know better, he'd say she'd lost her mind. Snapped. But an inkling of doubt discarded that theory. She was different, though. Of that he was certain.

Ciri had never made any such advances in the past, except for the odd interaction they had a few days prior.

Was it The Elder Blood? Or was it the human in her, overpowering what little remained of her elven bloodline?

Zoltan made an impossible effort to not sock the elf one in the exact area he stated to have guarded against her advances and approached the bed. Ciri seemed awake, her eyes rolling wildly.

"Lassie..." Zoltan murmured, puzzled and beginning to be afraid. He turned to Avallac'h. "What did ye do to her? Can she talk?"

"If she could, she would be hurling curses at us without stop," Avallac'h remarked. "Give her a few minutes to calm. I only have to resort to these drastic measures when she loses control. She is not like a normal dh'oine, dwarf. She could level this building and everyone in it with a mere thought should she wish it strongly enough."

"And what, ye restrain her mind, too?" The dwarf folded his arms, preoccupied and gloomy. "It never happened while she was with us, Geralt and Dandelion and the Cat lad. Ye work her nerves into a wreck, elf."

"Words can have a great impact in the mouth of a magician," Avallac'h said, unconcerned with Zoltan's judgement.

He took a seat on the edge of Ciri's bed, allowing one hand to hover over her chest, deciphering her energy, her emotions.

"Breathe, Zireael," he encouraged in Elder Speech.

Ciri glared up at him, her eyes wet with tears once more. From frustration rather than pain this time. She wanted to destroy him. To pull him apart piece by piece.

But she was also so tired. And even keeping her eyes open required an enormous amount of effort. After a while, her breathing calmed and no longer left her in ragged, short bursts.

She was no longer able to fight the pull of sleep and her eyes fell shut. She slumbered.

Avallac'h, temporarily satisfied with the results, lay his hand on Ciri's forehead and whispered the incantation needed to allow her free reign of her body again. She did not wake. Only stirred, shifting to get into a more comfortable position.

"I don't like this one bit," Zoltan grumbled. Ciri seemed to be asleep now, and he hoped she truly was. He also hoped Geralt would return soon. "I'll wait for Geralt downstairs. And if somethin' is wrong with her, I'll blame yer skinny arse, jus so ye know."

He scoffed and left the room.

Triss was first to arrive, and Zoltan dashed to her from behind the bar counter where he had been entertaining himself with accounting.

"Thank gods at least someone came back," he said.

Triss stared, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"Hell if I know! Something with Ciri... She lost her temper with the damn elf, went completely mad kickin and screamin. Ye know where Yennefer is?"

"I... Oh, maybe in Oxenfurt... Shall I see Ciri? Is she all right?"

"He put her to sleep! Better get Yennefer, just in case. I don't trust his arse around her."

"All right, I'll go now." She focused and waved her hands, opening a swirling portal, and stepped in.

"Ye gods and little fishes," murmured the dwarf, rubbing his neck.

* * *

The raven-haired sorceress was undressed beneath the covers, lolling in and out, her head spinning from the wine she'd consumed when she sensed another body in her room. It took her drink-addled brain a minute to recognize the familiar energy signature. With everything going on and how quickly they needed to respond to one another to strategize, finding each other had been made easy for a time.

"What's happened?" Yennefer asked, scrubbing her fingers against her foggy eyes, trying to push herself up onto her elbows so she could peer at Triss.

"Oh dear, are you drunk?" Triss lit the candles with a short spell and gauged the sleepy sorceress.

"Of course not," Yennefer retorted mockingly. "But I am thirsty." She shifted, uncaring as the sheets fell away to parade her nudity.

"Zoltan asks you to return to Novigrad," Triss said. "Apparently Ciri had a nervous fit, and Avallac'h had to put her to sleep. Zoltan doesn't trust him, naturally."

Whatever drunkenness she felt sipping at the water from the jug beside her bed faded at the mention of Ciri's plight. Yennefer started to dress in her usual garb, brushing her hair away from her face, feeling hot and more exhausted than she'd have liked. The evening had caught up to her quite a bit.

"I swore to take Dandelion back to Novigrad in the morning. Perhaps you can do that?"

"Of course," Triss resigned. "Do you know where he's staying? At _The_ _Alchemy_, as usual?"

"I believe so," Yennefer said. She was doing up the last bits of her armor, beginning to gather the little belongings she'd brought together. "How'd your research go? Anything fruitful?"

"I was cleaning my poor house from all the destruction the witch hunters caused."

"Right," Yennefer offered. She'd forgotten that she'd been meaning to help with that. She didn't feel remorseful that she hadn't got around to it. "Is it livable again?"

"Not fully yet, since I was alone, and there are two stories... But it's getting there." Triss proffered a restrained smile. "I shall be going for Dandelion."

"There's nothing he'll be able to do back at the Inn tonight. Let him rest. Why don't you take my bed?" She gestured to the abandoned covers. Yennefer had paid for the room as it was so she knew Triss wouldn't be disturbed. Up to her.

She picked the dress up off the chair before the redhead could answer, slung it over her shoulder, clutching her bag with one hand and summoned a portal.

A moment later she was gone.

As if Triss would miss everything that was going on at Dandelion's cabaret. It wasn't going to happen.

As soon as Yennefer was gone, she went to _The Alchemy_, determined to wrench Dandelion out of bed in any state he might be in. A part of her wondered whether the two had spent the night together where unlimited drinks were being served.

Yennefer appeared in the room shared with Geralt at the _Rosemary and_ _Thyme_, tossed her belongings on the bed and went in search of Ciri. When she entered the room Avallac'h was seated on the edge of the bed. He almost looked stressed. Almost.

"What's wrong with her? Is she hurt?"

Yennefer had crossed the room to gauge her temperature.

Avallac'h did not even look up when the sorceress entered.

"Not hurt. But her emotions are... imbalanced."

"Imbalanced how? Do you have any idea what triggered her emotions?" Yennefer ran her fingers over the top of Ciri's hair, stroking gently.

"She made certain advances I could not accept," Avallac'h said simply.

"Advancements?" Yennefer asked, arching a brow for clarification. She had an idea of what he meant but she didn't know how to fully air the possibility.

"Sexual," Avallac'h clarified. "She was very distraught when I refused her."

"Where's Kain? Geralt?"

The elf shrugged. "How am I supposed to know where the witchers are? I am not their keeper."

"She was with them," Yennefer retorted, ignoring his tone. "At least she was supposed to be. Why did she come back without them? Did she say anything before she…"

Yennefer didn't bother speaking the unfinished insinuation.

"She was crying." That is all Avallac'h knew. He had no idea where the witchers were keeping themselves. Nor did he care very much.

Crying? Why would she be crying? Yennefer should have known that it was easily explainable with what happened and the connection of logical dots but she couldn't help but be afraid anyway.

"You've put her to sleep?"

"I restrained her. She tired herself out." Avallac'h's gaze drifted back to the girl who was slumbering peacefully. "First time I have had to."

Yennefer continued to stroke and brush Ciri's hair while she slept, leaning back against the wall for support. "Something's wrong with her. We haven't been able to figure out what. Is this… is it part of what you know of the Elder Blood?"

"The fiery temper, certainly. And the stubbornness. Her ancestor was the same. But she controlled it better. Concealed it. Ciri has yet to master that talent."

"How is she?" Triss inquired, slipping in. She swept a worried gaze over the elf and Yennefer, and to Ciri, approaching.

Yennefer let the subject go as soon as Triss appeared. She wasn't privy to taking the Elf's words as gold, but no one could deny that he did have a little more experience with Elder Blood.

"She's sleeping," Yennefer said, sliding up off the bed. "You brought Dandelion?"

"Yes," she replied, distracted by scrutinizing Ciri. "He's downstairs with Zoltan, whining."

Avallac'h stood. The presence of one sorceress was bad enough. Two was too many.

"I leave her in your hands for now then," he said and headed for the door.

Yennefer watched Avallac'h go and when the door closed behind him, directed a look at Triss. "You should get some rest. If tonight is anything to go by – come tomorrow – we've a long day ahead."

"Nonsense," Triss scoffed softly. "I won't leave while Ciri is in distress. Did he tell you what happened to her?"

Yennefer wasn't about to argue.

"No, he didn't tell me what happened. All he could do was speculate. I think everything she's endured over the last few years without us had just reached its peak."

She began to stroke Ciri's hair once more, glancing down at her face, observing how peaceful it looked and how contradictory to what Yennefer had apparently missed.

"Perhaps your issues with Geralt are working on her nerves so much," Triss suggested in a quiet voice. "Or her own issues with Geralt's brother."

"Perhaps," Yennefer said, her gaze fixed on Triss features. "You know what a toll matters of the heart can take on us sometimes. Outside influence… like war, don't make it any easier."

"No outside influence can be as deadly as the inside one," Triss commented with a sweet smile.

"Maybe so, but it's certainly enough to increase or add to what might already be wrong."

"If something is wrong, then it needs to be righted," Triss murmured, and shrugged. "Nothing is ever wrong with something right and destined."

* * *

Geralt and Kain were met by an anxious Zoltan and a tipsy and exhausted Dandelion who sat at the counter with a cup of water and couldn't keep his head up.

"What is happening here?" Geralt inquired, both witchers going tense. Both sensed what could be wrong.

"I was dragged away from the bosoms of two very lovely ladies!" Dandelion lamented, resting heavily against the bar top. "Oh, it was awful, Geralt. We were having such a lovely time."

Zoltan shot him a scowl. He hadn't been able to get a word in since the poet arrived.

"It's Ciri, Geralt," the dwarf said, confirming their fears. "She's had a fit, and the damned elf had to pacify her with some spell. It was nasty, they were fighting, she came at him like a wild cat. I never saw her behave that way… And that bastard had the nerve to state she wanted to bed him!"

Before they went into that door, Geralt thought he couldn't be surprised anymore, but here it was. Kain, however, wasn't surprised. Just a bit shaken by another proof of how deeply he hurt her. And how hard it was to get her back from the pit she kept digging herself into.

Dandelion blinked. "What?"

He scoffed and looked between them all.

"That is madness. Ciri would never attack someone unless threatened. It's that elf's fault, you hear!" He pointed a finger at Zoltan as if to say that is that.

"How am I supposed to know!" Zoltan yelled. "I woke to their fracas and went runnin, and she was tryin to scratch his eyes out! And the whoreson stated it was over rejection!"

Geralt felt very old and very tired. He sighed, lowering onto the nearest chair, running his fingers through his hair.

Dandelion looked from Zoltan's flushed face to the witchers again. They were uncharacteristically quiet where Ciri was concerned.

"Well?" he demanded. "What do you say to this?"

"What's with her now?" Kain asked.

"Sleepin," said Zoltan. "The elf put her to sleep. Yennefer and Triss must be with her now. I sent Triss for Yennefer, Geralt. I didn't know when you'd be back and that bloody elf-"

"Yes, I understand, thank you, Zoltan." Geralt looked up at Kain. "Bring Yennefer here. We'll have to explain."

Kain frowned dubiously, as if about to ask whether he was sure, but thought better of it and nodded. He jogged up the stairs and went to Ciri's room.

Both Triss and Yennefer glanced in the direction of the door as it swung open, cutting through the awkward silence that had descended on them.

"Is Geralt with you?" Yennefer asked as a greeting.

"Yes, he wishes to speak to you downstairs," Kain said and looked at the chestnut-haired mage. "If Triss is so kind as to keep an eye on Ciri."

"Of course," Triss smiled, tightening her teeth. She would love to be present for that talk.

Yennefer was reluctant to leave Ciri in case she should wake up, but she needed answers, and if Geralt was coming up here – there was no other way to get it. She stilled her hand, eased off the mattress and headed for the door.

When the mage and Kain came down, Geralt invited them all to sit and set about explaining. Kain helped and added things where needed, but mostly the Witcher spoke.

A long silence stretched after he was finished.

"So, the elf told the truth?" Zoltan asked, shaken. He rubbed his beard, looking paler than usual.

"I'm afraid so," Kain confirmed. "She's riled up, and it's usually how her magic makes her react."

"Damn Crones and elves!" Zoltan spat and pushed up from his chair. "I need a sodding drink."

"So, she is... evil?" Dandelion asked, his voice uncertain, his eyes wide.

"She's confused and misled by whatever she caught from the bog," Geralt said. "You know her, she is not evil. She is our little girl. We'll help her shake it. I'll do whatever it takes."

"We have a lead," Kain said. "But we need you to keep her busy next night so she doesn't go with us."

"Argh, if I can do anythin, I shall," Zoltan said. "Anythin for our lassie."

"Then someone else should go with Geralt to retrieve it or follow up with the lead. The trigger is apparent—" Yennefer paused to glance at Kain, hopeful he'd get the point." And the distraction could be as… useful. I've fought with her twice in my time with her and no one else is going to be able to keep her tied down long should they say the wrong thing."

Dandelion was still staring. "Trigger? What is the trigger exactly? Lust?"

"Her triggers are unpredictable," Geralt said. "She feels we are being strange and think bad things about her. It triggers her aggression, as well as any kinds of rejection does."

"She doesn't realize what is happening to her and projects it on the ones around her," said Kain. "It's obvious I cannot be around her without angering her one way or another. So it falls to you three to try and keep her here."

"Besides, Avallac'h is still around," Geralt said. "He can aid. He knows what to do when she loses control."

"Aye, he just knocks the lass out," scoffed Zoltan and poured them ale.

Yennefer clicked her tongue. "Fine. Then to keep her occupied – we should find stuff for her to do."

And not some kind of mission or anything to do with violence.

"Is there anything you need help with around the Inn, Zoltan?"

Zoltan snorted a laugh and drank. "There's nothing to excite a young lass. I would suppose ye shall have more luck with yer time with her, Yennefer. Motherly affection and such things, they do wonders."

"It's going to be the night time," Geralt reminded. "She would be sleeping, if we're all lucky."

Dandelion looked nervous. He was secretly longing to go back to the bedroom he had shared with the two young maidens whose names he had not quite caught. Things had been easier there.

"And if she figures out what we are doing? If she attacks? You have to be with her at all times, Yennefer. All times!"

Yennefer lips twitched at the insistence in Dandelion's voice.

"I'll do what I can. But you might care to join us…"

He was a free spirit, about fun—mostly—and there was a time Ciri took great comfort in his ballads, and only a handful of hours ago he'd provided Yennefer with what she'd needed.

Why couldn't he do the same for Ciri?

"Are you that scared of her, Dandelion?" Geralt inquired, narrowing his eyes at the bard.

Dandelion scoffed. "Scared? Of course not! But the last time we talked I apparently could not say anything right. She left the conversation looking very gloomy."

"She didn't hurt you," the Witcher emphasized, and directed his eyes to Yennefer - they glowed, reflecting candlelight. "Perhaps you and Ciri could attempt to locate the Aen Elle anchors, like the one they found with Kain in the bog."

"You'll need a detailed Continent map," Kain said. "It could be found in Oxenfurt Academy. Can't see why they wouldn't lend it to you."

"That's a good idea and something we could work on later," Yennefer agreed. "I think we should spend time helping her relax, keeping her grounded, steering her away from the necessity of her magic for the day. It's part of the trigger and if she is in fact possessed by some lingering aftereffects from the bog, then we need to give it as little opportunity to manifest as possible."

"And yet we need to find out where else the Aen Elle could have their Riders lurking," Geralt reasoned. "She won't want to relax now, Yen. Not with all that magic boiling in her. And your offer to do that might even upset her. The better choice is to direct her energy into something we need doing."

"I understand the importance of finding the Aen Elle. War doesn't wait. Ciri's well-being overweight's that and until you can follow up on your lead, I'd rather we play it safe. At least as much as we possibly can."

"It probably won't be as you plan, Yennefer," Kain said. "But since we can't convince you, Ciri will do it."

"We have a day tomorrow," Geralt said. "We can go to Oxenfurt and take a look at their maps."

"I've been at the library myself the last few days," Yennefer put in, "I'll follow up on the map. You should stay here with Ciri, Geralt. You've always anchored her and in times of distress, you've been the first she looks for."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that anymore," he said, a frown creasing his brow. "Seems like we annoy her more than comfort."

"I have the same concern," Yennefer countered. She worried, even more so now that it was confirmed there was something wrong with Ciri. "It doesn't change the fact that she needs you or that she loves you. When she was most afraid she always sought you out. This time isn't any different even if it presents itself that way. We know what's happening to her now and it isn't entirely her doing."

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Kain said, eyeing Yennefer. "This magic stimulates her own darker emotions, and even though it alters her perception, she acts on it out of her free will. She knows what she's doing. She is not possessed."

"That makes it more shite," Zoltan grumbled and drank. "Sodding magic... Nothing good ever comes from it."

Yennefer had nothing else to say on the matter. What more could she say? She had no idea what was going on with Ciri aside from what they'd told her and she was worried, scared of pushing a boundary they wouldn't be able to come back from.

* * *

Triss was sitting on the side of Ciri's bed, watching the girl's face. She turned and smiled brightly when the witchers came in on quiet feet.

"Can we have a moment, Triss?" Geralt asked.

"Oh, of course." She slipped off the bed and stood aside as Geralt approached. "She's deeply asleep."

"Thank you for keeping an eye on her," the Witcher smiled appreciatively at her.

Triss stroked his shoulder and nodded. Then went out the door, leaving them.

Ciri looked peaceful. It was hard for Kain to imagine she had been choking him earlier looking like a goddess of fury.

"Is that thing on her?" Geralt asked.

Kain nodded and bent to her, slipping his fingers in her shirt cleavage. He came back with the cameo of white stone. Geralt took it from him and studied; the stone sparkled in the dim candlelight.

"Lara," he murmured. "Still the symbol of their war." He put the cameo away into his belt pouch, then bent to Ciri and left a tender kiss on her temple. She stirred but slept on.

The witchers left as quietly as they came.

"I'll spend the night in the woods," Kain said.

Geralt frowned, then nodded. "Come back at dawn. We'll have a hard day."

Kain nodded and went jogged down the stairs. Dandelion, Zoltan and Yennefer still sat there: Zoltan was finishing his ale, Yennefer was brooding, and Dandelion nodding off and jerking awake.

"Get upstairs and sleep," Geralt said, shaking Dandelion's shoulder passing by. "We all should get some sleep."

Dandelion's elbow slipped off the bar counter and he jerked awake again, blinking.

"Right... Sleep... Bed...Yes."

He stood, looked around as though he had forgotten something, then moved towards the stairs.

"Aye, I better be goin back to bed," Zoltan said, and took empty mugs back to the kitchen before heading for the stairs.

"Think we can leave her alone in her room?" Geralt asked as Yennefer rose from the chair.

"It's probably best I stay with her tonight," Yennefer said, meeting his eyes. There was also their argument to consider and the fact that she'd blurred some lines a few days ago.

"You look tired," he said, brushing a strand of her hair away from her cheek, his finger stroking along her jawline. His mouth twitched in a small smile that dimmed almost immediately. "I don't want you to exhaust yourself. We need you rested tomorrow. Maybe it's all right if we leave her alone for the night?"

Geralt touched her with so much gentleness that her heart and other areas ached. First, he gets mad at her for being jealous, and then touches her as if their relationship hadn't changed at all. There were so many signs, so many things she thought she believed or was being led to believe that she wasn't sure what to hold onto. The hope was there, and yet, she now knew how fragile it was.

"I appreciate the concern, but I'll be fine. The exhaustion is self-inflicted. Moreover, I don't want Ciri to wake up alone after what's happened and get ideas to flee. Who knows what'll be on her mind when she wakes."

"You've been drinking," he said, smiling. "Like Dandelion. You don't need to torture yourself and stay up. Go have a good night. Please. I'll take care of Ciri. She won't escape anywhere. I promise."

Yennefer's head was beginning to pound, feeling heavier than usual and harder to keep upright. Her eyes burned, too. "Are you going to watch over her all night? If you're going to be following up on that lead tomorrow, it's probably best you get as much sleep as you can manage yourself."

"It'll be fine," he said, stroking his fingers down the side of her neck. "I can sleep in her room and wake up if she moves. Don't worry about me."

Yennefer reached up to still the movement of his hand as his fingers sliced through the exhaustion and awakened what it always did – need.

She never liked fighting with him, and she liked it even less now when she was sure that it would only take one misunderstanding to break it in two.

"I do worry about you," Yennefer said, squeezing his hand within her own before letting him go, presenting him with a parting smile as she headed for the stairs and his room.

He admired the view as she sauntered up the stairs, showing nearly no signs of the intoxication he had detected in her - some expensive wine, too. When she was out of sight, he went to the kitchen for a few swigs of water, then went to Ciri's room.

He took off his sword belt, threw her bed's plaid cover and a spare pillow on the floor and made himself as comfortable as he could get.

He drifted off as soon as his eyes closed.


	79. Chapter 79

Ciri woke the next morning with a headache and mild confusion as to what had happened the night before. She remembered Kain and Avallac'h and Zoltan, but not when or how she had fallen asleep.

Judging by the fact she was still fully clothed and even wearing boots, it had been sudden.

She sat up and stared down at Geralt snoozing on her floor. She didn't remember him coming here, either. Had Yennefer kicked him out of their room? Had he done something insensitive?

"Geralt?" Ciri said, watching him for signs of waking. It was possible he was too tired to come to so early in the morning.

Geralt jerked awake and blinked up at Ciri, rubbing the sand of sleep from his eyes. "What?"

"Why are you sleeping on my floor?"

"Guarding you against bad dreams," he said, rubbing his face. He stretched and put his hands under his head, eyeing her with mild amusement. "You mind my doing so?"

Ciri shook her head, hugging her knees to her chest. "No. It's just... you haven't done that since I was little."

A sad smile touched his mouth. "I missed too much since you were little."

She smiled as well. "Oh, I don't know. You got to be there for the beginning of my transition into womanhood. Skipped right to the end. I think lots of fathers would be grateful to be spared the emotional chaos of youth."

"Most fathers are there to protect their daughters during that trying time, and I wasn't." His jaw tightened. "I wasn't there when I was needed most."

"And if you had purposely abandoned me, I might feel quite upset about that," Ciri said. "But it was not your fault. And you know it."

"What I know and what I feel are disagreeing on that. I don't suppose it ever changes."

"We all have regrets. Even those we could do nothing about."

Ciri swept her legs off the bed and stood, straightening her clothes before freezing.

The anchor had gone missing. It was no longer safely nestled in her bosom.

She threw a look around the floor, then shook the bedding, even going so far as to upturn the mattress.

"Oh, no, no, no..."

"What's wrong?" He sat up with effort and a ghost of lament for such a short sleep.

"The anchor!" Ciri exclaimed, distraught. "I lost it. I can't believe I lost it. I had it just last night. I swear it, Geralt!"

"Don't fret, I have it." He got to his feet and scooped the cover and the pillow from the floor to deposit it on her bed. "It fell out from whatever hiding place you kept it, but didn't leave your bed."

She gave a relieved sigh, scrubbing her hands over her face before holding out her hand to reclaim the anchor.

"I suppose I must be more careful. Let me have it."

"It won't be wise," he declined. "It defeats the purpose of your dimeritium bracelets and leads them to you."

"Let them come then. I don't care." She did not lower her hand. "Give it to me, Geralt. I want it."

Why, she could not even truly explain to herself. Though it was the closest thing she had ever had to a family heirloom. The closest she had ever been to Lara.

Geralt didn't move to oblige. "You will - right after we learn how to rid it of its magic. Not before."

Ciri's eyes narrowed and she closed the distance between them, going for his belt where he kept his coin purse. It was the most logical place for him to keep it if he had it on his person.

Geralt caught her by the wrists, his face inscrutable. "I said later. You'll need to wait."

Ciri yanked her hands away, staring the witcher down with growing fury. "Give it to me. Now. Or I will take it."

"You will not," he said in an even tone. "You will have it later, like I said. Calm yourself, Ciri."

Ciri did not even hesitate. She struck out the moment the witcher had finished saying her name, the heel of her palm catching him in the throat. A move immediately followed by grabbing for the purse again, yanking at its strings to pull it off the belt entirely.

Geralt was being highly unreasonable. Stubborn without cause. And it annoyed her.

His breath hitched, but his instinct didn't falter, and his hands clasped on her wrists again. He squeezed the one holding the purse, and it fell down on the floor where he kicked it under the closet.

His eyes blazed at her, but his voice was the same calm coldness. "Calm yourself."

She tried to pull free again, but found it a lot harder now he was expecting it.

She met his gaze stubbornly, defiantly. "It's mine! My blood! You have no claim to it!"

His hold on her was firm as stone, his face as one of a statue. "You are my Child Surprise, I have full claim to you, whatever blood there is in you. Have you forgotten it?"

His words took Ciri aback, made something stir in her heart. She didn't like it. It hurt.

She stared up at him intently and for a split second Geralt's face changed. It was just a flash. So quick Ciri could have missed it entirely. But she didn't. She saw him covered in blood, lips loosely parted, and eyes still and glassy.

And as soon as it had come, it was over. And there was just Geralt again before her. Normal Geralt. Only angrier.

"Let go," she demanded. She couldn't stand to be in the room anymore. Couldn't stand to have him touch her.

The anchor forgotten, she tugged on her wrists with renewed, panicked vigor. "Let me go!"

He didn't. "Calm yourself," he said.

She couldn't. It was too much. Everything suddenly felt overwhelming. And she was scared.

"Let go," she repeated, though now her voice cracked with an oncoming bout of tears. She tugged, fingernails desperately clawing into his flesh wherever she could reach. Why wouldn't he relent? Why did he not feel pain the way other men did?

"Let me go, Geralt."

His heart shriveled in sorrow, but his face remained calm, his eyes scanning her. "When you're calm. Don't fight me, Ciri, I'm not your enemy. I love you more anything in the whole world. I won't hurt you. Calm down."

"Stop," she whispered. "Don't say such things."

Why did it hurt her to hear it? Why did she feel the need to pull away from something she had craved all her life?

"I'll hurt you." And it was the truth. She could feel it coming the longer he held on to her. Bubbling to the surface. "Don't make me."

"You don't want to," he said, his eyes searching hers. "Because we're family. I love you, Ciri. I won't let anything bad happen to you. Hear me, Ciri. I love you. I won't hurt you. Please, stop fighting me."

It was his own fault. He didn't heed her warning.

So when she invaded his mind with pain, making blood streak from his eyes and nose, she did not feel guilty. She simply fought him that much harder in order to free herself.

The pain was so intense it washed everything in black, and red flashes kept pulsating around with every bout of agony. He tasted blood, his head spun, but his hands holding her didn't loosen, for his focus had been too strong. He gasped and tried to blink away bloody tears.

"Ciri," he grunted. "Stop it... Ciri..."

"You stop it!" she hissed, unwilling to relent. "Let. Me. Go."

He growled in pain through his gritted teeth but didn't relent, either. "When you calm yourself," he uttered with effort. "Stop... fighting me..."

"Get away from me!" Ciri screamed, the spell breaking as she did so, the effort of upholding the magic already taking a lot out of her. She fought to catch her breath, her wrists aching from Geralt's hold on her.

And yet, she suspected she didn't look half as bad as he did at the moment. His face was covered in blood. Just like in her vision.

"You're going to die," she breathed eventually, her knees shaking, her muscles weakening no matter how hard she tried to uphold her earlier stance. "You're all going to die."

"It's not true," he said, trying to catch his breath now that pain eased a little. "Your visions are just that - mere visions. We make our own destiny." He could no longer help himself and pulled her closer to embrace her to his chest with one arm, still holding her other wrist. "Please, Ciri, listen to me. It's going to be all right. I promise."

Ciri's body couldn't fight him anymore. It relented, without her permission, and she slumped against Geralt's chest.

She hated herself for that weakness. Hated him for forcing it on her.

"You're going to die. And I'll lose my way. Again." It was the truth. She could feel it.

"I'm never leaving you again, you hear me?" He kissed her head, his eyes stung as he closed them. "I'm not going to die. You will never be alone again. You and I forever, Ciri, remember? Forever."

She didn't speak. Her mouth felt dry and her whole body ached. It was as though she had not caught any sleep at all the night earlier.

Ciri hung limp in Geralt's arms, too exhausted to demand he get away from her again, or to contest his words.

She was just so... tired.

He hoisted her up a bit and deposited her gently on her bed. He stroked her hair and wondered if Yennefer was up yet.

"Sleep some more," he whispered to Ciri. "It's early. You need more rest."

She didn't argue with him now either. Even if she had wanted to, her body was already agreeing with his assessment.

Her eyes slipped closed and she slept, her fingers still curled into fists.

He staggered back from her bed and lowered into a chair heavily. He brushed his hands over his face and they came away bloody. He cursed under his breath and felt too damn tired for anything.

He shifted his chair to the table, poured water from the pitcher into the small basin, and began to wash his face.

Triss slipped in so quietly he only noticed her from the corner of his eyes while fastening the pouch back to his belt.

"Oh gods, Geralt, are you all right?" Her blue eyes went wide, she took his face in her hands, studying, as she noticed pink water in the basin and blood on his shirt. "What happened?"

"Ciri went a bit emotional, it's fine. I'm fine." He made himself smile subtly. "Don't worry."

"It's horrible, Geralt," she lamented, wringing her hands as she looked at the sleeping girl. "Is she losing control of her powers?"

"She's just a bit tired of the whole war and elves threat," he said. "She didn't have any chance to rest."

"You've been with Nenneke, though," she reasoned. "I thought it would do you good."

"She was restless and feeling guilty as if she was hiding there. It didn't help much. It only could help if the threat was no more."

"Oh, but who knows when that happens and..." she looked at him sheepishly, "if it happens at all..."

He shook his head, fastening his sword belt. "It should. We'll do what we can."

"Of course. Can I help?"

"Yes, if you would sit with her? Call Avallac'h if something happens."

She looked worried but nodded. "I shall."

"Thank you."

"Where will you be going?"

"I need to think what to do next."

She nodded, smiled. "I'll be here." Before he moved away, she approached and put her hands on his shoulders. "Be careful, please."

He smiled warmly. "I promise. You, too. Ciri is a little unbalanced. Be on guard."

"I will."

* * *

Zoltan was up early despite the night scandal that had kept him up late. His mind was preoccupied with gloomy thoughts as he went downstairs and greeted the maids in the kitchen, then went to sort through accounting books.

Dandelion joined him a few minutes later, with red bloodshot eyes and a pounding headache. He immediately went for the water barrel to fetch himself a glass.

"Oh, gods, Zoltan. What an awful, awful night."

"Aye, rather nasty," Zoltan agreed, making notes in the books. "Probably not the last one of such, either." He raised his eyes to the poet and gave him a gauging look. "Ye look like shit. Ye even slept?"

"Barely! I was nursing my poor manhood into the early hours of the morning. He was already at half-mast when Triss so cruelly pulled me away from those lovely sisters."

Dandelion sighed and drank, immediately regretting it and attempting to keep the water down.

Zoltan burst out laughing despite his heinous mood. "Such a damn waste of a night," he mustered, wiping away tears of laughter. "Yer too reckless with the little time we get for shuteye these days."

Dandelion scowled; Zoltan's mirth at his excruciating pain and suffering was just unacceptable.

"As if you have not spent every night gambling your savings away," he muttered, his face sour.

"I won plenty!" Zoltan argued. "Not that ye know much about it wooing women or playin yer ballads." He waved a hand and returned to the accounting. "No one wins at all times. The trick is to win more than ye lose, is all."

"I swear, one day I will come home to find you've lost the inn," Dandelion snorted, trying to force himself to drink more water.

"Ye should be here and watch over yer inn more," the dwarf retorted.

Dandelion looked towards the stairs.

"Any word from Geralt yet?"

"No words or anythin. It's bloody early."

Kain entered a few minutes later. "Morning," he greeted, regarding them both in turn. "You're up early."

"By chance, kitten-lad," Zoltan said. "Worries don't bring long sleep. If only to women, they do."

Kain sat next to Dandelion, regarding him sympathetically. "You might want to go back to bed."

Zoltan chortled.

"I cannot," Dandelion lamented. "For I will find no sleep nor solace." He squinted at Kain. "Had you any more luck with slumber than the rest of us sorry buggers?"

"Seems like it. I sleep better in the woods." He peered at the poet with doubt. "Did something happen I don't know about?"

"Not to my knowledge," Dandelion murmured, barely stifling a yawn. "I fell asleep sometime before dawn and woke up to loud voices. Probably from outside."

"I heard somethin a bit back," Zoltan said. "Ciri and Geralt arguing, it might've been. Couldn't make out much, but then it went quiet. I couldn't sleep and went down here. Hell knows what's happening there with the lass."

"He spent his night with her?" Kain asked.

"I wouldn't leave her alone if I were him," the dwarf shrugged.

"Won't she become suspicious if one of us is always glued to her behind?" Dandelion commented.

"At this point, does it matter much if she does?" Zoltan asked, spreading his arms momentarily as he stepped from behind the counter. "What else are we supposed to do? Let her run where she pleases and get in trouble?"

Dandelion shrugged. "Holding her back may not give a better outcome."

"And what would, ye genius?" demanded Zoltan, his arms akimbo.

"I don't know. Is a man no longer allowed to speculate?"

Zoltan scoffed. "How's that helpin?"

Everyone turned as Geralt descended the stairs, looking as rundown as he had the night before.

"Did something happen to bring you here so early?" he asked. "Especially you, Dandelion."

Dandelion studied the witcher for a moment before grabbing the rag Zoltan had left on the bar, doused it with what remained of his water, and pressed it to his forehead. "Couldn't sleep. And we heard voices."

"What voices?" the Witcher inquired and sat next to Kain. Zoltan brought a pitcher of cider and mugs. He poured, and Geralt drank hungrily.

"I thought it was drunkards fighting outside, but Zoltan informs me it may have been you and Ciri."

"She's a bit upset with Avallac'h's methods of dealing with conflicts," Geralt said.

Dandelion snorted. "You mean by knocking her out? Yes, I should think so."

"She forgets she can level the city when upset," the dwarf put in and refilled mugs.

"Is she alone?" Kain asked.

"Triss is with her," Geralt said. "Yennefer is probably still asleep."

"So what is the plan for the day?" Dandelion asked. He'd heard murmurings about it the night before but remembered little. "Are Zoltan and I to stay here with Ciri and the sorceresses?"

"We're stayin because we have yer sodding cabaret to open," Zoltan said. "However, in our current mess, I don't know if we can, unless Yennefer takes the lass someplace else."

"Maybe she will," Geralt mused. "Ciri won't be fond of being locked up."

"Geralt," Zoltan began, looking sheepish and rubbing his neck, "ye sure Yennefer can handle it? I don't mean anythin... I mean, maybe we have to consider the elf for this. Not that Yennefer is weaker - no, but... the elf won't hesitate to, ehm... disarm her like back at the keep."

"I don't want to ask him to do such things," the Witcher said, looking grim.

"You don't think she would forgive you?" Dandelion asked, his tone cautious. "Ciri, I mean."

"Forgive me for what?" Geralt gave him a tired, gloomy look.

"If you were to ask Avallac'h to guard her."

"It's not about her forgiving me. I don't want him around her that much if I can help it. It's my problem to solve, not his."

* * *

Yennefer had barely slept despite all Geralt's good intentions. She was worried. What if Ciri woke up and lashed out? What did the possession mean in essence and what was this lead they were going to follow up on? She'd had to leave the banking issue in Geralt's hands but she wasn't so sure she could sit back and do nothing this time. She didn't mind babysitting Ciri, tending to her needs, but this was a magic issue – shouldn't Yennefer at least be there to consult what might be wrong? She'd been warring with it, with the thought, that somewhere before sunrise she disappeared to Oxenfurt and directly to the library.

She'd spent enough time within the four walls over the last few days to know where most the source material was, and before long, she'd returned to the inn with books about the crones, their legends and began to pour over the information.

She knew there was a possibility that the study might lead nowhere, but she felt better doing something other than sitting on her hands trying to wait it out.

Yennefer had filled herself a bath and submerged until she was wrinkled. When she got out twenty minutes later she was freshly dressed and all signs of exhaustion had been swept away with some help of magic.

With a determined step, she made her way out of the bedroom, stopping in with Ciri first to check and see if she was awake. Geralt wasn't with her.

"He's downstairs," Triss answered before Yennefer could ask about where he'd gone.

She shut the door without another word and headed downstairs, picking up on the array of voices already there.

"Not sure Avallac'h agrees," Dandelion commented, his gaze darting to the stairs when Yennefer appeared.

"Morning."

Everyone looked to Yennefer descending the stairs, graceful and magnificent as if the last night didn't happen, her eyes shining, her skin radiant.

"Morning, Yen," Geralt smiled, meeting her gaze. "How you feeling?"

"Like a dream," Yennefer retorted, returning the Witcher's smile, her eyes briefly delving to Dandelion in response to his greeting. "Everyone well?"

"That we are so far," Zoltan said, offering her a mug of cider. "What matters is to decide how we manage our lassie. Is she fine? Or still angry?"

"She's asleep," Geralt reminded.

"What I want to know is whether ye sorceresses can do without the elf's help," Zoltan said.

"I'll be fine," Yennefer assured.

It wasn't that she couldn't knock Ciri out herself if she needed to. Yennefer hoped it wouldn't come down to that as she didn't want to hurt her. The idea sickened her. "How'd she fair through the night?"

The Witcher sighed and drank his fill of cider. "She slept till dawn, then woke up and we had a dispute. She demanded I gave her back the Aen Elle trinket."

"The what?" Zoltan asked.

Geralt produced the cameo from his pouch. "We assume the Hunt uses these to make it easier for their mages to navigate them to our world."

Zoltan cursed.

"There might be more of those," Kain added. "We'll have to locate them if we can."

"Ye better!" Zoltan agreed, and glanced over them. "Maybe then they stop comin here like it's their backyard."

"That's the hope," Geralt said.

"Then we should use the Lodge to do it," Yennefer suggested. "They're sitting on their hands. I'm sure they'll appreciate feeling useful, it's what they're here for."

"I don't think it's going to help us to let them in on this," Geralt said. "We don't know if and how they can turn that against us. We merely know they can."

"Clear as a sunny day," Zoltan agreed. "Can't expect any free aid from mages. They only serve their own greed."

Yennefer nodded. "There is a genuine concern for their betrayal. Always. Nevertheless, I can't see how at this point it would serve them. The Wild Hunt is everyone's adversary, one wrong move and the very people that Philippa wants to rule over would be lost."

"It's useless for me to try and foresee their ambition, for it tends to surprise me every time I face it," Geralt said. "I want to play it safer because Ciri's concerned."

"I agree," Kain said. "The Lodge shall help us with the battle as promised if they don't change their minds. But this particular matter we can resolve on our own."

"Does that mean there is one of those things in Novigrad? And Oxenfurt?" Dandelion gestured to the Aen Elle trinket.

"We're going to Oxenfurt to find out," said the Witcher. "You're welcome to come with us, Dandelion, for we need your help to gain access to the Academy territory and their basements and dungeons."

"Oh, well," Dandelion puffed out his chest with importance. "If it will help save the world."

The witchers smiled a little at the poet's sacrifice; Geralt put the cameo away.

"Thank you, my friend," he said.

Yennefer was a bit disappointed that Geralt had stolen Dandelion away for another task in Oxenfurt after they'd discussed what she'd needed the troubadour for today. Of course, given his fears aired the day before, it made sense that Dandelion would conveniently forget.

"Our cabaret should open tonight," Zoltan said. "I don't think I can cancel it and shut our doors." He turned to Yennefer, "Ye think it's safe with lassie here?"

"There is no way to know. It could go either way. I think all you can do it go with your instinct, Zoltan. Feel her out today – decide for yourself."

Dandelion looked between them all, his eyes wide. "Feel her out? As in... she may or may not murder?"

"Stop it," Geralt reprimanded, flashing a look the poet's way. "She's not insane enough to murder her friends."

Kain shot an uncertain glance Yennefer's way, wondering whether she also was inclined to cushion it a little for her own mind like Geralt still attempted.

"And those who aren't her friends?" Dandelion lowered the damp rag from the side of his head. "I'm sorry, Geralt, but after everything you and Kain told us last night, how Ciri is not even truly aware of what she is doing, you can't blame me for not wanting to put my audience in danger."

"Does Ciri know of your plans for a performance this evening?" Yennefer asked with a look at Zoltan.

"How would she know?" the dwarf said. "We haven't spoken in a while. She's been off and I was busy."

"Then cancel it. Save yourself the concern and worry. There's still time enough."

"It's unbelievably bad for business to cancel good things the elite of the city is looking forward to as their evening entertainment," Dandelion put in.

Zoltan made a 'what he said' gesture and drank. "It's also suspicious," he added.

Yennefer scoffed. "Suspicious to who? Djikstra?"

"Everything gets back to that bastard and yer old friend Eilhart," Zoltan snorted. "I would bet my life they keep a close eye on us one way or another. There must be lots of those sodding ways, too."

Yennefer wrinkled her nose hearing the names. "Think he'll attend tonight?"

"He doesn't bring his arse around here," Zoltan chortled. "Not even yer Eilhart, now that they're not fugitives anymore, I would guess."

"Then perhaps some spies. Although, given what Geralt found out to be true about the bank, I don't see what other reason they would have to waste such resources."

Unless they knew about Ciri? She said something similar about the interrogator that had questioned her, and that none of it had to do with the bank. Was it that he was still hunting her? Yennefer dreaded the thought. She didn't want anyone coming in to tempt an already unstable fate.

Maybe it was best if she took Ciri out looking for those portal ties to the Wild Hunt.

She scrubbed a hand against her forehead gently to quell an incoming headache.

"Don't suppose breakfast has been arranged?"

After a rather quick breakfast, it was decided that Dandelion was barely in shape for traveling, and he was of more use at his cabaret while the young medic Shani was the one to assist with the Academy passes back at Oxenfurt.

With that, Yennefer stepped out to see the witchers off, and at the hitching post next to their ready horses Geralt told her and Kain about his rough morning.

"She called it her heirloom," he patted his belt where the cameo was hidden. "The only thing she has of her blood. As if that elvish part of her was more real than her ties to this world."

"While she senses our alarm around her, she struggles to belong," Kain said, stroking his horse's neck. "And she clings to anything that could provide that feeling. The face on that cameo - save the ears - is hers. It's rather obvious."

Geralt shook his head slowly, his fingers combing absentmindedly through Roach's mane. "I was telling her I loved her and she screamed and thrashed and almost split my skull open for it. As if my saying it hurt her."

Yennefer absorbed all Geralt had told them. She was concerned before, but now she was absolutely terrified. If she said the wrong thing Ciri'd flee. What could they possibly do to change her thinking if Ciri was fighting against the simplicity of 'I love you'?

"I'm at a loss of what to say, Geralt. I—I hardly know how to handle my own emotions, I'm not so sure I'm prepared for hers or know how to start her healing. How long will you two be away? Is it a day excursion? Can I assume you'll be back this evening?"

"We'll be back as soon as we can," Geralt assured. "It takes us an hour to ride there, then back, we'll do out best to hurry with our search there."

"Then we'll have to go away at night," Kain reminded.

"I know," Yennefer said unnecessarily.

She nodded and then took a step back, gesturing for them to get on with it. The sooner they left, the sooner they'd be back. There wasn't a lot in her life that scared her, but she was innately fearful of doing irrevocable damage to her daughter – more than she already had.

Geralt stepped into her, claiming her mouth in a long, tender kiss.

"Be careful, Yen," he said when he pulled back. "I'll be here as soon as I can. Don't hesitate to engage Avallac'h if you need to."

"I won't," she assured, refraining from touching a hand to her thoroughly kissed lips. Geralt was being contradictory. One minute she had a fair idea of what he wanted, and the next he was making her insides turn to jelly.

She waited until the two were out of sight, and then made her way into the inn and for the bedroom upstairs to see if Ciri had woken.

* * *

Ciri had slowly come to and was watching Triss on the other side of the room with a confused scowl.

"Geralt said he was guarding my dreams. What are you guarding me from?"

Triss lifted her head, her lips softly pouting in surprise at Ciri haven woken. "Not guarding, Ciri. Simply making certain you are all right," she said, lifting to her feet and slowly approaching the bed. "How do you feel?"

Ciri was annoyed. Annoyed and confused and reluctant to take her companions' words as truth anymore. She sat up and placed her feet on the floor. "Fine."

"Are you hungry? Would you like me to fetch some breakfast?" Triss offered.

Ciri shook her head. "No. Thank you."

"You're up!" Yennefer greeted as enthusiastically as she could muster as she entered the bedroom. She didn't have to wonder for how long Ciri had been awake since Triss hadn't moved much. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd get up at all. Did you sleep well?"

"Like the dead," Ciri said, unable to conjure up the same enthusiasm Yennefer had hit her with.

"Where's Geralt?"

"He and Kain are on their way to Oxenfurt. They want to acquire a map of the area to help with the search for those portal devices you found."

_Geralt and Kain. Always together. Just the two of them._

It was as Ciri expected – they'd always choose each other over her, given the opportunity.

"And what are we to do today?" she asked as casually as she could. "Twiddle our thumbs?"

Yennefer didn't miss the note of annoyance in Ciri's tone.

"What is it you'd like to do?"

"Something useful." Cir got up and tousled her hair. "I want to search for those devices."

"That's the idea. That's what the maps are for. In the meantime, why don't you have a bath, relax a little – it's been a stressful few days."

Triss hemmed her agreement. "It'll do your muscles good," she added.

Yennefer knew she meant mind.

Ciri stared at the two sorceresses, her gaze shrewd. Calculating.

"Fine," she conceded eventually, moving to brush past Yennefer in the doorway. "I'll go arrange it."

Yennefer reached for Ciri's arm immediately as she made to brush past her, halting her process with a firm but gentle grip, her thumb stroking slightly to appease any tension that may have cropped up at being stopped.

"Triss can do that," Yennefer stated. The redhead frowned, her features briefly taking on a look of annoyance before settling on realization.

"I'll grab you a little fruit as well," she added helpfully, spearing Yennefer with a look as she got up and started for the door.

Ciri pulled free of Yennefer's grasp. "I take it Geralt has confined me to my room?"

"I wasn't aware he had such power," Yennefer countered. Triss hesitated at the door, but one look from Yennefer told her to go. "A lot happened yesterday, and you and I haven't caught up. I thought that we could do so in private."

Ciri frowned, moving over to the window to take a look outside. "What happened yesterday?"

"You don't remember?" Yennefer asked tentatively. If Ciri didn't know what she was doing, then she was most certainly possessed, and Kain was wrong. "What do you remember of yesterday? Why did you come back to the inn without the Witchers?"

"I didn't." Ciri turned her head to look at Yennefer over her shoulder. "Kain and I came here together. Who told you I came alone?"

"Zoltan. He said you had an altercation with Avallac'h. That they had to subdue you. The Witchers arrived much later. You don't remember that?"

"It's not the version of events I remember."

The witchers arrived much later? Last Ciri had seen, Kain was in the stable across the street. Where had he gone after?

"No one had to subdue me. Avallac'h chose to do so because he is a coward."

"How's he a coward? For what reason?" Yennefer asked. Avallac'h had already explained, but considering how the mention of Kain had gone at the hot springs, she wasn't all that enthusiastic about revisiting something that Ciri didn't want to share.

"He can't handle confrontation. Would rather knock someone unconscious than have them argue with him."

"Zoltan said it was more than just words. That fists were thrown. What was the argument about?"

"Zoltan's short. Things look more frightening from his point of view," Ciri commented blandly. "It doesn't matter. Avallac'h can go to hell."

Yennefer might have laughed if what they were discussing wasn't dire. "Hopefully soon, if you choose, he'll no longer have to be a part of your life." That was the end goal for all of them. To be free of those murderous elves. "What about this morning? Don't suppose you remember your conversation with Geralt?"

"Why wouldn't I remember it? I'm not the one with amnesia." Ciri sighed, already weary of this conversation. "What of it?"

"You hurt him," Yennefer pointed out. Ciri's voice had already issued that she'd hit a point of done with the conversation, but it would seem weird if Yennefer ignored what had happened between the two. "Physically. That's— it's not something heard of between the two of you unless you're practicing. You don't want to talk about that?"

"He started it," Ciri said, turning back to the window again. "I warned him. He didn't listen. It was his own fault. He was being completely unreasonable."

"Unreasonable how? Was he hurting you?" Yennefer fished. "Did he say something?"

"He was keeping me from what belongs to me. He wouldn't give me the anchor." Ciri said, solemn. "I've kept it safe since we found it, and suddenly I am not trustworthy anymore."

"The anchor? What anchor? The stone?" Yennefer asked.

"Yes! The anchor! The very thing that allows The Hunt to find their way to specific locations in our world."

Ciri ran her hand through her hair. "It has my face on it."

"Why would it have your face on it?" Yennefer smiled serenely. "Is it of sentimental value?"

"It's my grandmother. Lara." Ciri folded her arms across her chest, staring wistfully out the window. "I am her only living relative. The only one of importance. It belongs to me."

"It does. I don't know the reason he took it from you, but do you think Geralt intends to sell it? Pawn it off to the next available hand?"

Ciri's eyes flashed with indignation. "What!?"

The look on Ciri's face was enough to make Yennefer cringe internally. She walked over to Ciri at the window.

"Geralt won't do that to you, you know that. You can trust him. You do trust him, don't you?"

"He withholds the anchor knowing it hurts me. It's an assertion of power. It's cruel."

And Ciri didn't know what she had done to deserve it. When had she lost his trust?

"Kain found it and gave it to me. I kept it safe."

"I don't believe Geralt is intentionally trying to be cruel. Not to you. He never would, you know that. Is the problem that you believe he can't keep it safe?"

"No!" Ciri exploded. "The problem is that it is mine and he is keeping it from me! How hard is that to understand?"

"You said you found it, that Kain gave it to you to keep safe. Now it's yours? Why do you need it?"

"Because I have nothing!" Ciri screamed. "I have no reminders of my family. They all got destroyed when Calanthe died. I have no physical proof of where I belong! That anchor... It's something. It's proof that at some point in time there was a woman who looked like me. A woman who was powerful and beloved. And I am her heir. I am not some imposter who stole her blood. It was _mine_ all along."

* * *

The witchers rode onto a narrow road amidst the fields and slowed down to a trot to give the horses a bit of rest.

"What is that _Three_ the Pellar mentioned?" Geralt mused. "He said the dark in Ciri gives birth to Three."

"There were three Crones," Kain said. "If we forget about their trapped mother."

"They were all ugly as sin and posed as beautiful young maidens on their tapestry. People were drawn by it even though they had nothing to do with the concepts of the Goddess."

"No, they made their own. But now that there is a void..." Kain looked at Geralt pensively. "Maybe there is a new Three in the making?"

Geralt scowled, "You think they will revive themselves no matter what we do?"

"I didn't mean the same Three. What if it's a new Three? That crone Thecla wasn't alone. She had that younger woman with her. She was serving the old one and hardly she has changed her mind since. She seemed devoted."

"Not to mention resembling the hag," Geralt added. "She must be her daughter."

"An old crone and a woman," Kain said. "They're missing a maiden to fully represent three faces of Goddess Mother."

"Ciri is a young maiden," Geralt stated grimly. "I mean, would have been if..."

"What?"

The Witcher swallowed, uncomfortable to be even contemplating the matter of Ciri's private life. "If she were a virgin."

Kain clucked his tongue, "She is. Must be."

Geralt was surprised. He stared mutely, expecting him to elaborate.

"She told me back at Kaer Morhen that she's never been with a man before in the traditional sense, ehm... if you don't count groping-"

"Yes, I got it," Geralt stopped him, wincing. It began to dawn on him rather brightly. He saw Kain was thinking the same. "She must be the third. The maiden. That's what it means. Unless..." he narrowed his eyes at Kain with a silent doubt.

"We haven't," Kain hurried to confirm. "We never have."

"Then it's that Three."

"But she's not with them. Means we might have a chance to prevent it somehow."

"If only I knew how," Geralt sighed deeply. "They say love lifts any curse. But Ciri goes mad at my reminding that I love her. Maybe it's your love that's needed. Because she loves you."

"Geralt," Kain heaved a sigh. "If there is anything I can do, I will do it, though it doesn't seem like she would listen to either of us. That dark poison in her works against us, damaging our connection to her. She thinks we're her enemies or well on our way to that category."

"We have to try harder."

"I know. But we also need to decide what we do if we fail."

Geralt smirked bitterly, "Won't we be dead then?"

"Perhaps not both of us. Or perhaps neither - if we pay that price."

Geralt's face went dark, his heart was breaking at the thought. "I would rather die by her hand. And maybe I will. But I'm a witcher. I shall do what's right. Even if it kills me. If it goes there, if she goes to the darkest place... I'll have to do what is right."


End file.
